It’s hard to remember where I left off last time, but Friday night/Saturday morning I woke up at 5:30 with this ominous feeling that I hadn’t done something. I got on my laptop and realized that instead of leaving for Paris on Sunday like I had planned I was supposed to leave in eight hours. I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t gotten out of bed that fast in years. I packed my things and explained the situation to Anne-Marie who made sure that the train left at the same time, which it did.
We still had time to visit the market in Blois so we off we went with our plastic bags. You can always find your way to the local market on Saturday mornings by following the little old ladies pulling carts behind them. Another way is to follow the lovely odors of food. The smell of fish and cheese is so strong that the taste buds and nose are full of the essence of it. We happened to come across the friend of Elise and his father who were selling various fruits and wine. Seeing that I was a newbie in the market scene, the father took a cherry tomato out of one of the containers and held it out for me to try. I wasn’t hungry so I shook my head, but he said testily that his tomatoes were the best in France and how could I possibly not want to try one! I gave in and agreed with him it was the best tomato in France.
I wanted to buy some wine as presents for my host families in Paris and in Grenoble so I asked him what kind he suggested. He asked me where they lived and how many kids they had and then said that I should get the white. I’m not sure how that information would say white, but so far so good; the first family loved it. And the best part…they were just 3.50 Euros each (less than 5 bucks a pop) . Then I saw them. The escargot were there and Anne-Marie insisted that we buy some escargot for lunch. Not bad, not bad at all. If I hadn’t known before I ate them that they were snails, I would never have blinked an eye.
After that adventure in eating, I hurried off to the train station. When it came time to change trains, I did not make that one despite my best efforts. The people who were waiting for me were not happy when I showed up 20 minutes late, but c‘est la vie. I could tell right away who the other girls were who were accompanying me to Grenoble by the size of their suitcases. One in particular had two bags, each of which could easily fit a family of four. Packing is the one aspect of this trip in which I was very organized. I have my backpacking backpack (thanks Kirsten!) one very small rolling bag and a purse. The other girls were amazed that I fit a year worth of things in that amount of space.
The family that I am staying with for the week is very nice and they are the smallest family I have ever seen. I honestly think a strong gust of wind would blow them away. The kids are 12 and 9, but when they asked me how old I thought they were I said 9 and 6. Does you boy remind you of someone? If they ever come out with a Harry Potter prequel they should call him first.
Check out their oldschool toilet.
The next day I visited the town of Versailles and the surrounding area. It really is beautiful, and our “tour guide” was an utterly adorable eighty-year-old Belgian. He explained to the two other Albion students that are here and me that when you’re eighty you just want to enjoy the good things in life like drinking good beer, eating good food, and looking at all the girls. I’ll keep that advice in mind when I get to that age.
Tuesday we went to Paris to sightsee with the Musee d’Orsay first on the list. It was OK, but nothing special. I know I’m in the definite minority, but I don’t care for Impressionist paintings.
It started pouring at the exact moment that we left the museum and I failed to bring an umbrella with me. I was absolutely soaked before I found someplace that sold them, and then paid an exorbitantly high price for one that better last a very long time.
We still had time to visit the market in Blois so we off we went with our plastic bags. You can always find your way to the local market on Saturday mornings by following the little old ladies pulling carts behind them. Another way is to follow the lovely odors of food. The smell of fish and cheese is so strong that the taste buds and nose are full of the essence of it. We happened to come across the friend of Elise and his father who were selling various fruits and wine. Seeing that I was a newbie in the market scene, the father took a cherry tomato out of one of the containers and held it out for me to try. I wasn’t hungry so I shook my head, but he said testily that his tomatoes were the best in France and how could I possibly not want to try one! I gave in and agreed with him it was the best tomato in France.
I wanted to buy some wine as presents for my host families in Paris and in Grenoble so I asked him what kind he suggested. He asked me where they lived and how many kids they had and then said that I should get the white. I’m not sure how that information would say white, but so far so good; the first family loved it. And the best part…they were just 3.50 Euros each (less than 5 bucks a pop) . Then I saw them. The escargot were there and Anne-Marie insisted that we buy some escargot for lunch. Not bad, not bad at all. If I hadn’t known before I ate them that they were snails, I would never have blinked an eye.
After that adventure in eating, I hurried off to the train station. When it came time to change trains, I did not make that one despite my best efforts. The people who were waiting for me were not happy when I showed up 20 minutes late, but c‘est la vie. I could tell right away who the other girls were who were accompanying me to Grenoble by the size of their suitcases. One in particular had two bags, each of which could easily fit a family of four. Packing is the one aspect of this trip in which I was very organized. I have my backpacking backpack (thanks Kirsten!) one very small rolling bag and a purse. The other girls were amazed that I fit a year worth of things in that amount of space.The family that I am staying with for the week is very nice and they are the smallest family I have ever seen. I honestly think a strong gust of wind would blow them away. The kids are 12 and 9, but when they asked me how old I thought they were I said 9 and 6. Does you boy remind you of someone? If they ever come out with a Harry Potter prequel they should call him first.
Check out their oldschool toilet.The next day I visited the town of Versailles and the surrounding area. It really is beautiful, and our “tour guide” was an utterly adorable eighty-year-old Belgian. He explained to the two other Albion students that are here and me that when you’re eighty you just want to enjoy the good things in life like drinking good beer, eating good food, and looking at all the girls. I’ll keep that advice in mind when I get to that age.Tuesday we went to Paris to sightsee with the Musee d’Orsay first on the list. It was OK, but nothing special. I know I’m in the definite minority, but I don’t care for Impressionist paintings.
It started pouring at the exact moment that we left the museum and I failed to bring an umbrella with me. I was absolutely soaked before I found someplace that sold them, and then paid an exorbitantly high price for one that better last a very long time. 
Hahaha that was my first thought about the Schwindlings too! I was honestly afraid of knocking Laurence over when I gave her a kiss. Did they give you slippers to wear like they do around the house? I had to borrow the grandpa's slippers because my feet were too big for the grandma's or the extra pairs that Laurence had. Guess everything really is bigger in America...
ReplyDeleteDid Marie make you play cache-cache (hide and seek)? That was just about her favorite thing to do when I was there. And team up with me against Nicolas, who squealed when we tickled him. I feel like my sister would be mad if I did that to her... maybe French kids act younger than Americans do too? Or Nicolas and Marie are anomalies? I don't know quite what to make of it. The family is so sweet though aren't they?