"There goes the baker with his tray like always, the same old bread and rolls to sell."

So while using this photo as a potential prompt and cure for my recent writer's block, I begin to realize the gravety and the intensity of it's image.  Yes, everyone, I confirm that these are same-day slaughtered chickens neatly displayed at a French market (on a random weekday, for that matter) as if they were not dead, but merely sleeping and had forgotton their "winter coats."  If you look closely, or dare to in any case, you can see that their heads, beaks, and feet are still intact as they patiently wait to be sold to old, grumpy, French elders who continue to complain about the inconvenient currency change from the French Franc to the Euro--mind you that this change had taken place over 12 years ago. 

Below, I have posted the several pictures I took "at market" that day in order for you to get a feeling this "this provincial life" does indeed still exist:

Nope, this classy woman taken in the picture is not going to mass or out to dinner.  She is simply going to market!

Sorry Giant Eagle, your cheese selection is pretty good, but I don't know if it can stand up to a variety of 102.

Bonjour Mr. French Fisherman! Sorry to disturb your sales with my abnoxious tourist behavoir and taking pictures of you while you are trying to sell the fish you caught that morning.

Strawberries anyone?

So needless to say, while Benoît Jego (the "other Benoît) was off making cookie sales, I had a wonderful morning walking around the weekday market in a port town called La Rochelle.

--Although I must say that as delightful and endearing as I find most French people, "creepers and weirdos" do exist here, as they are present in almost every country I presume.  For example, while walking through the market, the sausage man whistled to me and offered me a taste of his sausage.  Okay, okay, I know that previous sentence and what I am about to tell you present obvious sexual inuendos, but I find no other way to describe this particular situation lol.  "Venez goûtez mes saucissons, Madameoiselle.  J'ai plusieurs parfum ici car je suis bien le roi des saucissons." (Literal translation: Come and taste my sausages, young girl.  I have many flavors here because I am very well the King of the Sausages.)  Now, as I did indeed sample the small piece of sausage he offered me because the saucisson in France really is rather good, I was happily saved from the Sausage King by Benoît's perfectly timed phone call telling me that he had made his necessary cookie sales and was ready to go.

I am so thankful for my friends in France.  The story of my poor camera bouncing off the stone pavement in front of the church made everyone cringe to the point where Benoît Jego actually gave me his old digital camera that he does not use anymore.  I have to say, I love the French and 2005 Sony Cybershot cameras!  So thanks to Benoît Jego, I was able to capture these beautiful images below of the breathtaking port town of La Rochelle:

Well, today is the day that Benoît gets to pick up his brand new car! I promised him that I would make a few photocopies of the necessary document he needs to present at the dealership, so I will have to explain the rest of my Wednesday outing at the beach in my next blog, which is soon to come!  

Bonne journée ! (Have a good day!)

Love, Laura

So I find that my ability to say "yes" to spontaneity has much improved since my arrival in France.  There is no longer a hesitation in my response nor further reflection about how much this particular outing is going to cost me.  I simply say "yes, why not?" knowing that whatever proposed adventure I just stumbled upon would be exactly what I needed and turn out to be one of the best days of life.

As I had mentioned in my last blogpost, my friend Benoît offered to take me along for the day and accompany him while he made his required sales for his cookie company.  Knowing that any opportunity to get out of the house, speak French, and explore other towns in France would be much better than staying in rainy Nantes by myself waiting for Benoît and the rest of my friends to finish their work day, I immediately agreed to tag along.  On Tuesday morning, we drove through Rennes,

and while Benoît went off to do some sales, I did some shopping and ended up with a new pair of earrings :)  After business was finished in Rennes, we drove another hour to our final destination, Le Mont Saint Michel.  Benoît was nice enought to let me use his Blackberry phone to take some pictures since my broken camera is currently making the long voyage to the United States to be repared.  

Above is a picture taken from the prison itself--not bad of a view for dangerous criminal.

Here, is a picture of one of the prison walls surrounded by the infamous quicksand.  The sea arrived at high-tied around 3:30pm that day, but varies according to the season.  So for all of the tourists (and there were thousands that day) who had wanted to take a walk along the sand, but arrived during high-tied were extremely disappointed.

Mount Saint Michel off in the distance.

After such a wonderful and enriching visit (and it really was, I am not trying to be corny or anything lol), my host sister, Louise-Marie, invited me over for dinner that evening.  Since her parents left for their vacation house right after the wedding festivities on Sunday afternoon and plan to stay there until the end of August (must be nice to be granted 5 weeks of manditory vacation), she was more than willing to invite me and a few of her friends, whom I had already met, to dinner.  It was so nice to see and talk with her again!

--Side note:  I apologized to Benoit for leaving him alone that evening, but he didn't seem to mind and said that he was looking forward to drink a beer or two in the tub and reading, lol.

Wedding continued...

Ok, so where did I leave off?  Oh, yes.  The dessert.  So after the dessert, all of the invitées moved into the dance room in order to watch the couple partake in their first Waltz as a married couple.  After a few moments, other couples started to join in and Benoit and I were encourage to enter the dance floor.  The only problem was that neither of us are even close to being "Waltz dancing masters," so we felt slightly out of place.  After the waltz, the third and final part of the wedding known as the "soirée," or loosly being translated as the "after party."  The champagne was still heavily flowing and we all had a wonderful time dancing what is known as "le rock," a common dance shared by both young and old in France that resembles the movement of swing dancing, only it is done to techno music.  

So here is a VERY ADVANCED example of what the dance looks like, to the time of a very popular French song:

So Benoit and I left the party around 3am and many people, including the bride and groom, where still up and dancing.  Here is a picture of what the property looked like at night:

 Gorgeous, right?  So, I had to cancel my "Skype date" with my parents the next day because I decided to go to bed a bit early that night lol.  Everyone who was seated at the bridal table, along with all the members of the family, were invited to brunch the next day at the church.  What I didn't know and certainly not accustomed to is that this brunch is held with the goal of finishing all of the left over food and drink from the wedding the night before.  Let's just say, I've had my fair share of French champagne for at least...a week lol.

Today, my friend Benoit (we have another friend also named Benoit, which occasionally brings much confusion) sells cookies for a living and has invited me to pick me up and spend the day with him at Mount Saint Michel, a former prison in the north of France where convicts were sent for life sentences.   It was, and still is, entirely surrounded by water and when the tide goes out, the shoreline becomes a dangerous trap of quicksand.  Obviously, they have now opened the prison to tourists and have built a road sturdy enough to hold massive amounts of cars and buses.

Here is a picture of the prison and where is it located on the map of France:

Well, that's all for now!  Love you! 

Stone pavement and digital cameras don't mix, but "Vivez les mariés!" (Long live the bride and groom!)

So if I would describe the wedding on Saturday as absolutely and positively fabulous, in my opinion, it would be somewhat of an understatement.  My only regret is that while exiting the church after the mass, I dropped my beauitful, PowerShot 12.1 megapixel camera on the most unforgiving ground of 400 year old stone pavement.  Luckily, my friend Pauline took a picture of Benoit and I during the cocktail (the one you see above); however, this will be the only picture I will be able to show you of the wedding (sniff sniff).  All I can say is, THANK YOU DAD for buying the expensive 2-year warranty!!!

Anyway, I will try to describe in as much detail as I can to try and recapture the wedding day as best I can.  The mass was held at Saint Donatien Church, a bascillica within walking distance of Benoit's apartment, at 4 o'clock on Saturday, July 23, 2011.  

French Fact #1:  The French never arrive on time for anything, even to something as important as a wedding.  For example, Benoit was what would be considered "one of the best men", better known as a "temoin" or "witness" in the French language; and arrived approximately 10 minutes before 4 o'clock.  However, at the time we arrived, we appeared to be the first of the "invités" at the church.  During the next ten minutes,  Saint Donatien was swarmed with colorful hats, beautiful frenchmen in suits, and the best dressed babies I have ever seen.

Here is a picture of the church:

French Fact #2: You must cover up in church.  In most european cities, it is proper and at times required to cover your shoulders and knees (pretty much any body part that is knobby) upon entering a Catholic Church.  Therefore, it is common in France to wear and carry a shawl, which tends to be the same color of your hat and your shoes.  

After mass and D-day of my "appareil photo" (camera), we all drove the half an hour to the property on which the cocktail, dinner, and after party were held.  La Seigneurie du Bois-Benoist was the name of the castle/courtyard/hall (which ever you feel more comfortable calling it) and I was completely starstruck as soon as I had a chance to glance at the elegant white tables upon which hundreds of colorful, small hors d'oeuvres were found next to the glass flutes of real French champagne.  The cocktail took place outside in the castle's courtyard.  Luckily for all of us, especially for the bride and groom, it did not rain and cool breeze made it delightful weather for the men in tuxes and us women in hats.  The smell of flowers, champagne, foie gras, fresh salmon, and joy filled the air as we spent about 2 hours sipping bubbles, savoring delicacies, and of course speaking French!  Since the bride is the niece of my host mother, Madame Gaumain, I had the occasion of rejoining and conversing with all of the members of my "second family" in France.  

Here is a picture of the courtyard that I found online:

The list of tables and where all of the dinner guest where seated was posted in the "lobby" of the castle and I was asbolutely delighted to find myself seated at the bridal table.  Now there are two other interesting things concerning French weddings:  1) There are three distinct parts to which you may or may not be invited.  Normally, if you are a family member or very close friend to the bride and groom, you would be invited to all three parts, being the cocktail, dinner, and after party.  If you are simply a friend or close aquaintence, you would be invited to just the cocktail and the afterparty.  And what would be our "plus one" in America, they would be invited to join in on the afterparty, starting around 11pm.  2) When invited to a wedding in France, do not expect to sit by your significant other--to the French, that would isolate the couple and make for boring conversation.  I find that it is all about integration and placing yourself "outside the box" as the goal of a French social event.

Here is was the dining room where we had dinner (picture also found online):

Starting with the main dish and being "sans entrée" seemed rather odd to most of the invited guests; however, it was no surprise to me, for it is what I am used to seeing at most American weddings.  We were served "lotte", which is some sort of white, rather meaty fish and as I am unsure of the translation/US equivalent, my oh my was it yummy!  It was served in a light tomato sauce with small servings of sautéed mushrooms, a carrot purée, and parsley and garlic mashed potatoes as accompagnements.  Next, we were served salad and three different types of cheeses: a lightly seasoned goat cheese, a brie, and a camenbert, alongside of course unlimited French bread.  It is customary in France to have a cigarette break in between the cheese and dessert courses and while this may be a odd and somewhat "dirty" concept in America, 3/4 of the dining room left to "fumer une clope entretemps" (smoke a cigarette in the meantime).  I forgot to mention that during these two courses, the wine was flowing.  A dry white wine was served with the fish and then a bold red was served with the cheese (Mom, I'm not sure if you would have liked either lol).  Once everyone had reentered from having a cigarette (or a cigar for that matter) the dessert of 2 mararoons, a small piece of almond-chocolate cake, and a raspberry tart was served alongside a glass of champagne.  

--Side note:  I started this particular blog this morning and continue to finish it during the afternoon.  In the meantime, I met Benoit again at noon for lunch.  His mom had given us a few leftovers because they were leaving to spend a few days at the beach, but as it was raining (yet again) in Nantes, Benoit and I decided to eat a small brasserie/cafe next to his current worksite.  I think I say this everytime I have a meal in France and I will say it again, "It was the best meal I've ever eaten in life."  Benoit and I eat chose to have the "formule: plat+dessert" (menu: main dish+dessert) with an expensive but totally worth it glass of red Chilean wine.  The menu of the day was a piece of rotisserie chicken in a buttery peanut sauce (and no I do not mean it was drenched in a creamy peanut butter sauce lol) with rice, some kind of round grain, and garished with fresh parsley and aneth.  We had a friend who was our server and who warmly offered us two glasses of champagne with our dessert in order to thank us for stopping buy.  "Avec plaisir!" (With pleasure!).  Now, this dessert was something that my mouth and taste buds had never dreamed of tasting.  It was a dessert of hard carmelized pieces of dark chocolate seated under and arrangement of fresh grapefruit and slices of orange which were strategically placed in a fluffy cloud of yes, homemade vanilla bean whipped cream.  And this my dear friends, was all covered in a mango- raspberry sauce. 

Ok, I am going to post what I have written thus far and continue to write more tonight.  I have to stop by the post office before it closes in order to send to my parents my sad and broken camera.  

Love you!

The upside of rain and rules of a French café

So here is where Benoît is currently working:

So I had prepared Benoît and I lunch at the house, but because it was raining there was nowhere dry to sit and French cafés under no circustances allow to bring your own food and eat it while you sit in THEIR café.  So Benoît had the brillant idea of eating a creperie and here is a typicall example of what we ate instead that afternoon:

Love you!

Never Too Old To Play Dress-up

I have recently discovered that even though I am not so much of a “home-body,” I am what someone would call a “family-body.”  I find that the presence of a loving family (even though it may not be my own) has such a comforting and almost addicting effect to which I am constantly attracted.  For example, usually I would be scared to death to go over to Benoit’s family’s house or even to spend the weekend at my host family’s beach house knowing that the whole entire family would be there.  But for some reason, I crave this unique and loving sense of closeness that seems not to be missing, but possibly temporary displaced in my life here in France.  With my own family being thousands of miles away across the ocean and me no longer being a part of a host family exchange program as I was two years ago, coming home to an empty house or finding my beloved Benoit sitting at our kitchen table eating the American junk food I had brought him is not something I would call disappointing in the least, but just different.   Therefore, at this moment in my life, I refuse to reject any convivial invitation (sorry if these are too big of words Aunt Karen lol).

Anyway, last night Benoit called his mother to see if we could pass by and possibly find a hat for me to wear to the wedding this weekend amongst her thousands that she herself no longer wears.  Now, thousands is a bit of an overstatement; however, I have never seen so many hatboxes nor a whole walk-in closet devoted to such beautiful treasures in my life.  She told me to bring along my dress and shoes with which we would coordinate the hat according to its size, style, and color.  Both of Benoit’s sisters, Marie-Alix and Nelowuen, had returned home from their Girl Scout camp and of course were particularly delighted to dress-up their brother’s American girlfriend in fabulous French dresses, hats, and jewelry.  I mean the works.  His mother even had me try on her dresses that she had worn at my age because, ironically, we were the same size.  By nine o’clock, Benoît and I were leaving with my full outfit for Saturday, including a hat, strings of pearls, earrings, a shawl, and a purse, in addition to a dress that I will wear to the wedding in September. 

Here it is, the infamous French wedding hat!

I’m becoming a real French person ☺ …kind of

“Un grand succès,” are the words that I would use to describe today’s adventures.  And many things learned about the French in general during the process.

I had a “rendez-vous” at the bank this afternoon.  I passed by HSBC, the bank with whom I have chosen to open an account in France, and asked what documents were necessary to open an account.  The secretary told me all I needed was some kind of identification, in this case my passport, and proof of residence in France (thank you Benoît).  Great! Easy as cake, right?  Wrong.  I returned later that day and told them that I had returned with all of the necessary documents to open in account.  What they failed to tell me the first time around was that I needed to schedule a certain “rendez-vous,” where I would discuss with someone what kind of account I was looking to open and where I would present all of my necessary documentation. 

So today was that day.  I scheduled a meeting at one o’clock so that I would have the morning to sleep in—I am still a little jetlagged along with the symptoms of PMS in full flight, HOORAY!—and physically and mentally prepare myself for such a meeting with the French bank.  I walked about a quarter of a mile to the nearest bus stop in the rain, not realizing until 10 minutes later that that particular station was currently not being used due to all of the road construction happening in Nantes this summer.  Already 10 minutes behind schedule.  Finally, I walk another quarter of a mile (still in the rain and still without an umbrella) to the next bus station, hop on the bus, and head towards town.  I arrive soaking wet to the bank and the secretary looks at me as if I was some crazy immigrant who would never fit in to the “their way of life” looking how I did, like a nervous, wet dog.  He told me to have a seat and Monsieur Jerôme Legrand would be with me in a moment.  Receiving the same reaction from M. Legrand as I did from the secretary, I was here about ready to pee my pants.  I step into his office, he closes the door behind me, and I try to “break the ice” by making a comment about the weather.  “Il fait très beau aujourd’hui, n’est pas?” (It’s very nice weather today, isn’t it?), I say politely with a smile.  “Non, il ne fait pas beau aujourd’hui” (No, actually it’s not very nice out today), Monsieur Legrand replies in a cold, professional tone.  “Well I am off to a great start,” I thought to myself.

After a full hour of signing and initialing papers and having official French bank terms being thrown at me, I am proud to say that I have an official personal French checking account.  I will receive what will serve as my ATM card along with my check book in the mail sometime next week; arriving still at Benoît’s parents house due to technically difficulties of the address of Benoît’s new apartment. 

French people 101: 

Lesson #1:  It is not polite to try and make a witty comment in a professional setting, especially if you have never met the person before.

Lesson #2:  The French LOVE paperwork.  Just as we as Americans love doing things online, the French love to have an official hard copy in their hands.  And to be honest, we all know I am not at all technologically savvy, so this fondness of written paperwork is FINE by me.

It was still raining by the time I left the bank so I took advantage of already being “out and about” and bought FIRST a sandwich from a local bakery (salmon with lots and lots of butter for today’s lunch) and then, an umbrella. 

Hats, Hikes, and Heaven on Earth

“Un grand échec” would be the French words I would used to describe my potential hat buying adventures yesterday.  My friend Anne-Laure, who is getting married this September, offered to take me to the hat shop where she recently found and bought her had for the wedding this weekend.  As we approached the bright green colored shop that neatly displayed hats of all colors and sizes in its two windows, I became overwhelmed by the beauty of these creations.  “One hat, two hat, red hat, blue hat,” calling to mind the silly poem in the Dr. Seuss book.  I forgot to bring both my shoes and my dress with me, so I had to try to describe in detail to the hat-lady and Anne-Laure the exact color of both.  We decided that my dress was “midnight blue” and my shoes were a darker shade of beige.  I quickly found a hat that I adored and the hat-lady offered to change the colors in order to match my dress for the currently model that I tried was black and turquoise.  At this point, Benoit was on his way to meet us at the shop and put in his two sense about the hat.  He quickly gave his approval and just as I was ready to say, “Je le prends,” “I will take it,” the hat-lady offered to give me the price.  Grand total: 91 euros.  Dollar equivalent: $132.  Oof!  That is more than double the cost of my dress.  I told the lady I would have to think about it… a lot.

We went to a few other shops that afternoon, however, that’s the problem whenever you a foreigner looking for a hat on a low-cost budget because the euros to dollar exchange rate is so high and it is the middle of wedding season.  “Il n’y a rien,” “There is nothing.”  I now currently have three options to solve my hat dilemma: 1) Suck it up, bite the bullet, and buy a hat that would cost me about 2 and half days working at the Madison Club, 2) Go to a fabric store and see if I can find what is necessary to try and make a “hat-like creation” myself, or 3) Go and visit Benoit’s mother and see if she has a hat that a) she no longer wears, b) would match the color of my shoes and dress, and c) would fit my head. 

Sometimes I feel like I left every comfort that I new in the United States for something completely unknown and different (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing).  For example, it has been cold and rainy since the day that I arrived in France and I am found without an umbrella and nearest store that sells umbrella is about a half of a mile walk…in the rain.  Also, Benoit and I currently have no television connection and as of two days ago, I entered the wrong Internet password (three times), so now there is no Internet access either.  Since most French businesses and enterprises do not open until 10am and close between 5pm and 7pm, Benoit has no time to call before or after work to fix it.  We also find ourselves without a car—Benoit’s car died completely a week before I arrived—and the garage from where he bought a new one called him yesterday and said that it wouldn’t be ready for another two weeks.  Benoit rides his bike to work everyday and since Nantes is currently doing construction on what seems like all of the roads in the center of down, the public transport runs less often.  Yesterday, after our “hat escapades,” Benoit and I road home tandem on his bike, which is normally only meant for one person.  I replaced the basket usually found behind the seat and Benoit did his best to pedal us both home safely.  

I think that some of the things that I had eaten that day, definitely made up for my small disappointment about my hat and the soreness of the my legs from having to keep them propped up and out of the way to prevent them from hitting into the pedals of the bike on the ride home.  Benoit and I had lunch together again that day and I surprised him by stopping by the pâtisserie and buying us a few macarrons for dessert.  I chose a chocolate for me, a caramel and sea salt butter macarron for him, and a peach and a raspberry-violet one for us to try together.  While shopping for a hat, we stopped by the bakery and I bought us each a “pain au chocolat” for a snack and for dinner that night, we had a tomato salad for an appetizers, veal cooked with onions and potatoes for the main dish, cheese, and a chocolate mousse for dessert.  This wonderful 2 and half hour dinner was accompanied by a bottle of 2008 Bordeaux that we had bought for 3 euros and a strong discussion about capitalism.  Trust me, it was more romantic than it sounds lol.

I love you and think of you often J

Wasted Wax, but Weekend of Wonders

So not long after I began to settle into my “temporary new home,” Benoit and I left to spend last weekend at the beach.  We both had been invited to Saint Cast le Guildo, which is located in the northern part of France, by a mutual friend, Eugénie.  When we arrived after spending two and half hours in a full car, we were warmly greeted by friends and many a “bisous” (the normal French greeting of kissing one another on each cheek).  I was absolutely delighted to see friends that I haven’t seen since Christmas, or since last summer for that matter, and we all celebrated my return by an aperitif, a complete sit-down dinner, and a venture to the local “dance club,” where we were the only two to show up all night.  We had the whole dance floor to ourselves, so needless to say, c’était génial! (it was AWESOME!)

Advice #1: When a friend tells you to bring warm clothes because it is going to be a bit chilly that weekend, she really means, bring a hat, gloves, boots, and a parka.  I had a bit of a geography lesson this weekend, realizing that Nantes shares the same latitude line with Seattle, Washington, signifying the fact that where we were that weekend is parallel to Canada.  In short, IT’S DOWNRIGHT FREEZING.  It rained almost the whole weekend, although there were small intermissions of sun, and we spent most of our time in jeans, sweatshirts, jackets, and scarves.  We were able to take a few walks along what is known to Americans as “boardwalks” and “fait quelques magasins” (do a little bit of shopping). 

If you may be wondering, things with Benoit are going great!  I must admit that it was/still is a bit strange to be spending so much time together after spending a whole year apart.  I, myself, find it hard to believe that I am finally in the situation I have dreamed of since I left France last August.  Last night Benoit and I stopped by his parents’ house to pay a visit to his mother who had been asking about me, although it was mostly because Benoit ran out of clean underwear and we do not yet have a washing machine.  Nevertheless, it was wonderful to see her.  She is a very classy, traditional, and what we would call “typical” French woman.  As always, she was dressed in high-heels and pearls.  Benoit’s father works in Paris during the weekend and only comes home on the weekends and while most of Benoit’s brothers and sisters are still living at the house, they were all at scout camp or traveling somewhere; so Mrs. Roblin seems to be happy to have the company.  When we arrived, she was already enjoying the aperitif!

I am going to look for my hat this afternoon for the wedding this weekend with a friend.  Can’t wait to tell you about it!

I love you and miss you, but having the time of my live J

God: The Ultimate Travel Partner

God has a funny way of revealing himself.  After waiting out the one hour delay for my flight to Paris, I was finally aboard and settled on the plane to my "final destination."  Fortunately, the sit directly beside me was left open and I was able to stretch out across two chairs the entire 6 hours and 43 minutes of the trip.  I read about a quarter of the novel I am currently reading, "Eat, Pray, Love" which so far I highly recommend,  watched "Chocolat," a film starring Johnny Depp that tells a story about a woman opening up a chocolate shop in a very close-minded village in France (typical, yes I know), and slept a total of 3 hours after my fabulous dinner of prepackaged chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  Luckily, I had previewed enough money to by a small bottle of red wine and that a somewhat edible brownie was served for dessert.

Arriving in Paris, it was a current 54°F (which according to Benoît is perfect t-shirt weather in France) and we had arrived an hour behind schedule.  I started to stress ever so slightly when I realized that I had exactly an hour and a half to get myself off the plane, pass through customs, find my other 80 lbs. of luggage, take the airport shuttle to the train station (with 100 lbs. of luggage), and find my platform.  I firmly believe God heard my plea for help with every Hail Mary I prayed silently that morning.  Here are the blessed events that followed:

1) Mexican man (sumbraro and all) helped me load and unload my heavy carry-on bag to and from the overhead compartment
2) With it still being close to 9 in the morning, passing through customs only took a total of 20 minutes (I find that the French are not very strict and do not really care what your reasons are for being there, as long as you are boosting their economy and abusing the benefits of their health and social security system)
3) Now this never happens.  First two bags to neatly fall on the luggage belt...were mine, fully zipped, upright and ready to go!
4) Time check: 10am.  28 minutes to grab the shuttle and arrive at the train station
5) I grab a luggage cart and sprint to the elevator... Hail Mary fully of grace...
6) While boarding the shuttle, a nice Arab couple saw me struggling and helped me to load my bags.
7) Things were going ever too smoothly when the electric shuttle broke down, two stops away from the station.  It is now 10:15 whenever the shuttle starts up and running again.
8)  Arrive at the train station.  I have 8 minutes to drag my tired self and luggage down two flights of escalators and onto the platform.
9) "Veillez-vous un coup de main?" Music to my ears.  A nice, older Frenchman asking if I need help!  They do exist!  They do exist!
10) I make it to my platform the same time the train does and successfully throw my luggage on board with the help of another nice Frenchman who strategically places it in the doorway and behind a chair because there is no place to be had for even another small purse.

The trains were packed and completely full that day due to "La fête de la Bastille" (Bastille Day).  If I would have missed my train.  I would have been stuck in Paris until the following day.  Phew.

The festivities going on for Bastille Day were not the only fireworks I saw that day :) Arriving in Nantes,  Benoit had met me on the platform, dressed in a white dress shirt and jeans with 3 red roses in hand.  "Il fallait que j'ai mise un an, mais enfin, je suis bien arrivée."  (It took me a year, but finally, I'm here).

Well I promised Benoit that I would meet him for lunch (One of the great things about the French lifestyle is that they get at least an hour and half for lunch during their work day).  I am going to stop by a boulangerie (bakery) and pick up some sandwiches.

I love you and much more to come!

One leg down, and still have all my body parts

I am unsure as of why, but it appears that I have terrible luck when it comes to traveling.  Whether it be blocked in the Paris airport for 3 days due to a snow storm in Philadelphia or delayed an hour or two because an "unidentified mysterious box" was found near the boarding gate, all of these infamous travel instances that people dread always seem to happen to me.  For the past few days, flights from Pittsburgh to Paris, with a connection in Philadelphia, has been arriving at least 15 minutes early (according to my caring and persistent mother--Hi Mom!!); however, for one strange reason or another, my flight today arrived 30 minutes late into Philadelphia.  "Luckily," as I was sprinting to gate A23 to my Paris-bound plane, that was supposed to start boarding five minutes ago, with 50 lbs. of luggage around my neck (no joke), the Departure Board caught my eye and I saw that my flight was delayed an hour and a half.  Needless to say, although delays are dreadful (especially whenever you have been waiting the past two years of your life for the return to your scheduled destination), I was thankful for this one.  And now I even have the chance to commence my first blog as an "aspiring, demi French woman!"

For all of you who are worrying as I travel--and I do not blame you in the least, for travel can and often is a stressful and scary experience alone--my flight to Paris is scheduled to leave at 7:45pm.  As I sit typing this blog, looking out the window at the arriving planes, and beginning to be frozen to death by the blasting air-conditioning breathing down my neck, I see my plane arriving!  It won't be long now.  I love you all and thank you so much for such wonderful influences in my my life and making it so utterly wonderful :) And a special thanks to you Mom and Dad for making all of this possible.  I love you.

T-13 hours until the "Royal Meeting" between Benoît and I!

Talk to you soon :)