So, there’s probably less to say about France, just because the majority of the trip was spent speaking french with other 18-25 year olds, so naturally much of the time was spent philosophizing and drinking European beer (sooo much better than in the US, but still kind of icky).
But, let’s see. Mom and I went to the Lovre:
And then I was sent off on my own on a great adventure to Avignon! Where there is a Palais du Pape, and my sock yarn was used to put cornrows in the hair of an awesome Romanian guy.
I also learned that I can rhapsodize in French about an atrocious version of King Lear to which I paid about thirty minutes of full attention. Yay, theatre skills.
And, memorably for me, during an excursion to the Photo Exhibition in Arles I actually agreed to use a wheelchair, and didn’t end up staying with the adults the whole time. As in, my friends didn’t care, just as my mother had said for years.
I was sad to leave, even though our living conditions were less than ideal. We lived in an elementary school, which equals outdoor portable showers, and toilets which are also outdoors, though not portapotties thank God.
And then, back to Paris with Mom, a glass of champagne in celebration at the Hilton (she’s getting better about the alcohol thing, and of course it was legal there) and back to the states.
I loved Europe, particularly London and Avignon. Paris wasn’t for me. It made me sad to see the beautiful old buildings with flashy modern shops below, and the people reminded me of NYC. Not rude, just too busy to be bothered.
Tomorrow back to your regularly scheduled knitting blog, and I do have some things to share :D