Walking on Sunshine

This blog post was brought to you in part by: Marshall Aid - keeping France electrical since 1947 (which coincidentally is also the best year for wine)
 
Those of you who know me well know that one thing in this wide world that makes me completley at ease is watching an episode or two of Jim Henson's Fraggle Rock. I mean no copyright infringement by linking this video, I just think it's a shame that so many beautiful songs were lost with the recognition of the show in the early nineties. So, I give you the second full episode of the show here, on my blog. However, If you really don't feel like watching an entire episode of awesomeness, I completley understand. Some of you go to Davidson College and don't have time to enjoy the smaller things in life -- you've got your sights set too high-- I know your pain.  I do ask, though, that before you read the rest of this blog, you will jump to 3:45 of the video below and listen to the beautiful song that Wembley Fraggle has to share with the world.

 

If you listened, this is what everyday in Tours feels like for me. I walk down the street and this song is stuck in my head...usually. Other times, people like Jane Morrison would get less jolly song wedged in between my lobes, like Adele's Someone Like You.

Wembley's Here to There was not stuck in my head last friday afternoon as Keith, Paisley, and I attempted to find the French Value Village. We wandered around the ghetto of Tours for approximately two hours before we decided that the bargain superstore called Active was nowhere to be found. During this time, my feet suffered enormously. When I finally returned to my bed and peeled off my shoes, I discovered that the toe end of  my brand new sock (yeah, I wear socks now) was soaked in blood. My toes dug into each other and created small gashes on their sides. The more we walked in the days that followed, the more I realized that my need for new shoes was becoming dire.

You know, we did actually find Active. It took the assistance of Google Maps and a little wandering, but we did manage to find the store on tuesday afternoon, but shoes to no avail. (I did manage to find this pretty sweet duffel bag, and Paisley created dashing ensembles for Blake and Keith to the effect of Blue blazers and t-shirts with a skeleton and a vulgar phrase) I have come to the conclusion that for the French, it's all about looking formidable. They don't believe in walking shoes. Even the most comfortable looking boots sported some thin heel. This is ridiculous, Blake can't give me piggyback rides forever. (Don't get me wrong, they're pretty awesome)

Active, Tours- As seen from google maps

 

 Value Village Mooresville, NC - As seen from google maps

Tuesday night was the first night we were invited Chez Madame Kruger, un vraiment joli pavillion, where we had the traditional Gallette du Roi. For those of you that don't know, it is a tradition in many countries to eat a cake in the period after Christmas to celebrate L’épiphanie. In this cake, there is a small toy or a bean, and whoever finds this bean becomes the Queen! Continuing to follow the tradition, the child of the party must get under the table and decide who gets what slice in order not to be biased. Fun fact: I am not the youngest in our group...Ashley is...by two days. I however am the shortest, and therefore most childlike. I was bestowed the honor of sitting under the table and indirectly deciding the King and Queen of the party (It was Dr. Kruger and Blake)

Tradition!!! (Courtesy of Paisley Lewis)

At this point, my feet are throbbing. The area around my arches felt tense, as though a very large man was putting all of his weight on the area just below my toes. It got so bad that I asked Dr. Kruger if I could borrow some nail clippers. She gave me John's (Dr. Kruger's really cool long time FWB). Fun fact: I have no problem sharing nail clippers.

The nail clippers did help, but my feet remained tortured. At the gathering of the gallette, Blake offered me his Dr. Scholls. I've never really worn insoles before, so when he delivered the goods fresh from his feet last night, I was a little skeptical. 
These are the sensations I felt after I received them:

1) Inquiry: Will they fit in my shoe?
           Answer: Yes
 2) Curiosity: How differently will my foot feel once inside?
          Answer: Like sitting and knitting by a fireplace after a long day of shoveling.
3) Fear: What if they don't work? What if I am truly doomed to eternal foot pain?
          Answer: Don't be stupid, Quincy.  These insoles might have an interesting smell, but you won't have much time dwell on it. You are about to lose your ability to think coherently becau...

Yes world. I am temporarily relieved of foot pain. I thought of so many songs to describe how happy I felt last night, but I feel as though this song sums it up perfectly, for i've said this line plusieurs times throughout the day. How long will it last? I don't know. What I do know is that now, wherever I go, that's where I will be -- not anywhere else.

Traveling Quincy

Next Time: PARIS Pt. 1 (and the story of how Quincy got so classy on January 26, 2012)