Sunday, February 19, 2012

Young Baby Tired

                                "The Road goes ever on and on                               
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say." 
JRR Tolkein 



This week in France has been a lot different from all of the others. We still had all of our ordinary classes and went to Cha Cha Pasta and all of the usual Tours habits, but this one was one of adventure.

Monday was pretty normal.

Tuesday was Valentine's Day and it was the first one where I didn't see little red hearts plastered everywhere, but yeah, pretty normal.

Wednesday was the real first day of adventure. In France, I have become used to getting an appropriate amount of sleep every night. When I get less than that I become groggy and easily unnerved. I think I picked up a bad afternoon nap habit from my father, too. I must be able to curl up for at least an hour before I eat dinner. (Genetics?) I digress. Wednesday the newbs had to get up before the sun did and catch a train to Orleans. (The first one wasn't good enough, so I guess they had to make a new one?) We were summed there by the French Government to affirm that we were actually in the country and that we were physically sound.

Good news: None of us has Tuberculosis! Yay.

The best part about Wednesday though was the fact that the train we took to get to the capital of Centre was one with compartments! Watching the french countryside go by our window was just like magic. The day would have been perfect if not for looming literature presentations and papers to be turned in as soon as we returned to Tours.

Thursday, again normal. We did hang out with a french person that we met last week though. Before meeting him, I was convinced that every single person in Europe that tried to speak English spoke it well, and if they were uncomfortable with their speaking ability they just stayed quiet or waited for you to speak to them in their native language. Not this kid. But bless his heart he tries.



We taught him the longest word in the english language and he finally learned the correct pronunciation of the word "young", but he's still working on the opposite of best. The young people that we are really enjoy going to bed at around midnight, so when I told him that we were going to go home to sleep, he called me a sleepy baby. (#rosiestrawnlove) I learned how important syntax really is when I received a text saying that I was a "young baby tired" I couldn't help wonder about how awful I must sound speaking to French people. But whatever, the cranky bus lady can just try to figure out what I mean when I ask her, "Does this train go to Carrefour?"

Friday was just happy. The team went to the best lunch restaurant in town and Keith managed to get a free bowl of pasta for filling up his handy-me-down frequent customer card. Paisley sewed a button on my coat. The cold front finally disappeared. I wore my toms outside. Now I don't need to keep the sunshine in my shoes. We watched a movie at Jane's house that painted a hilarious portrait of relations between the French and the Belgians. It was all about border patrol. If the U.S. wanted to do a remake, it wouldn't take. They could either do U.S.-Mexico, which could cause some controversy, or U.S- Canada which would last aboot five minutes when Canada decides to just let all of the Americans in with no struggle.   

Then there was yesterday. I don't know about you, but ever since I was eleven years old i've wanted to gaze upon the White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. (1) Mont St. Michel was almost as good. The city is on an island just off shore in the northern region of France called Bretagne. It looks a lot like Minas Tirith at first glance, though not as big and not as white. I really can't describe it, so here are some pictures:
What Mont St. Michel is supposed to look like
What it actually looks like


There was no need to be tossed to get inside



My never ending search for the White Tree of Gondor

Mont St. Michel also = Hogwarts


The awful thing is that while at Mont St. Michel, my camera died for the first time while in France so I didn't get to take any of my own pictures of my new favorite place: St. Malo.

St. Malo is a city by the ocean, and when we arrived after our visit to Mont St. Michel, it was sunset. The water was a clear blue and tasted salty. Saturday was the first time I stepped in the other side of the Atlantic, the first time I stepped on a rocky cliff face on the beach, and the first time I set eyes on where I'm going to live after retirement. (Paisley lost her hat to the deep depths of the ocean on saturday, too). I'm really upset that I don't have any pictures to commemorate the second part of the day but i'm sure Keith, Ashley, or Paisley might have some killer photos to show in their blogs instead.

Why do I always feel like I have more to say after I finish a blog? Maybe it's because I didn't sleep more than ten hours last night. This is frustrating. But for now, the sky is blue in Tours, and we have a lot in store coming up in the next few weeks, so stay tuned!

Love as always from
Traveling Quincy

1- Said by Boromir in The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Also: Chris Blanchard.

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