I hear that's French for...something. And in the ten days or so that I'm hanging out in Western France, the least I can do is figure out how to greet people when I walk into a room. They think I'm awkward because I would speak negative French if that were possible, but they've only just met me and don't know that's my natural state. In due time, Frenchies.
I'm currently sitting at a big wooden desk using a computer that has almost entirely Frenched Blogspot and has degrees in celcius. I came back from a walk this morning with half a warm baguette in hand and walked into the house that I'm staying in to middle age woman who seems out of place in this here student house (Read discription here, as written accurately by my host). I'm walking in alone, without my transla-erh...Jacob and am instantly vulnerable. She mumbles what is likely yet another greeting I don't know and I say something mousily (?) under my breath that I hope sounds greeting-ish. It appears that she is cleaning, so I scamper into a room and rip pieces off of my baguette and catch the interwebs up with my adventure, trying to gague where Middle Age is in the house, and if that place is the bathroom because I can't hold it a lot longer.
Ahhnnyway. France (first typed: Franch. That could totally be a grossnasty salad dressing) is fantastic. After a solid 345309 of traveling, Jacob and I spent yesterday in Nantes walking around in the sun and drooling over H&M finds and small, well dressed children. My flight times were on my side for the time change, so assuming I stay awake for the next two hours, there is a beach with my name on it.
More later, nothing motivates increased posting like international adventures!
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