Today I will tell you of how I drowned my heartaches, gorging myself on patisseries and tomme de chèvre.
I woke up at dawn, wide-eyed as a marigold, and descended the stairs for provisions after an abridged version of a good night's sleep. I have got in the habit of eating two fig soy yogurts one after the other, and now I simply can't imagine how anyone could stop after one. Back in the U.S. I'm going to miss having a real expresso kick-start my day. I can't wait however to fill myself up with a real American breakfast. One week ago the family brought home a petit chaton and I have been witness to the darling little monster's psychological nosedive. She was so nice the first couple days, and cute as a button. This morning she can't stop attacking my feet but she somehow got it into her furry little head that if I think I can fool her by wearing socks then she is going to climb my leg.
Crisp, leather-jacketed, and out on the bike at 8am. Two months ago it used to take me a trentaine to get to the other face of the lake, but now I can do it in under twenty, in the top gears. I don't hesitate with the extra to reward my new level in cyclism with a tartelette poire amande from a super tasty boulanger in the old village. It will whip me up knowing it awaits me in my bookbag for the sanctified 20 minute pause in my 4-hour long class.
After class I went to search for some gifts for my American cohorts. After lunch on the roof of a little beachside café, too much emmental cheese, not my top to begin with, I made a tour of my favorite little shops for some groceries in extremis to anticipate the return of my host family. I didn't weigh my bananas and somereason I was too embarrassed to ask the cashier to speak more slowly, so I left without them, and I'll say, I always took seedless grapes for granted in the states, what a luxury is in store! Moreover in my debacles got the wrong pain aux céréales, the pain that takes a true dental vigor to overcome.
There was sun in the afternoon at last, a lovely little buttonhole for me to study french in the garden. With a glass of mango juice and a giant cheese plate I cracked the binding of Harpers Grammar to find there is a whole world of things I never could have imagined to do about personal pronouns. I got as far as "Les gens qui vivent avec un chien finissent par lui ressembler" and then I took a sweet little nap on white clovers.
My host family came back, the clock had 9pm and I was not even hungry. We watched a film set in Nazi-era France which as a comedy subject was quite awful and with my french slumping all day long I ascended with the taste that you have in your mouth after drinking a bad drink.
