Saint Paul de Vence (Finalement!!)

Jon and I have been trying to go to Saint Paul de Vence for the past 3 weekends with Fabiola and Niko, but the weather has just been awful.  Well yesterday, the sun was out all day long, and after getting there, we realized exactly why going on a rainy day would be a waste of time.

First though, let me say that it was a surprise that we even made it there.  Jon went to bed the night before with a stomach ache, and woke up feeling even worse.  Our plans were to leave at 3, and he pretty much slept until I made him get up and start getting ready at 2:30, despite asking him numerous times if he wanted me to tell them than we’d have to postpone because he wasn’t feeling well.  I thought I was stubborn.

Once we got there, his stomach ache slowly started to become less unbearable, but then he started to develop a terrible headache.  Definitely no fun.

Anyway, Saint Paul de Vence is a beautifully preserved medieval village perched in the mountains, a few miles from the sea.  It was simply breath taking.  The views up there are worth the trip alone, but its refreshing to see a village that old so well kept.  It is very small, and didn’t take long to meander through its stone streets, but it was very enjoyable.

There isn’t much to actually do there, just a few restaurants, but it is full of art galleries.  We mostly just peaked through the windows, given the unlikelihood that any of us could afford to buy any art that day, and stuck to enjoying the architecture and views.  We did however, go into a store that specializes in olive oils, and I got to sample some of their fruit vinegars.  Fabiola and Niko got a little sample kit with three types, and should I make it there again, I might do the same.  They were delicious.

Once we got home, Jon’s headache was so bad he could hardly stand up, or focus his eyes on anything.  I had to try and explain to our host family that he had a terrible headache that was making him feel nauseous, a concept that was apparently difficult to grasp in French culture (Jerome kept saying “A stomach ache and a headache are two different things” and Marie-France insisted “Eating when you have a headache helps”).  Either way, he definitely picked the wrong day to bail on dinner, because it was Marie-France’s birthday, but considering the fact that he never has a problem eating anything she makes, I’m sure she understood he really wasn’t feeling well.

This morning, he still wasn’t feeling well, and insisted I go on to class without him.  I didn’t want to leave him here alone, considering the fact that he was too achy to bother getting up for anything, but he kept saying “Its okay, we’re learning stuff we don’t know now, one of us has to go.”  So, despite my attempts, I went on to class without him.  Which proved to be pointless anyway because we didn’t learn anything today that she couldn’t have just explained in a few sentences to us the next day.  Oh well.

As for the rest of the day, he’s still not feeling 100% (though better, so thats a start), so I doubt we’ll be doing much.  I do need to do some toiletry shopping and get stuff to make sangria this week, but that will be an easy trip to the store.

Ciao!

Je déteste le jet lag.

I’m not exactly sure where to start, so we’ll start with Gasparilla, in Tampa.

Gasparilla is a HUGE pirate invasion celebration that takes place every year in January.  I’m not exactly sure how I feel about the town I live in celebrating piracy, but alas, nothing else of great interest has happened in Tampa worth celebrating.  I decided that, it being my first year in Tampa, that despite the fact that I had all my packing and last minute errands before the trip to run, I would go and partake in the event with my lovely former-roommate Cristina, and her friend Claire.  Needless to say, I understand why Jon refused to go, he hates crowds like that, but quite honestly, I had a great time…

That is until Jon called me to inform me that we couldn’t check into out flights because we didn’t have return tickets.  Uh oh, could they have waited until the very last minute to tell us this?  Needless to say, it was a long, agonizingly stressful process.  But, after a long evening of packing, a morning of running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and not eating a suitable breakfast, 12:00 PM Sunday finally rolls around, and we head to the airport.  Jon has a brownie in his hand, and I actually turned it down.  A BROWNIE!  Butterflies were the least of my concerns; I had dinosaurs in my stomach- big mean T-Rex dinosaurs.  Last minute goodbyes, a few unexpected tears, calls home to mom, and a Facebook status that only read “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!” we were on our flight to Dulles International in DC, conveniently seated in Economy Plus- free of extra fees.  That leg room was quite the teaser.

In flight, I worked on some questions for a quiz I planned on taking as soon as we got to our gate in Dulles.  I finished everything, was feeling great, until we got there and tried to connect to the WI-FI… I will never take free WI-FI for granted again.  Yes kids, Dulles International Airport charges their commuters for WI-FI.  So I had to call my mom and walk her through taking the quiz for me, which was quite the experience in itself.  As if being stressed about an 8 hour flight to Munich wasn’t enough.  9 out of 10 questions (apparently you can’t keep two disagreeing thoughts in your head at the same time, maybe I’m super woman…) and a final goodbye, and we were off to Munich…

Let us go back to the Economy Plus seats we had on our first flight.  We didn’t realize these were special seats until we saw our seats for our Munich flight.  Needless to say, the last time I flew for longer than 3 hours was well over 10 years ago.  I was significantly shorter, had a lot less to carry, and could entertain myself endlessly.  Our seats had so little leg room my knees were touching the seat in front of me… for those of you who know Jon, can you imagine how he felt?  To top it off, we had snotty nosed little Chinese kids in front of us who for the first 20 minutes insisted on bouncing back on their seats.  That is until Jon politely punched the back to the seat so hard his mother finally got the picture.  I need not go into the level of discomfort I felt on this plane.  I just kept thinking “I’m going to France… I’m going to France… This will not defeat me!”

8 hours later we landed in a cold and dreary Munich.  The first thing I noticed was that thankfully, every sign had instructions in English.  Second thing, the airport is so stereotypically German- I love it.  Clean, utilitarian, sterile in color and design, it’s wonderful.  Let me also note that their restrooms are incredible, and their women’s sign is sort of adorable.  Third thing, the police carry MP5s.  I haven’t seen something larger than a hand gun carried by police (other than on a military base) since I lived in Spain.  It sort of gave me the creeps.  I felt like thats what Nazi Germany must have felt like or something.  Guns of that power is something I would expect to see in Dubai, not Munich.  Goodness.  Fourth observation: Free coffee/tea/hot chocolate.  A welcomed dose of caffeine and sugar, I might say.  Though I think you work off all that extra energy walking back to get more, since you only get 6 oz at a time.  Oh, and another downside: yet another airport without free WI-FI.

After a three hour layover, we were ready to board our final flight to Nice.  Only we were unaware that we would have to bus across the the tarmac to get to our plane and politely wait outside as we climb the roll-a-stairs to our seats.  Mind you, this is the end of January in Munich… which means it was a bone-chilling 23 degrees Fahrenheit.  Cold enough that not only the breath from your mouth was visible, but from your nose, and if I’d paid close enough attention, probably our ears too.  Not the pleasant 74 we left in Tampa, that I was dressed for.  We had a tiny plane, with significantly more legroom than the previous, and finally a window seat.  Which was perfect because this was the first flight with a real view- The Alps. Less than 2 hours later, we landed in Nice, though given that its surrounded on one side by water, I was certain that we were about to plumet right in to the Mediterranean Sea (or The Med, as I heard an Englishman call it).

We are now settled into our room with our host family, awaiting our first dinner, while watching their son Nicolas play with ping pong balls and this neat cube thing.  He’s kind of adorable.

Je déteste l’emballage

I. Hate. Packing.

I know, I’m not actually leaving until the 30th, but I feel like I have been packing for this trip for weeks.  This is partly due to the fact that while packing up my entire apartment to move it into Jon’s storage unit, I basically had to pack for Europe at the same time.  Do you know how difficult it is to imagine what clothes you’ll want to wear six months from now?  To make things even more difficult, Jon seems to think we can both fit our stuff in ONE large suitcase.  I mean, I plan on packing light, but I’m still a girl!

I also find myself worrying about silly things, like shampoo, razors and deodorant.  I mean, the French aren’t exactly known for cleanly shaven armpits, or smelling like a bed of roses.  But I keep thinking about this whole trip as if I’m going to some third-world country in South America, and that is clearly not the case for Nice.

I can say, without hesitation, that I have an extremely long to-do list that needs finishing before I can leave the country, and I’m definitely running out of time.  But more on that later.  Until next time, bonne nuit!