Remember France ’10

Its my birthday today. And Im giving waterproof mascara a run for its money (haha!)

Happy Birthday me!

Im remembering last year…

Remembering so much of last year, that I don’t want to forget, and looking back I couldnt find a single thing Id written on France, so I figured now would be a good time to “Go back.”

Last year Amanda and I were in London preparing to go to France. It happened to work out that we would fly to France, on my Birthday!

In the dark hours of the morning we all woke up, got ready, and grabbed our already packed bags. Davids nan handed me a small package. We ran out the door and down the steep hill in the cold dark morning. Buying a train ticket, and jumping on board. As we rode the sky light up, and the sun started to shine, the day came into full view as we arrived at our destination. Another train, another bus, and eventually we arrived at the airport. We lay in the grass passing the time as we waited. A picnic lunch, an opened present, and our time slowly passed.

We waited in line for the plane to France. The ride there was fairly short. They charged for everything on this airlines, and the same advertisement was played, repeatedly – advertising for themselves.

We arrived in France – made it through customs in less than five minutes and met with our cab driver who was holding a sign. Everything was in French. After our first visit with a French bathroom, we headed for our camp site.

A wonderful place – friendly, English speaking people who told us about the place. The internet, the horse riding, the trailer we would be staying in. And perhaps the most important thing: The bike rentals on site.

We found our trailer, unloaded our bags, and took off for: The Mediterranean sea.

We walked, and walked, and walked down a dirt trail.

The french signs reminded us that we were in France, but didnt help much telling us where to go.

Then the ocean appeared, almost out of nowhere. Bright blue in the distance. Stretching on for what looked like eternity.

After visiting we headed back, stopping at a grocery store for food where we got way too many groceries and had to carry them all back.

Somehow the tiny containers of lemon flavored yogurt tasted good in France.

The cheese. The bread. The fried potatoes. The microwave pizza. The apple tart. The nutty ice cream. Gummy worms. Coke bottles. And little note books.

The tiny shower, the gas smell scare, the bikes, the stormy nights, and wet clothes. The dryers that wouldn’t work, shoes that almost got stole, horse back riding, fig picking experiences. The towns that were discovered along the way. The smells.