Celebrating A Uke

Fortunately, I haven't yet been to a french funeral. That doesn't mean that there wasn't a day when I went inside a french funeral home with an unlocked door to rinse off a bag full of watermelon juice soaked electronics and papers but that's a completely different kind of tragedy. However, last summer I was invited to a "memorial service" for a friend's father who had passed on a year earlier. I of course, showed up in a black dress thinking it was that kind of thing, but to my surprise everyone was wearing white. I was offered a very simple explanation (the simplicity may or may not have been related to my particular level of french). Basically, they were wearing white because he was buddhist and Buddhists don't mourn losses, they instead, celebrate memories. My LBD was quickly forgotten as I changed out of it into a swimsuit and spent the remainder of the party in a pool. Honestly, I really appreciated this perspective on quite possibly the most difficult aspect of life.

On a loosely related note, last weekend I lost my ukulele, Petunia. These two situations are incomparable in magnitudes of importance. Yet, the idea of celebrating the loss of something instead of mourning it really appeals to me. She was an amazing gift that was giving to me by a lifelong friend to later became my low maintenance traveling companion. When I got myself into some strange international confusions, she was in my hand waiting to strum away my moments of panic. If you've payed close attention and know me well, you know where this is going...

 Petunia's top ten list!!!!

10 ) Eau Claire : The first time I saw Petunia I didn't know anything about ukuleles. I didn't know how to strum nor could I decipher the finger placement for a single chord. Fortunately she was sitting next to a chord chart so I picked her up. At this moment in time, I carried a very heavy heart because there was something big in my life I needed to let go of but hadn't yet found the courage. Anyway, I picked her up, started strumming casually as I continued to talk with my friends. Five hours passed without me setting her down. The lovely Jaycee suggested that I borrow her. The exact details of the personal events following are unnecessary but I must say that thanks to Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah, and Petunia, the steps were significantly less painful because I was able to keep my downtime occupied without too much thinking.

9 ) Chippewa Falls, Segny : C'ukubabies. The combination makes me grin.

8 ) General airport friendliness : security officers, customs officers, flight attendants, and pilots all the same worldwide would ask me to play. It makes the entire awkward language and customs problems melt away. There was one time that I was nervously waiting in a customs line while the person in front of me was getting interrogated. As I stepped up to the counter, I prepared myself for an experience similar but instead the man simply asked me to play. A basic law of science states that anyone who can play a ukulele is harmless so the man stamped my passport without another word.

I've also had adorable and young Danish girls make the best of their basic English to ask me why my guitar is so little and missing strings.

7) Segny, France : When I was working as an au pair, I shared my birthday with the father of the family. This particular family of four had more language skills than my entire high school combined. So of course after dinner, Petunia led us through the birthday song in a variety of languages. This may be the time to mention that I never played well, but that was never the point. :D Sorry about the link but I came across size issues I didn't want to deal with. But you can still see it with a little persistance! Video on facebook!

6) Chaumont Sur Loire, France : After being lost on my bike in a giant forest for hours on a particularly rainy day, I came across two Parisians who didn't mind my company. We biked through a cats and dogs style downpour until we finally came across a campsite. Here we had a picnic, warmed up, hung out with the other campers, and enjoyed Petunia's pretty purs. (Notes from the velo : Chapitre Trois for photos) Also see Notes from the velo : Chapitre deux for an additional Petunia story during this bike adventure.

5) Amsterdam : After a long night out, my friend, John, and I were hanging out in the lounge of our hostel. There were a few other people in there hanging out when somebody asked me to play something. Naturally, I played Three Little Birds by Bob Barley, as I had been practicing it for weeks before going to Amsterdam. It turned into this awesome musical jam session as other people started picking up the instruments provided by the room. I had so much fun and stayed up so late that I missed my airplane the next morning and had to spent an extra beautiful sunny day riding a bicycle around Amsterdam.

4) Segny France : The first time that it snowed while I was living in France Klara was home sick from school. We were so excited about the snow that we decided to learn a Christmas song together. I even taught her how to play the keyboard. It was magical. 

3) Nappa Valley : When my family was cruising around checking out some vineyards in a giant van, my niece was a baby and got a little upset about all the time in the car. She loves music so My brother, Summer, my cousin Lindsay, and I all made the Chinese Animal Song for her in the car.

2) Istanbul : My bags were of course lost during my entire stay here. But the night before I was leaving the airport called offering to drop off my bag the next afternoon. I asked them if I could instead pick it up the next day on my way back to France. However, when I went to look for my bag at the airport, I was brought into a room for about 45 minutes with a very friendly man who gave me the bad news that my bag was on its way to my hostel. Of course it took me 3 weeks, daily phone calls, an angry email, and a friend yelling at the airline company before my bag returned. That's not the story here. The story is that this man asked me play while we were waiting. While I did he clapped and made up funny lyrics in his thick accent, made me tea, and introduced me to every person who passed through the room. After days of not having my soaps nor clean clothes to change into this was easily the happiest that I felt while in Istanbul.


1) San Francisco : My cousin, Lindsay, and I were on the bus when the amazing Bambi Lake picked a fight with my cousin. It went on and on she even mentioned how she would like to shoot her until I offered to buy Miss Lake a pack of cigarettes in exchange for one of her cds. Immediately following, she blamed the moodiness on her needin' a nicotine fix and her attitude flipped as quickly as crepe and she began loading us full of compliments. She went on and about how rich we will be because Lindsay has model potential, and me an obvious successful career ahead of me as an actress. Once she buttered us up, the three of us began a little street music on a sidewalk on Haight.

Saucisse

     Without doubt, some of my faux-pas-iest of faux pas happened once I started to get invited into the homes of locals. This story begins the night when I was introduced to my boyfriend’s father. It wasn’t Ben Stiller-esque, in fact the events of night progressed rather smoothly. We managed to converse although my french at this time was still under construction.

     His father had prepared two different batters so we could have galettes (crêpes salés) pour dîner and crêpes sucrés pour dessert. Beforehand, we were discussing the special sausage that would be used. Their eyes were filled with immense pride as I took my first bite. It was as if they were watching a beloved  child take its first steps. Fortunately, I’ve had enough training in tasting awful things to play it cool. On the outside I was smiles and sounds of satisfaction while my tête was searching to recall this putrid taste. Oh yes! Intestines, but with the strongest taste known to my palette. I really need to work on graceful declines because I barely managed to choke this down before a second was placed in front of me. 

     With my first bite of the second galette my body gently refused with a gag of warning. As soon as the father turned around, I pulled out the sausage and handed it off to my beau. We soon moved onto dessert. It was a charming night with a successful escape.

     The embarrassing part comes later. As I mentioned, my french communication was still entrain de developer. So when asking my petit ami about this I said something along the lines of "What is the name of that strange sausage that lives with your dad?" In case you are interested in the name so you can avoid intestines on your next visit to France, it’s called "andouille de guéméné." 

     Let me present to you two truths.

1. It’s impossible to remember a word you have only heard once sans reading. I, therefore, continued to refer to it as, "la saucisse qui habite avec ton pere." Hey, it worked. If somethin’s not broken, don’t fix it!

2. This expression is actually a commonly used french insult which has the same meaning as calling someone’s girlfriend a disgusting pig.

     Okay. I had no idea I was saying something insulting. Also, I had never met the father’s girlfriend. How was I to know that he was telling his family this and having a good laugh at my expense? He claims that he told people about this because it was just so cute how I was innocently saying something so rude and vulgar. Let’s fastforward to 3 months later.

     Dîner chez grand-mère. It’s my first time to meet the grandma. There were six of us around the table. His mom, dad, brother, him, and myself. He decides it would be super cute to tell this story to his grandma. I’m also learning for the first time as his grandma is looking at me as if I am a horrible person. Of course he better explained it later and she’s welcomed me in her home after. Nothing like a good first impression!

Anniversaires

I originally started writing this in response to how touched I was when I went to a friend's 20th fete d'anniversaire. *** ( please excuse my lack of accents, I don't possess a french keyboard ). I must admit that it is always pleasant to attend a party qui commence avec 60 kissy sounds and 60 cheek touches. At this particular party, there were multiple people who offered flowers to the Mom because she went through a lot on this day as well. How sweet! Anyway, some time has passed and I find that once again I am thinking about this when I just so happen to be bloggin'. What a great time to be writing about birthdays! In baby news on September 5th, 2014 a baby boy was born in the Philippines today named Henry Cylo. In other news, I was born on this day 28 years ago.

Does anyone else find that birthdays stress them out a bit? I love 'em, they're always so beautiful, positive, and full of love. But there's always loads of things to do because it's still a normal workday. I usually find myself smiling through the day while simultaneously juggling thoughts about whether or not I managed to achieve anything worth doing in the past year. Mais Bien sur, I have!! I started writing a blog, saw some truly amazing places, shared amazing moments with my most adored people, received my B1 diploma in Francais, heck I even backed up my computer.

Despite all this I still feel a little bad that I never got nominated to dump the icewater on my head. Of course even though I never felt the cold splash, I still took the time to read WEB MD information on ALS....Meh who wants ice water poured on 'em after this record breakingly cold summer in the  L'Ain region of France. Furthermore, my soul wouldn't allow me to use that much water after the dinner conversation this evening. Apparently the water bill at the house quadrupled after I moved in.  This was eating away at my conscious. How could I have become someone wasteful? I decided that the only nonsubjective way to settle this was to calculate my ecological footprint. This is when I realized that we would need 2.5 planets to support my lifestyle if everybody lived like I do.  Yikes!

If you guys want to do something cool for my birthday, or just something cool in general, go to this site and calculate your own. http://ecologicalfootprint.com/ It's a little silly because it insists that you are either from England or any other part of the world. Neanmois, I seem to find it believable. I would be so thrilled to see what results people got if you are comfortable sharing. Or share a cool album you found recently. I could use some good music recommendations.

I also want to mention the things that were jumping around in the back of my head. Here's what I got for y'all.  I'm running a 5k on SEPTEMBER 6TH in memory of the sweet Ethan, the son of my cousins. http://www.ethansreason.org/5k/5k-registration/ Also, a guy from my high school passed away at the age of 28 from Cancer. He was a truly special person. I even read a touching article about Andrew Cray and his hard work with LGBT.

Anyway, I hope that everyone has a good September 5th. I rather like this day!





***I apologize for my lack of accents used (If anyone wants to know a good birthday present for me, it's the rubber thing that goes over the macbook5,1 with a french alphabet on it). Does writing wink wink still mean anything? I can't figure out how to use the emoticons in blogger. <3

April fools!

     While growing up, April Fools' Day was an absolute thrill for those with a good prank in mind. I remember that one year my house was victim to the the classic rubber band on the faucet hose.  In this timeless prank; an unsuspecting, thirsty individual is found holding an empty glass under the faucet. Malheuresement, because of the remaining sleep crusties in their eyes, they always fail to see the elastique band secretly placed to redirect the water. One flick of the wrist to turn on the water spicket and VOILA ; their dry shirt is cruelly transformed into a wet shirt. 

     Of course this was as far as pranking went at my house. My parents (unfortunately) disciplined us well. We all knew that there would be no laughing if they found things like uncharming urine puddles caused by saran wrapped toilets. (However, we did all share a hearty laugh when the septic tank backed up and a giant turd punched the shower drain out on Christmas 2006). Usually, the extent of my blagues consisted of me saying a blatant, obvious lie and then shouting, "APRIL FOOLS!"

If only I had had a paint mixer. I would have, without a doubt, tried to pull off this one.

   

 

     The unfortunate thing about April Fools' is its similarity to trick-or-treating: most people stop participating after high school. On the flip side, I've landed a gig that pays me to play with children. Thanks to this, when my little companion asked me if I had any good pranks up my sleeve I simply flashed a devilish grin. In reality I was hoping that Google would lead me to some fresh material (they don't have a rubberbandable hose connected to their sink).

     That night I researched April Fools' Day like a 21st century adult. Ça veut dire, I read a Wikipedia page. It's actually quite interesting! Did you know that in England pranks are played only in the morning. Or that the Scandinavians have faux accident sites with corresponding news articles. Furthermore, the Polish take the day so seriously that important political documents cannot be signed at the risk that they may be considered a joke. Meanwhile, in France the gens are innocently celebreating, "Poissons D'Avril," by sneaking around and trying to stick paper fish to other peoples' backs without them knowing it. 

     The last, and most important thing that I found that March night was the perfect prank for an Oreo loving 10 year old.

Here's how it works:

1) Pick up a packet of Double Stuff Oreos at your local Carrefour or grocery provider. 

2) Open the pack and remove the first one.

3) Split it in half.

4) Scrape out the cream (the use of teeth for this step is highly recommended).

5) Fill in the missing space with tooth paste. 

6) Put it back in the package 

   *Please note, it may be a good practice to eat one or two of the Oreos, otherwise a less gullible      victim may question the full yet opened package of Oreos.

     My heart was thumping as she skipped towards me. She saw the package in my hand and then her face transformed into a giant gleaming grin as she exclaimed, "Nyum! Oreos." I felt a little nervous that she would notice the toothpaste. Instead she giggled, "Goodie! They're extra juicy today!" 

     

     Her joyful eyes were as big as the chocolate cookies as she proceeded to put the entire cookie, toothpaste side up, on her tongue. This was when my nurturing side kicked in. I'm pretty sure that there's a limit to how much toothpaste a 32 kilogram creature is supposed to consume and I certainly didn't want to be the one to test it. I dramatically screamed, "NO! Don't eat it!" 

      This commotion caught the attention of her favorite frenemy. When she came running over we explained the whole situation to her in French. She chuckled and then asked if she could see it. To be nice, I offered her a "vrai" Oreo.  I'm not sure how she pulled this off but this child managed to mix up the real Oreo and the toothpaste Oreo. As I saw the toothpaste Oreo approaching her mouth I began screaming,  "Ne mange pas, NE MANGE PAS!" Yet she still ate the toothpaste Oreo. 

     And while all of this was going on, there were people walking around with paper fish taped to their backs. Poisson D'Avril! 

**Please note that this was not published on April 1 for reassurance that this is a true story.

Other People's Children (An Angry Rant + Song Review)

FAQ's for an Au Pair

Q: Do you have your own section of the house?

A: lot of people do, but not me. I have a small room that is partially used as the family's office.

Q: Do you like the job?

A: Yes, The kids are cool so as long as I can get them in the proper mentality, we can do any thing together. Like this I often have picnics, spend afternoons in the park, and go to museums. Furthermore, it's really laid back and for the first time in years I have plenty of time to study language and pursue hobbies (such as writing).

Q: Is it weird living with a family?

A: No, this family is really cool.

Q: What's the weirdest part of the job?

A: Meeting kids in the middle of their lives. Let me give you an example, the older girl that I care for LOVES Selena Gomez. If I were a parent and spent the last ten years adjusting to life as a parent, one of two things would inevitably happen;
1) I would be jaded by the bad music and not listen closely to the words anymore.
or
2) I would redevelop innocence in a way that prevents my mind from jumping to disturbing interpretations.

But the other day when she put on a Selena Gomez CD the first song I heard was called, "Birthday." This is how it starts.

Tell 'em that it's my birthday [x3]
When I party like that
Every night's my birthday
They don't know, so it's okay
Tell 'em that it's my birthday
When I party like that

I don't know what a 10 year old thinks when they hear this but I don't think 10 year olds should be planning on doing birthday activities that require an explanation.

There's also this.

Falling into you, falling into me (so yummy)
How do you do, come and meet the queen, cake and cream
Blow your dreams, blow your dreams, blow your dreams away with me
Blow your dreams, blow your dreams, blow your dreams away with me
So yummy

It took me three listens before I managed to put a positive spin on these lyrics. They're making birthday wishes together, right?

I'm going to go ahead and skip over One Direction lyrics. I suppose if I had an au pair when I was 10 she would have felt exactly the same about the Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys.

Q: Have you had any problems living with the family?

A:  Up until today, I would say absolutely not. However, today I harshly scolded this young lady for the first time. It was related to invasion of privacy and destruction of personal property. Let me start at the beginning.

In case some are unaware of how annoying Apple can be, let me give a brief explanation. I bought my computer in 2007. She's still going strong but can no longer be updated. I bought my Iphone (no longer used as a phone) in 2011, and it's fine. The only problem is that after an update last fall, my Iphone cannot connect to Itunes. I believe she will only fornicate with those who fall within her strict age range. In other words, my computer is too old to support the latest version of Itunes. Ultimately this means that I can never change the music on it but can still upload pictures.

Back to the story... On Tuesday, I realized, after two ten year old girls tried to crack the password for my Iphone, that it could become locked temporarily. Naturally, I was slightly annoyed when I had to wait an hour to use it but after spending an entire day giggling with 10 year olds and fondly remembering my past, I nostalgically let it go.

As I don't work Wednesdays, I spent the next two days elsewhere and returned Thursday for work. This afternoon after the baby started his nap, I tried to use my Iphone and discovered it is locked forever. My mind immediately jumped to Tuesday when it had been locked and thought about the motives of everyone in the house to go into my room and play with my phone. Of course I didn't *see* it happen, and she claims it was the baby so nobody really knows what to believe.

Due to this permanent lock, the only way to open it is to connect to a computer with Itunes. For this  I can probably use somebody elses computer. In reality the only real loss (other than time lost on this project and finding another computer) is that my pictures from my vacation with my brother from last week can never be recovered. Plus, the mother is awfully understanding and I believe her and I will find a fair way to resolve this problem.

In reality, no, I don't really have problems living with the family, nothing more annoying than dealing with Apple, anyway.

Any more questions about the life as an au pair?

Notes From The Vélo : Fin

Did you already read Chapter Three?

Day 7
108.77 km
Chaumont Sur Loire --> Villandry

     This was the day that I saw FOUR châteaux.

1) Chaumont Sur Loire
     The first, of course was in Chaumont Sur Loire where I started. Do I regret not taking pictures? Nah, there are millions on the internet that put my photography skills to shame. château chaumont Hopefully, y'all can believe that I was actually here without seeing me in front of it making a peace sign.

2) Amboise
     Just before the city there is a huge hill. Which means that there are scenic stops to look down at the river and the castle. I took this photo while I was eating a Breton Galette. As mentioned earlier, I'm not much of a photographer so here's what it looks like when captured by someone who knows what they are doing Château Ambois Image.

Château D'Amboise

3) Tours
     Of all the places that I saw and stopped at on my trip, Tours was the worst. One of my favorite things about my bike adventure was how friendly EVERYBODY was. This stopped as soon as I entered Tours. No joke, I saw the sign for Tours and the next lady that I greeted could barely take a second to give me an evil eye before looking away. This place was dilapidated, industrial, overcrowded with grumpies, and confusing. I got out of here as fast as I could and took my lunch in a place called Lulu park. As you know, if this was the end of the story, it wouldn't be a hotlebug story, so let me tell you about my quadruple tour through Tours. 
     After my Lulu park lunch I mounted Monty B to pedal onward. I didn't make it far before I noticed that the river was no longer flowing the same direction that I was riding. I'm no expert, but I know that giant rivers don't suddenly change their direction of flow. Luckily, one of France's strengths is convenient tourism offices. Backtracking and going through Tours again didn't exactly please me, but I was given three maps with highlighted routes so I was confident I could find my way. Let me explain what *actually* happened.

• 1) I immediately lost the street signs for Loire a vélo. I asked someone how to find the piste cyclable for the Loire River, he pointed out where it was. I took his advice, and found myself staring at the exact same spot I was before. 
• 2) I followed the map a little more carefully this time. Got further into tours, I even found the train station. Tours immediately put a bad taste in my mouth, but the second time through this bad taste blossomed into hatred. The icing on the cake was the bike lanes. In tours, they're shared with Taxis! Nobody was using these taxis, which means I was sharing my lane with a bunch of parked cars. In addition, the lanes weren't big enough for both the bikes and the taxis, c'est a dire I was doing a bike/car weaving act for the second time. At one point I saw people with bike maps going the opposite direction. I stopped them and asked the woman how to get to the path going in the direction of Saumur. She seemed distracted but for some reason I trusted her. And what do you know, she guided me right back to the same spot as before.
• 3) You know how they say that a third time's a charm? It's not. This time I went a different way that seemed logical with my map. The problem with the maps is that only select streets were labeled. Along with that, the end of one map was not the start of the next. Furthermore, each time I stopped to ask for directions, the people would keep flipping the map around trying to figure out which river was which. Next time, I'm bringing a compass. Regardless, I did my best and as it started to rain a woman stopped to give me directions. I WAS ON CLOUD NINE when I found a shopping street that led to a bridge. This HAD to be it. No. After I got to the road next to the river, I went 500 meters and found the same spot as always.
• 4) I know what you're thinking, how could somebody with such a horrible sense of direction make it this far on a bike adventure? The answer is that it's easy to follow a river. It only becomes problematic when you have to go through a town and follow a different river for a bit. After three times through Tours my only goal in life was to leave Tours. And I did. I found Le Cher and followed him to my fourth Château. 

     Obviously I hated Tours too much to take a picture, but for the sake of consistency, here's a link to look at someone else's photo of the castle in Tours. Tours Château

4. Villandry 
     I was so tired by the time I got here but I was out of Tours and that was all that mattered. I was so pleased with my escape that I dropped $100.00 to sleep in a fancy hotel with 2 meals included. The food was good but this forever goes down as the day when I stayed at the "Cheval Rouge" (red horse) and ate horse for the first time. châteaux Villandry

Day 8
89.55 km
Villandry --> Saumur
     "Chinon, chinon rien." Of all the châteaux in France, this is the only one of which I know its pun. Laissez- moi expliquer. Chinon sounds very similar to "Si non" which means "if not" and "rien" means "nothing." I first heard this on the Montmartre walking gastronomy tour. It went something like this.
Jean Paul : We'll have a bottle of the Chinon
Server      : Chinon, chinon rien
Thanks to this, I decided to take a detour on the trip just to go to Chinon. I really love puns. This was the only châteaux that I paid to go inside of. In case you are curious, I said this word on the upside of 100 times this day.(I even wrote it in the guest book when I signed me name).
     I highly recommend Chinon to anyone going to France. There's a medieval city with great wine and the fortress is really cool! The fort has been transformed into a history museum. They even had a dress up room.

  

Day 9
16.33 km
Saumur --> Nantes
    My bike ride came to an abrupt end. I was riding, minding my own business when I noticed that my wheels seemed unbalanced. When I got off to look at my back tire, I immediately found the culprit. The tire had ripped open. At this point the tube was still holding air although sticking out of the tire. 3 . 2 . 1 . BOOOOM! I couldn't hear anything for a minute after the tube exploded in my face. I used my deaf time to think.
     What did I have to work with? For starters, it was a Sunday in France. For those of you who don't know, this means EVERYTHING is closed (except for the tabacco shops and the boulangeries, cigarettes and bread are really important in France). Here I was with my really heavy bike sporting a dead back wheel. When my hearing returned, I heard some people having a barbecue outside.
Me: Is there anyway I can get a new tire today?
Them : Nope, it's Sunday.
Me: There's a bus stop here, where does the bus go?
Them : Nowhere, it's Sunday.

done gone 'n' worn dem tires out

     In the end, I knew my options were to walk forward 8 kilometers then take a train to Angers where I could camp and find a bike shop the lendemain. My other option was to walk back 6 km to Saumur camp at the same site as the previous night and fix my bike in the morning. All I could think was, "this bites." I didn't want to do either. I took 5 steps forward with poor wounded Monty then stopped. I put my thumb up in the air and waited.
     When Martin stopped he originally offered to drive me to Angers. However, the only thing better than completing a challenge, is finding a way to get out of it. So when he mentioned he was going to Nantes I asked if I could go with him. My first time hitchhiking. My heart raced a bit but I felt safe because he had the same Hamsa amulet of protection hanging in his car that I had on my keys. I buckled up, put my window down, played a little ukulele, and for the first time in 9 days, I relaxed.

Nantes was cool. Will I write about it now? No, this is the story of my BIKE ADVENTURE. But here's a picture.

Les Machines de l’île

     One last thing. Monty B was left in Nantes. I just sighed and threw my head down thinking about where to start here. When I was buying my train tickets I did a bit of research to determine how to cross the country with my bike. On the website, there are little bike symbols if it is a train that allows bikes. I wasn't sure how to buy the 10€ bike ticket so I decided to go into the TGV office.
    I have to say that my lesson learned on this trip is to trust my instincts. This is based on the train stop the first day, the jerks who can't read a map but help anyway in Tours, and this woman who WORKS at the train ticket office. She told me that she was absolutely sure that I could take my bike on ANY train. She warned me that I may have to remove the front tire but that's it. When unsure about something ask an expert. However, keep in mind that just because its someone's job to know something, doesn't mean that they do.
     When I arrived at my platform I asked the conductors where my car was. They then asked me where I was going with the bike. I thought they were joking around when they told me bikes aren't allowed on this train. My response, "Vous rigolez!" haha I said it twice. Their eyes were like stones when they stared me in the eyes to convince me it wasn't a joke.
     I feel horrible that this vacation ends on a sad note. Let me assure you all that this is a comedy and not a tragedy. I learned so much about my capabilities, my limits, and my mind. My french got a bajillion times better and I met some amazing folks. Besides, I'm sure that Monty B is happier in his new home.

Monty B's Nantified makeover

Notes from the Vélo : Chapitre Trois

Have you read Chapter Two?

Day 5
72.25 km
Olivet --> Blois
     Two funny things happened this day.

1. 1) I patched up the tube on the inside of my tire 3 more times before I considered checking it for something sharp. Bingo! After that, no more flat tires.
2. 2) I made an old man friend named Gerard. (this one requires a little more explanation than the premier.)

     After I finally fixed my frustratingly frequent flat tire funk I was feeling on top of the world. My tires were holding air, it wasn't raining, AND everything around me was absolutely stunning. I lightheartedly put on some musique to sing along to as I rode. Thanks to this, an elderly man thought that I was talking to him and caught up to see what I wanted. He realized quickly that my accent was not french and asked where I was from.
     Gerard's response to me saying I was from U.S.A. was that there was a bench I needed to see. I wasn't sure if I was understanding him properly, regardless, I accepted without question. It was my fifth day of traveling alone. At this point, I was stopping to chat with the snails crossing the path. In other words, I was ecstatic to have someone to talk to. With my limited french and childish curiosity about french culture, I felt like a young girl talking to her grandfather. Thanks to this, I now understand at what time one stops saying bonjour (good day) and starts saying bonsoir (good evening).
     When we arrived at the bench, I was proud of my french comprehension yet unsure how to react to an ordinary bench. However, he was thrilled to show me a little plaque with an American woman's name on it so I asked him to take my photo with the bench. While this was happening, four more elderly french folks came along with stories to share about this wonderful American woman who had lived in their village.

     Their stories probably could have gone on for hours but then Gerard invited me to the cimetière to see the woman's gravestone. Why not? We've come this far. This presented another situation where I wasn't quite sure how to act. His shock at the lack of flowers on her gravestone didn't pass after a minute or even five. As the sun was starting to set I started to think about how I didn't know where I was sleeping that night. I needed to act quick without disrespecting this wonderful woman who had passed. Enfin, I offered to give him some money to bring her flowers another day. Gerard refused my money but promised to bring her flowers every time he passed by the cemetery.
     I found this really touching. I'm sure this happens everywhere in the world, however, it was my first time to see it. I'm more familiar with the scene of busy people rushing to point B. While here people get benches and their stories told just for being a sweet lady that smiled at her neighbors.
     Gerard biked with my all the way to Blois to make sure that I found the tourism office without problems. I found that Blois had all the charm of Paris with far less people. It was like a dream.

I walked on this surreal path because from further away I thought it might have been a painting.

Day 6
54.49 km
 Blois --> Chaumont Sur Loire
     On Thursday I rode for about an hour before I took my first break. I was resting under a tree to let some dark clouds pass by when a couple saw me and stopped to wait out the clouds with me. These people just so happened to be on a mission to bike across the world. Yep here's their site. http://www.nowhere2far.com/
 After they left I was so excited thinking about their excursion that I misread the bike trail signs and started following a different bike trail. Before I knew it I was in the middle of "Le Foret de Russy." When I finally managed to find a sign in this massive forest, there was no trace of the river, or any of my destination towns. Because it's no good to bike when frustrated, I stopped to clear my head and have a picnic before turning back. Finding my center was easy here as I was in an astonishing forest but more importantly a parade of 20 - 30 Penny farthing's passed through the woods.
     The good part about retracing your steps is that you have a second chance to experience the little things you missed. What I had missed the first time around was a sign suggesting to stop for a rest. Although well rested from my picnic, I followed the signs and discovered a garage covered in thank you messages. There were paintings, chalk boards, papers, etches in the walls, EVERYBODY was grateful. Also there was juice, water, cookies, crackers, tea, and a coffee machine. The only thing not in this garage was people. Of course that didn't stop me, I drank a full pot of coffee and ate about 3 cookies before I found a man, a woman, and a grandma. For people who invite strangers into their garage for coffee, they were surprisingly reserved.

     Of course it's annoying to get lost, waste time, and bike extra kilometers, but had this not happened, I wouldn't have met Estelle et Sebastian. I saw them just in front of me as I approached the intersection where I got lost before. I was scared of making the same mistake, so I asked this nice Parisian couple if I could roll with them for a bit. We didn't make it far before it started pouring. Thanks to power in numbers (or maybe they were just as embarrassed to admit weakness and suggest stopping as I was) we biked on through. There was no sign of the rain letting up and it was coming down hard! Finally after about an hour we found a campsite where we immediately undressed, threw all of our clothes in the dryer, set up camp and made a quaint piquenique together.

Look, ma! I made friends!