"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." - Oscar Wilde

Saturday, February 19, 2011

I Wish I Had an IV of Queso Dip...Or Cidre

Today we traveled to Bretagne with CIDEF and visited St. Malo and Mont St. Michel. Bretagne is known for their pommes, and more importantly, their cidre. My friends and I ate pastries and sat by a fireplace in a warm pub. We sipped cidre and the barkeeper spoke to us in English.

I nodded off on the drive to Mont St. Michel. Only twenty people live there and I can't decide how they feel. They're either the happiest people on earth (because the île is stunning) or the unhappiest (because of all the tourists). We were rushed around the island since we only had two hours and we spent one of them touring the abbey.

After a long day, the girls and I ended up at McDoner (duh). Now Berry is throwing her friend a birthday party downstairs. I'm honored she invited me because she kicked out the rest of her family. No, really. I have no idea where they are. Everyone was super nice when I greeted them with my windswept hair and bloodshot eyes. I told Berry I was super tired so I was gonna chill in my room. I hate being lame but I don't have the energy to attempt speaking French...and the frîtes are starting to settle.

Anyways, Berry asked if she could borrow the couch in my room since her friends were spending the night. She came upstairs to get it and I found a letter from my boyfriend. He had sent me one for Valentine's Day and had included a poem he wrote in French. Am I the luckiest or what.

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