Mountains and the Mediterranean

We left Paris on a gloomy Friday morning to take a train from the Gare de Lyon to Nimes, France. It was a 3 hour train ride through rolling green hills and farmland. Stepping out of the train in Nimes was like stepping into a sauna, an expected shock but vastly different from the cool drizzle we had left only a few hours earlier. While on the train my mom had the startling realization that she had left her drivers license in Giverny, when we had rented bikes to go see Monet’s garden. Since we were about to pick a rental car in Nimes that would transport us around the south of France for the next week, this was, to say the very least, not good. Thankfully, do to a very trusting rental car ser

Expectations and the Eiffel Tower

All my life I've had this idea in my head about Paris. It was this magical city in my head, straight out of the past, full of artists and dogs and flea markers. I had this book when I was a kid called “Linnea in Monet's Garden”, and I think that's when this love affair with France started. I imagined walking cobbled streets and sitting in cafes eating croissants. I imagined seeing monets house in giverny and having a picnic in the garden. From then on I dreamed of going to France. I started teaching myself French in elementary school, and would spend hours searching exchange programs in France. I had multiple French pen pals. Over the years, I grew up (a bit). France became lower on the list