memory lingering like a blue balloon of parfume

see all photos »

The sun slowly filtered through pink, gauzy, french panes into my fuzzy eyes.  7:00        CRAP! A flurry of quilt and the best day of my life commenced. Why are creaks always louder when everyone else is sleeping? Each step seemed like a piercing shriek as I stumbled down the stairs and out into the morning street, freshly washed with rain. The tourist busses were just pulling up as I sprinted into the Place De Roi. My palm, sporting bit of condensation, slid over my cell phone- 7:15 on the dot, thank God, I made it! Christy, Val, and Jackie greeted me french style and we chose our places near the back of the bus, ready to enjoy the scenery. Monseigneur Melin began the trip with his usual jolly grin accompanied by <<une, deux, trois>> and we were off whirring through Brittany, a countryside of green fields, provincial homes, sheep, stone and sea coast. the bus finally came to a rest outside the battlements of the city St. Malo. We all filed out into sea breeze and misty rain, which was an all to damp environment for my poor friend Frank, who B-lined strait for the toilettes. The sailboats in the busy harbor drew me a little way farther down the wall for a better vista and when i returned, frank smelled a little oddly clean. he commenced to inform us that upon his entry, the toilette had commenced a thorough cleaning of itself and him. Thus, a damp, but clean Frank and the rest of my fully amused group began its journey atop the walls of St Malo. The sea and sky broke only for small islands, sail boats and gulls and the wall wound to an end, where we descended into the brick streets and ducked into a small café for some fresh mussels and hot gilets (a type of crepe made with wheat flour and salt). As I sat and sipped a petit café, Yousouf told stories about his life and I reflected on how great is was to be having a petit café with these three amazing people, who I did not even know existed 3 weeks ago. We wandered the ancient city and ran into some of the Japanese girls in my class. They pulled out their little high tech cameras right away and many photos with the favorite peace sign pose commenced. The bus was a welcome repose for comparing photos and laughing at poor Frank. When the wheels stopped turning an hour later we dropped our jaws at the medieval Mt. St. Michel in all its glory. The island, piled high with ancient stone and topped with a cross is plopped in the middle of a vast expanse of flatness and windswept sand water. Needless to say I lived behind my lens for quite a bit of our journey up the winding stone streets and stairs into the peaceful abby with its breathtaking views. As the bus pulled away my eyes stayed glued on the window and one picture perfect scene followed another until the light faded away. Back at the Place Du Roi in Angers I joined a group of about ten and we headed for the stadium. Unfortunately I took a nasty fall off the sidewalk into a puddle, no i had not had anything to drink- the sidewalk just hated me for some reason, but nothing ripped except for my skin so I did not loose my fight with the sidewalk too bad. Angers soccer team, #2 in their league, tied the #1 team in an intense match initiating us into the French love for soccer with balloons, streamers, and lots of riled up men. Finally at around 11 we followed our stomachs into a little french restaurant for a bite to eat and then drifted off to our separate houses to collapse into sleep.

CRAP! A flurry of quilt and the best day of my life commenced.