Do I Contradict Myself?
Very well then I contradict myself. (I am large, I contain multitudes). [–Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”]
So, yeah, I did some more touristy things today. Went to a château, took a tour of some wine caves…SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO DO TOURISTY THINGS EVEN AFTER COMPLAINING ABOUT THEM PUBLICLY. Sheesh. Here’s a preview:
Yup, cheesy poses and everything. (The idea here was that I was tired from working so hard all day in the kitchen. Of course.)
But let’s not get into that right now. I’d rather tell you about how the house-mates and I spontaneously decided to go to the little English-flavoured (see what I did there?) bar down the street after dinner.
The waiter was super attendant (probably the first time he’s had four young foreign girls in there) and brought us lots of freebies. Like this meat-dip (for lack of a better word) with bread:
…and this drink with four black bendy-straws in it (pamplemousse + rosé):
…aaaaand these glow-stick bracelets. Which he bestowed upon us as a parting gift:
I think he wanted us to come back soon.
I think I will.
(Also: When I suggested that we go out for drinks–yes, of course, it was I who suggested it–Elizabeth said that I was like the older sister, and that she’d always wanted an older sister. I didn’t even feel old about her sentiment, just flattered. She also said the other night that she thinks I’d make a good teacher, that I seem like a teacher. It’s nice going out with my house-mates–somewhere between chaperoning and just hanging out. It’s nice going for long runs through botanical gardens. It’s nice practicing every night. It’s nice here. I like it.)
I kind of don’t want to go home…