Au revoir et Merci, Tours

My two weeks in Tours were perfect to orient myself (orient can have so many meanings here: orientation…make myself more “Oriental” if you know what I mean). I discovered “tartelettes” and how much less guilty I feel eating them because they have fruit in them, I met some great friends who I snapchat (soulchat) with constantly, and I’ve already become so much more comfortable speaking French.

My friends and I also found love in a hopeless place (hopeless because it was in the last two days and hopeless in maintaining unclogged arteries), Carrefour, a little French market where we would buy cheese, salami, saucissons, prosciutto, boursin, chocolate biscuits, nutella, and olives (YES OLIVES MARG), for lunchtime picnics.

Tours got a little small for me, but I know that by the time my time in France is over, I’ll be missing the nights in Place Plume and at La Guinguette, the nights when men would bow to me and babble “Ting tong wing won nihao”, the nights when we would eat crepes with ham and gruyère, the afternoons spent café-hopping, the nights watching middle-aged women dance better than I ever will be able to, and the walks home along the Pont Suspendu, just over the Loire River.


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