Holy crap, no one move: we woke up
this morning, and no one had stolen any
of our food! I was flying, angels were
crying, and pigs were singing or something like that.
Or, Why Not?! I will [raises right hand] faithfully chronicle my life living and working in France, as well as post any videos, recipes, and anecdotes that relate, even if I end up looking like an idiot. So help me, Cheesecake.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Day Ten: I Would Walk 500 Miles
Is it really worth it anymore to
complain that food got stolen? No? You’ve started taking it for granted? So have I.
(In case you were wondering, it was my yogurt.)
Today we dedicated to Petrín Hill
and the buildings we only wanted to see, so we steeled ourselves to walk clear
across the city to the bottom of Petrín Hill, and we traipsed merrily along for
about six blocks until Verity realized she had left her phone on her bed in the
hostel: big no-no, especially when yogurt and pears weren’t even safe (and I’m
putting away the bitter now). She
retraced her steps, promising to meet me at the funicular stop using public
transportation so that we would theoretically arrive in the same place at the same
time.
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