Vienne

I know it's injuste (en-joost: unfair) and puéril (pu-eer-eel: childish), but for the past few weeks I've been getting that sneaking suspicion that every single person in France has a more exciting life than me. A bit injuste because I realize it's unrealistic to expect myself to have met a gaggle of friends all over the French countryside to do things with, and puéril because, let's be honest, it's a bit immature not to realize that everyone leads a pretty pathetic life from time to time, even if you are French. Still, I can’t help but have the feeling that, while I’m holed up in my room, everyone else in town is busy getting wasted and having the time of their life.

As tough as it is to come to terms with, I have no friends in France who will whisk me off to an amazing Halloween party on a moment’s notice, or invite me on a vacation to their family villa in Monaco. So, I've decided that until I meet these fabulous friends, I have to be my own party. And this party started yesterday: a party of one in Vienne for Halloween. Jaloux (jah-lo: jealous)?

Vienne is a town/city (not quite sure if it's big enough to earn "city" status) just slightly sud (s-ood: south) of Lyon, filled with Roman ruins and quaint street markets. I spent the day walking along the Quai du Rhône (qu-ay duh roh-n: the banks of the Rhône River), sipping espresso in cafés, and sightseeing until I was literally blue in the face (though the blue face was probably more from that damn cold fog).

Of course, what would a day full of French adventure be without having to run after the last bus back home screaming "Wait! Stop!" in English? I practically had to knock the bus' door down while it was stopped at a red light on its way out of town, only to be ridiculed by the bus driver - in French - for 15 minutes. Oh oui, j’ai fait ça (oh wee, jay fay sah: oh yes, I did that).