I went to France this weekend to hobnob with fancy Americans on a cruise. "Exciting" things happened: I gave a three-minute speech that unfortunately consumed way too much of my worry and thought, I met interesting people with interesting stories, toured a huge castle from the seventh century, I pondered the American and Portuguese cultural differences and the pros and cons of each, etc.
|Mont Saint-Michel, fancy castle in Normandy|
|Ballerina on a moving piano at the Eiffel Tower|
(ze French are a bit strange sometimes...)
Yet the "exciting" things weren't really that exciting. The three of us that went were kind of sad and smooched our own arms while missing our loved ones at the Eiffel Tower. We got yelled at by a french waitress when trying to order food and I felt like crying. We didn't really feel like site seeing and just left early to go to the house we would be staying at. The whole reason of the trip, my three-minute speech, wasn't bad and wasn't remarkable. It just was. The hobnobbing was pretty overwhelming.
The truly exciting thing was the brotherhood and communion with the two friends I went with. The jokes, the silliness, the heart-to-heart talks. Being able to be myself and TRULY feel loved FOR that. The small moments and the meals. The movie on the flight back making me cry like a baby and that being okay.
|The best part of the trip: the people|
|2nd best part: a french family generously offering their house|
for us to stay at and the simple dinner and breakfast on their patio
|Love the heart-shaped cheese|