We're still planning on moving from this city to another city in France a few hundred miles away. As we originally ran into a terrible time for apartment hunting we're now waiting until late in the Summer season to resume our search. In the meantime, here we are.
Do we hate it here?
Omg no!
For instance, after a long day of paperwork we wandered out to the old town of the city. It was crammed with people, mostly from other places all over the world, and they were as fascinating as ever. We sat in maybe the old town's prettiest square, in front of maybe its prettiest church. We had a spritz and a prosecco, a buckwheat crepe with lemon and sugar, and panisse frites. We watched everything going by, and we talked.
Above us, on the square, was an apartment that was advertised when we were looking for an apartment here, way back when. We tried to move there, but like most listed places, they weren't interested in us as tenants, what with our lack of French history and foreign status. Pleasantly (though very mildly) drunk, I got a bit wistful looking up at the fascinating 300 year old apartments there.
"I can't imagnine wanting to leave had we lived up there." I said in a moment of glow. The evening had turned mild. Some Brazilians set up to make some music and do backflips or something for tips.
The church next to us had a big plaque commemorating the local dead of WWI. There were about 40 names which didn't seem like that many. Maybe it seemed like a lot to the guy chiseling the names into that stone? Maybe it seemed like a lot to someone who knew most of them.
Probably.
We walked down through the dinner hour to the beach. Old town seemed impossibly full of tables of people dining. Some of those pizzas looked really good.
We walked home along the beach. What a lovely night!
Ask me again.
Do we hate it here?
Weirdly, for no good reason, and definitely very rarely, but,
Sure, why not?
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