I saw a French chicken cross the road...and other musings.

Bonjour, toute le monde.

Just thought I would give an update: I've returned from France and am already homesick for it. A friend of mine wrote the other day about the UK, that she has a "longing, for a little set of isles I've yearned to visit since I was a wee girl; a place on which I've never set foot but somehow feels like Home."  I feel similarly about France...though I didn't spend a lot of time there, it is home.  

Anyway, one horrible thing about France is the Charles De Gaul airport~I was stuck there for three hours because our plane was late.  Not only was I stuck there, but apparently an efficient security system is completely beyond their realm of comprehension.  In the States, there might be two large lines and then ten or fifteen security checks for people to go through.  At the Paris airport, there's just a mass of people waiting to go through two security check points.  The worst part, though, is that once you actually get through the security checkpoint, there is only one snack bar for the entire terminal, with just one person behind the counter.  I think that was one of the only times I muttered, "This is so typically French" and meant it in a completely negative way.    

I am now home safe and sound, luggage intact, and was only awake for 28 hours straight on my travel "day."  I posted  a few new photos (of my host family and some friends) at the end of this album.

Now to a few days of doing what I love: reading books (currently The Code of the Woosters and Economic Policy), newspapers, laughing with my family, cooking, catching up with friends, and listening to my latest favorite song, by an Aussie band.  

One last funny anecdote: on the way to Fletcher's house this week, a chicken crossed the road. This was funny for three reasons.  First, it was the only chicken I've ever seen cross a road. Second, at lunch one day, we all had been reading The Book of General Ignorance, in which we learned that a chicken with its head cut off can live (and thrive) for five years. Finally, I found myself actually wondering (before I thought about the joke) why it crossed the road.  I mean, really, why would a chicken ever need to cross a road? 

The other day I read (in the Book of General Ignorance) the best quote by Lord Keynes: "My only regret in life is that I did not drink more champagne."

Until the next time, 

Marguerite. 

"Falling" by Macalmont and Butler.