Before I start unloading about the ups and downs of being a broad abroad…
I would like to take you to where it all began,
Going to a place called Cannes!
Brand new, unused, passport in hand,
Horrifyingly American Jack Rogers on feet,
One Professor Glacet is who I was going to meet,
Leaving the country for the first time was quite the feat!
Thinkin’ I was real Frenchy and all,
I exclaimed something along the lines of, “Bonjour, y’all!”
Yes, that might have been the start of my down fall…
Let’s hope for the sake of the
readers reader–HEY MOM!–that this is the first and last time I get poetic, because, you know, it would be pathetic, if I made a reoccurring theme of using an AAA BBB CCC rhyme scheme…just kidding…but really.
Anyway, my summer on the French Riviera was très magnifique. I got the chance to attend a few movie premieres at the film festival, lived with the most badass 83-year-old widow you’ll ever meet–Shout out to Madame Clermont (in case she ever gets a computer) SUP WOMAN!–went kayaking in the Mediterranean, performed karaoke on several occasions (the French just couldn’t get enough!), caught a boat to Corsica, hit up Rome, Nice, Monte-Carlo, and–my favorite–ST. TROPEZ, and made awesome friends.