Les Marchés de Noël, Toulouse, France

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My clearest memories of high school French class are not of writing verb conjugation after verb conjugation on the black board. Instead, they are of the annual Christmas carol day when we would take a break from memorizing the textbook and listen to French Christmas carols. Of these, the clearest in my memories is << La Légende de Saint Nicolas >> (“The Legend of Saint Nicholas.”) This was not the tale of Jolly Old Saint Nick, mind you, but a morbid story that started innocently enough with three young children in a field. Soon, darkness falls, and they seek shelter in the home of a butcher who, as these things always go, is evil and who chops them up and puts them into a tub to brine. Read More »

La Ville Rose, France

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La ville rose. The pink city. Could any town have a more romantic nickname than Toulouse? Living in Toulouse from October to January of last year was an architecture dream with ancient houses, shops, and hotels side-by-side, their facades covered in pink-hued terracotta brick exteriors who catch the late-afternoon sun with such beauty, their rose hues offset by shutters in mediterranean blues and greens.Read More »

Pyrenees, France

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This time last year was rough. The European dream was, honestly, not going as wonderfully as we had hoped. We had traveled so much we’d exhausted ourselves. We were nearly homeless on more than one occasion. We had lived in an apartment with cockroaches, used so much cockroach spray on them and our kitchen countertops we became ill, and, still, they continued to sneak back into the house every night in droves. Read More »