“Can’t you see it?” she asked me. “It’s Leonardo Da Vinci’s tiny French commune.” “I’ve been walking for like an hour and I’m exhausted. I’m going to sit on this bench over here for about two days,” I told my ephemeral guide. “Perfect. Right over there. Nope, one more bench over. There, you got it.”…
Preparation for my upcoming trip was littered with travel expectations and extensive, more like obsessive, planning. France owned me. The kids made it clear they were over it. “All you think about and talk about is France,” my oldest repeated, deservedly irritated with a lack of parental attention. “What will you do when you don’t have…
I’ve been circling around this concept of slow travel a lot lately. It’s not shocking to anyone who has spent literally even one day with me that I am a bit of a doer. Chilling is not my thing. I’ve got lists and then lists for the lists. I survive on accomplishment alone. It’s my…
Ah, the plight of a Canadian in France. This past Tuesday marked 90 days until I leave. “Three months!” most people say. “You must chill!” “Only three months!” I tell them. “So much to do.” Bring on a wee bit of dramatic arc because, well . . . Our heroine continues to plan her solitary…