“The fact that we call them and know them only by first name, points to the strange intimacy of road tripping with strangers.
Do you sit in the front or the back? Should you sleep or maintain polite conversation? How likely is it that you and your conducteur will be belting out show tunes and exchanging emails by the end of the ride?” Continue reading stranger things: the hitchhiker’s guide to the auvergne
I used to walk down the street terrified someone would talk to me, and lemme tell you: that is a tiring way to live. Whether it was shyness about my accent or the fear of looking someone in the eyes and understanding absolutely nothing they were saying, in France I largely kept to myself. Though I loved speaking French, I only really spoke French with friends, … Continue reading not a french girl
Maybe we’d get there, to this dusty abandoned hamlet where I’d have a herd of sheep for company, and I’d have to beg Stéphane to let me back in the car. Have mercy! I’d cry, or its rough French equivalent. Continue reading goats & grapes: I make it to montluçon