Living an absurd French fantasy? Who, me?

So just when I had finished my job, my face nice and sore from smiling encouragingly, just when we had finally finished the unaccountably difficult process of moving out of our apartment, and in short, just when I had been feeling good and ready to go home, Brianne and I left for two weeks of vacation in France and now I'm attached to Europe again. Our trips were so incredible that I'm going to have to subject you to a cruel number of photographs. If you're really a glutton for pain, you can go check out a slightly different selection on Brianne's blog here.

We started the vacation off right with a stop at EuroDisney in Paris with our Kiwi friend Juliette (see left) and her Russian boyfriend Dimitriy.

Next Brianne and I headed down to the south of France, where we explored little towns on the Cote d'Azur like this one (St Jean Cap Ferrat).

Then we took a ferry (much like this one) from Nice to the French island of Corsica...

...where we were amazed to find landscapes I didn't even know existed in the world. Above is a picture (you can just make out some snowy peaks) I took on our bus ride from Ajaccio to Bonifacio, where we camped with a Canadian, a Colombian, and a Brazilian whom we'd met along to way.

Here's a view of Bonifacio, our town, which is perched right on the edge of some spectacular limestone and granite cliffs.

The cliffs, with the famous Graine de Sable.


One day we took a morning boat tour to the Isles Lavezzi. The guides told us we had the option of waiting until the afternoon boat came to pick us up, and since Brianne and I (along with our Colombian and Brazilian friends) were the only ones to take them up on the offer, we had the whole island to ourselves for an afternoon. We scrambled around on rocks, through tide pools, and hung out on gorgeous beaches like the one above.

And when you have a private beach that magnificent, of course you have to go swimming, even if it's body-numbing cold water.

After a couple days in Bonifacio, we hitch-hiked (our first time!) back to Ajaccio and spent a day on the beach and in the food markets.

And our last night in Corsica, we decided we had better take advantage of our hotel room's little terrace and have a picnic of local foods: goat's cheese, bread, strawberries, spinach and onion pasties, a selection of olives, and a bottle of wine made by the half-American half-French winemaker who picked us up hitch-hiking. Words cannot describe.

And our second week of vacation was, if possible, even more ridiculous. Brianne and I, along with Juliette, Dimitriy, and two of Juliette's crazy Kiwi friends (Megan and Richard) rented the above chateau in rural Vendee.

Welcome to our dining room. Ridiculous enough for you?

What about some morning archery practice?

And adorable French neighbors who give you eggs straight out from under their chickens and ducks.

And deciding to amuse yourselves by filming a mockumentary about the history of the castle, complete with epic battle scenes

And for a final touch of absurdity, check out Puy du Fou, the ridiculous French "theme park" we visited, where we were treated to Viking, Gladiator, Middle Ages, and Muskateer battles set to the soundtrack of Pirates of the Caribbean.

And here's our crew (from left, Dimitriy, Juliette, me, Brianne, Megan, Richard). All in all an incredible bunch of goofballs to share a castle with for a week. I can't wait to hang out with them all again in New Zealand.

Now, post-vacation, I'm in Nantes for two and a half weeks without work and without permanent habitation. And because we're staying with the same friend whose apartment we shared at the beginning of the year, the strange limbo-like feeling of this transition period is even more pronounced. I can't really tell whether I should be getting excited about going home (which I am, of course), or feeling sad about leaving Europe for who-knows-how-long. A month ago I was ready for pancakes and Captain Sundae and all things familiar. Now after two weeks of incredible vacation the idea of going back to the United States for eight months is making me feel...frankly...a little claustrophobic. I have to remind myself that my plans for those months still involve a lot of adventuring, and more importantly a lot of the quality friend time that I've been missing for much of this year. And also I have to remind myself not to be an overly dramatic commitment phobe. But surely my series of contradictory posts about my changing plans for next year haven't given you the impression that I'm feeling non commital?

Someone really ought to give me a nice firm reality check.