Well, you would think that we would have learned by now that we just need to bring a little tiny suitcase with 2 pairs of jeans, 2 tops, 2 braws, and 2 pairs of undies--one pair of shoes. You should have seen us with our 25 inch suitcases, our back packs, and our purses. Of course, we had to lug everything down the stairs to go under the tracks. Then there are the narrow aisles. In fact, we could very well have missed our train to Beaune. We had to change at Dijon, and we were told that the train was 10 minutes late. We stood waiting for the train on the tracks to move and the late one to come. Finially, I went over to a man in an SNCF uniform and asked him "Comment est-ce on va savoir le vrai train a Beaune?" (How will one know which is the train to Beaune.) He told me that the one on the track was the train. Then we had to drag our luggage up onto the train and try to find a seat. We were exhausted. Then when we finally arrived in Beaune, we had to drag the damn things down the stairs under the tracks again. Fortunately, our landlord was waiting for us with a sign with both our names written on it. Eunice had asked me what did I suppose he would look like when we were almost here, and i told her that he might be anywhere from Frederico (Our Italian landlord that we were both in love with. I think I mentioned that before. Unfortunatly he was married and we're old :-( )!) Now I'll finish my sentence--between Frederico and the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Actually, he seems very nice, but we've not fallen in love with him yet.
Can anyone tell that I'm feeling kind of kooky? Eunice is taking a photo of our dinner--if youcould call it that. The landlord told us that the super market is closed already. Since we had a large lunch at the Gare de Lyon, we don't want to go to another restaurant tonight, so we're eating what we brought from Paris: a few pieces of crackers, a bit of goat cheese, 1/2 an orange each and 1/2 a banana each--with the bottle of wine that the landlord left. So, that's all for tonight. It is 6:50 p.m. here and 11:50 a.m. CST,
Can anyone tell that I'm feeling kind of kooky? Eunice is taking a photo of our dinner--if youcould call it that. The landlord told us that the super market is closed already. Since we had a large lunch at the Gare de Lyon, we don't want to go to another restaurant tonight, so we're eating what we brought from Paris: a few pieces of crackers, a bit of goat cheese, 1/2 an orange each and 1/2 a banana each--with the bottle of wine that the landlord left. So, that's all for tonight. It is 6:50 p.m. here and 11:50 a.m. CST,
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