Well first I have to say that the trip getting here was probably the longest I've ever endured. About 38 hours door to door. But 3 flights and 2 train rides later I finally arrived at my mother's house here in the French countryside (aka the asshole of nowhere), just in time for Christmas Eve dinner and drinks. I even impressed myself by staying up until well past midnight and opening a few gifts before having to go up to my room and collapse.
Probably the part of my trip that you would all enjoy hearing about most would be the point where I totally thought I was getting checked out while I was standing in a line at Heathrow. Seriously, I had a certified hottie look me up and down from head to toe. And just when I was a little too impressed at getting checked out after some 24 hours of traveling, said person pointed at my feet and says "Um...is that yours?" Looked down and one of my freaking passports was lying on the ground. Damn, I am such a smooth operator sometimes.
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So far though, this place is just as relaxing as I remember. I've spent all of my time sleeping, eating, drinking and reading, and even took a nice walk along the cliffs nearby with the family. How very wholesome.
Of course now there are about 40 people beginning to descend on our house for my mother's annual Boxing Day event. This means there will be mostly people who either barely speak English or don't speak it at all surrounding me on all sides. The trick will be to drink just enough that I am relaxed about speaking my basic French to our guests. The more probable outcome is that I will drink so much that I will start slurring in Swahili and then get confused as to why people won't talk to me anymore. Wish me luck.