Our school in Nice is lovely. In an old creaky building with bright colors and lots of light, the classes are small and helpful and fun. Well, fun after coffee. School starts at a painful 8:45am and they really do want you to be there on time, its doesn’t matter if you are on vacation. Espresso in the morning becomes less of an indulgence and more of a necessity. The reminder that I suck at French is cheerily there every morning, but I don’t mind too much, everyone knows I came for the food.
The people in the class are from all over the place. We got Mexico, we got Ireland we got South Korea, we got Germany, we got (gasp) WISCONSIN. It was a great group really, and I miss the accents in the class that were worse than my own. Met some very good people there...Zoe, who I’m pretty sure is a supermodel/pop star/painter or something, posing as a chemist, and Claudia, an international heart-breaker looking for EU citizenship who speaks 3 languages better than I speak english.
After morning classes, walk to Boulangerie Sophie where we get something with butter and chocolate in it, and probably a quiche, then there is nap time for JJ, then lunch time when we eat the rest of the bakery stuff and I try to trick JJ into eating veggies, then beach time. School is le hard.
A usual day has dinner in Vielle Ville, the Old Town, or sandwich a la Cait and a cold 1664 (beer) at one of the bars on Rue Jean Medicin while watching France embarrass themselves on a worldwide stage. Watching Mexico BEAT FRANCE made me miss Tucson even more.
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