With a happy hour in Pertuis, where my good buddy (who hosts me nearly every weekend in Aix, along with her flatmate Jenny) Amory works! Since Jenny, Anne, and I are bums/100% on Friday afternoon, we rolled up to Pertuis around 3 PM, catching a bus at the Gare Routiere (where the overly curious driver demanded all of our nationalities before we even opened our mouth to ask to buy tickets! Sometimes I think we just put off alien vibes), and showed up to take in the pretty Aixois countryside! Amory met us at the stop to walk us to their bar--she goes most Friday afternoons with two other language assistants who actually live in Pertuis, Rachel & Sam. Just as I thought to snap a cute group pic in front of the scene (see below)...
...I immediately stepped in dog poop. Twice. For the third time that week. A cute lil Frenchie I tutor 2x/week told me that in France, it's considered to be good luck. I told her that it was happening a little too frequently for my taste. Her response? "Maybe it only works for French people."
The stinky situation (pun absolument intended) caused me to abandon all thoughts of a photo--I just wanted a drink. TO THE BAR! We plunked ourselves down in the sunshine and ordered some vino, and soon the whole gang was there to partake & ogle the ADORABLE bartender, who speaks killer English and has a face like an angel.
Three glasses later, everyone was a bit giggly, and munchies set in. The day was moving too quickly (or we were just too completely stationary) so we made moves...to the bakery across the street.
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Club Tiny French town can't even handle us right now |
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| VICTORY! in the form of French baked goods and a smiley baker man |
Long story short, Pertuis was the opener for a grand weekend of too much wine and too little sleep, but lots of laughter. It was also the scene of the BEST impulse purchase in the world: a 10 LITER jug of wine; French families often buy big jugs of table wine like this to drink throughout the week, so really we were just embracing a key cultural
habitude. The lady is filling it in the picture below. His name was Junior. He lived...less than 24 hours, BUT HE WILL RISE AGAIN (next weekend?!).
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| My French boyfriend |
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| Amory's bus mate. Not much for conversation, but nice to look at. |
Apparently, the only lessons to be learned in all of this madness are the following: A) there is simply no such thing as "too much wine," and B) Buying wine in aggressively large quantities, while tough on the arms, is far more logical than buying a billion bottles. We may have found a companion for Junior, in the form of a three-liter box of Luberon rosé, also known as Lubie (See below).
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| Cute clutch, AmyBaby. |
LOVE.MONEY.PARTY.
