The wine here, I think they sprinkle magic pixie dust into it to make it flawless. The cheese? pa-lease! No need to explain that one. And lest we not forget the pastas and grains in this place. Fresh baked bread and perfectly pressed pasta calling my name and claiming it's home securely on my hips.
France, I'm a sucker and you are gettin' me good.
So we've settled that the food is gorg and all but what's the real gold in traveling? I'd make the plea that it's ironically the same gold that every place possesses.. its people.
We don't know a lick of french and it's actually pathetic. I've found french to be a stunning language and even try to prep what I'm going to say each time before we go out. Sadly, as soon as I'm face to face with the chance I forget that having a true conversation would mean me also understanding what THEY'RE saying (naturally). Then you do that stupid thing where you revert back to just speaking english and oh how the eye rolls follow but can I just tell you that one of my most favorite moments was also one of my most embarrassing? Which, if you know me at all, you know this is the exact opposite of how I equate a favorite moment in my mind.
We're staying in a quant village called Gignac. The streets are straight up from every stereotypical scene of France you could imagine in your mind only better by tens of thousands. We're having a stroll around our neighborhood and like overly obvious tourists we're taking photos of doors and floors galore. I walk by this precious elderly lady, who sees Dustin taking photos which to her, are of absolutely nothing. She then, matching up only barely past my shoulders, grabs me, hugs me by the side and says some paragraph in french, giggling and smiling fields wide. I wanted nothing more than to participate in return but cowardly I chose to nod my head as engagingly as possible in a desperate attempt to pull off understanding her. She was so friendly, so warm and we were sharing such a sweet moment that I couldn't sober it dry by acknowledging the language barrier when in all actuality she was speaking ever so clearly.
They say actions speak louder than words and I'd even protest that actions speak louder than languages. We've had our fair share of confusion even trying to understand certain phrases from our friends in England but what we never have failed to interpret is a smile, a passing nod, a warm and impressing comical hug. Sure, the tastes and spirits here are divine but when you see kids playing football down a side alley way, you meet a shop owner who helps you pick out a small christmas plant that will soon die anyway or you exchange an embrace with a innocently trusting and utterly precious elderly soul you realize once again that the gold in every place, in every state, country and continent, is indeed it's people.
So Merry Christmas to all you people! It's you that makes this world shine like gold. You being you, enjoying a moment with some stranger could change their entire experience of a place. It doesn't have to be for two crazy tourists either. Let it be a mutual late night grocery store shopper, a fellow dog lover at the park, an old colleague, that person who you know takes the same train as you everyday but that you've never spoken to. I want to make other people feel and remember what that little old lady made me feel and remember on that day. I want to make other people feel like gold.
Because what do you get when you add gold to gold?
You get rich.
And in the words of my brother-from-another-mother Mr. 50 Cent..
"Get rich or die trying"
Word, fitt-y, word. ||
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