FINALLY I arrived in Metz... And no, I
was never able to make it there via the great beast of a vehicle that
I attempted to conquer. I feel that driving a Land Rover is a lesson
in confidence and trust... And driving one in France even more so...
You do not question your actions, your worth, or your power. Instead,
you sally forth with your ambition and you let it ride. While I never
defeated the challenge of parking this monster, I do feel that I
learned a very real lesson in accomplishment. Still, figuring out
public transportation in a French suburb amounts to its own sort of
challenge, one that I happily fought and won... Metz is a beautiful
city, filled with golden architecture, glowing like the sun. Amongst
my many adventures that day, I engaged in my first solo French
afternoon meal, pictures below. It was delicious, indulgent, and I
conducted the entire exchange in French, something I am, yes, very
proud of. However, just as one moment brought to light the education
of this fair-headed maiden, another moment caused me to live up to
the astounding stereotype of a clueless blonde... I consider myself a
pretty intelligent person, but my blonde moments sometimes astound
even myself... For example, my siblings in particular love this
story... Just a few weeks ago it finally dawned on me why a slotted
spoon is in fact called a slotted spoon. For years I would hear the
name, particularly evoking thoughts of the musical “Into The
Woods”, and I took it for granted that a slotted spoon meant that
it was broken, old, antiquated... Definitely not because it has
slots... A slotted spoon is called so because it has slots... Duh...
But while lounging in the late afternoon sun of Metz, I tried to put
my new phone case on my new mobile phone, and after 10 minutes of
frustration and thinking I would have to go back to the store, I
realized that you have to take the original case OFF before putting
the new case ON... I repeat... DUH... I leave you with pictures of
this quaint little metropolis...
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