if i hear nirvana in that bar one more time…

courtesy of beckles

courtesy of beckles

courtesy of beckles

evidently, blogging is not my forte.

it’s hard to keep up with, you know, these technologies. rather, i’m busy knitting or tasting becca’s baked delectables or drinking wine or pretending to be french. all quite time-consuming, indeed. especially the wine.

things are heating up here way across the sea. i mean that in the most literal sense, bien sûr. the weather finally seems to be improving. i no longer am forced to wait two weeks in hopes of seeing the sun for a few hours one afternoon. no, le soleil seems to be our friend these days. the warm weather, however, j’attends encore.

despite the cold, this weekend was lovely, truly. one might argue it to be the best yet. knitting, and wine, and piano, and and ping pong. my five-year-old host sister (pictured above) and i made signs for our french friend yoann (yoyo) to wave at his all-too-intense ping pong tournament this weekend. he is quite the player, vraiment. chinese dinner après was followed by a small game of kings (yes) at a bar downtown. although my stay in rennes has been entirely nice, it finally feels as if i have a strong holding here, with a small circle of friends i can count on to bring two-euro-a-bottle wine to every soirée and with whom i can most assuredly watch mulan on any saturday night. it’s a comforting feeling, indeed.

as the month quickly approaches, i am scurrying hurriedly to plan my two-week april vacation. despite knowing that most of my friends will be meeting in barcelona for the first several days of the break, i have tentatively decided to stray from the flock. if i do, in fact, carry out my own travel plans, i will first journey to prague to visit several friends, followed by krakow, poland, 45 kilometers and a four-euro bus ride away from auschwitz. for a good part of my life, i have had a dual fascination with most eastern european countries as well as with the holocaust. since the age of eight, i have read, researched, watched, listened, and learned about the holocaust, and i fear that if i do not visit a concentration camp during my stay in europe, i will be throwning away a nearly lifelong yearning to learn into my metaphorical french trash can.  however, satiating this thirst comes at a steep price: i will be traveling alone. in thinking about this, i ask myself several questions. have i ever traveled before? not really, no. alone? no, no. do i speak a lick of polish? absolutely not. do i have any idea what i am doing? on verra. however, i truly think it is important for me to take cousin Katie’s advice on solo traveling in europe : put your finger on a map, buy a ticket, and just go, go, go. on verra, on verra.

in the mean time, c’est l’heure de tricoter ces gants…

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