Day Eleven - Saturday

I went to work on Saturday, but since the festival was basically over by then, there were almost no customers at the pavilion. So I lounged out on the beach right by the pavilion for pretty much the entire day, hanging out with friends and at one point, taking a deliciously long nap with the gently-lapping waves as my lullaby.

EVENING

Later that evening, my friends and I went out to a nice dinner (since we’d been eating baguette sandwiches on the go for the last week and a half straight and wanted a change). We walked up this super narrow, rather steep winding street by the bus stop (the same street that leads up to the castle) lined with small romantic restaurants. There were eighteen of us in the group, and the deciding factor on choosing from one of the many was that we finally found a place that had eighteen available spots.

Dinner was fun. It’s always fun to get to hang out with friends and talk about the festival. Also, I decided that I needed to order a traditional French dish, so I ordered frog legs in a cream sauce. It was delicious (though, hating to sound cliché, it did taste like chicken).

NOTE ON THE FRENCH

French people hate it when you act too American. Be loud and obnoxious, and you are guaranteed to not get into anything-- bars, movies, or restaurants. My friends, bless their hearts, go turned away from the Debussy Theater (for the screening of Another Year) for acting too American (and for wearing beach shorts and flipflops--"Zees ees not the beach," they said). You know, I'd probably feel the same way too, if a bunch of rowdy foreign youngins came and tried to get into my respectable establishment.

And on the same note, French people (in the south of France) seem to love it when you try to speak French. Their appreciation and respect for you increases and they instantly treat you better the moment you crack out your textbook high school French.