I see France

I've been in the habit of crossing borders lately.

Two weekends ago, five of us rented a car and drove to the first town in France after you leave Italy.

Meet Menton.

Unbelieveably cute and charming; its full of chocolate pastries, beautiful flowers and great shopping.

Its funny that driving four hours can allow you to feel so far removed from normal life.
Kinda like driving from Dallas to Austin. It is only four hours, but they are world's apart.


Our only mission for the weekend was to relax.
Matt, Mel, Emily and (the other) Sarah were wonderful road trip buddies.
After some great retail therapy, quality beach time, and a weekend with these four--my heart was full.

We ate pain au chocolat and yummy crepes and drank cafe ole twice a day.

I was so proud of myself for using "oui" and "merci" all weekend.
And I sound so French when I mush it all together.
I patterned my speech after the chef on Little Mermaid.
"Hee hee hee, honh honh hohn"

Menton really won me over.
The residential part of the town is like an uphill maze, every corner an adorable surprise.
I mean, can I please live here?


On the second day we drove to Monaco.
You know: Grace Kelly, Monte-carlo, etc.
Well, I can see how it would be great if you married a prince and everything, but with out that Monaco was a total bust.
The only exciting part was Emily unintentially driving across the finish line of the Monte-carlo grand prix track.

You can't make stuff like that up, people.

When we got back to Menton, we happened across heaven on earth.
Now all those Anthropologie lovers out there, or anyone who really likes my taste in things pay attention here.
This word will bring you much pleasure in your French travels:


It basically means "stuff."
Old stuff. VIntage, Grandma's attic.
But seriously, the Brocante store we found was the coolest European grandma's attic of all time.
I think we all gasped when we walked in.
Even Matt.

There was amazing stuff everywhere you looked.
Ceiling, floor, outside, inside, on the stairs, in the corners.
It was glorious.
I wanted to hide out and have them lock the doors on me so I could keep looking around.
Maybe not all of you will understand this feeling, but I'm telling you--it was intense happiness.
We all walked out, bags in hand, and didn't talk for a while.
We were in a pleasure coma and we wanted to stay in it.


Merci beaucoup, Frane!
Until we meet again.

Now, for those of you who follow this blog, you may be wondering about my next blog.
You've read I see London, and I see France...
Don't get freaked out: There will be nothing about underpants in the next post.

It was total coincidence that I took these two trips back to back.
I just wanted to dispel any rumors that I was going to write about underwear.
Sorry to disappoint some of you (Claire).