I. and I first met in Cuenca, Ecuador, where we had a dang good time together: trying new fruits and snacks in the markets, visiting the local “spa” (with its lukewarm swimming pool and half-heartedly steamy sauna), and chattering away in Spanish over teas and soups like two old long-lost amiguitas del alma. We reunited months later in Paris, over a cheap lunch in the cafeteria of the Colegio de Espana at La Cite Universitaire, and made plans to hang out again in her city, Agen. We ended up meeting in nearby Bordeaux, where we explored the city on rental bikes – fueled by couscous, mint tea, and ice cream.
We arranged a carshare to her place in Agen (my first covoiturage, also known as blablacar in the UK and Spain) where I learned that canned duck is delicious. She showed me the sleepy city and the second longest aquaduct in France before suggesting that we stop by her favorite bakery to get a cake (to bring to dinner with her friends later that evening) and a couple of extra pastries that we could take back to her house for “el té de las cinco, como dos viejitas” (five o’clock tea, like two little old ladies). Getting old seems pretty ok to me.
More food and friends HERE.