Battling Paris' peak-hour traffic is no joke, and our supposed six-hour drive to Guethary took us almost nine hours, with an awesome 40-minute kebab dinner stop in Tours along the way.
The next day was spent on the beach, recuperating from the previous night's drive. And it was here that I saw crazy waves, much bigger than those in Goa, which I already thought were pretty huge. Sentosa's choppy waters pale in comparison. I went into the freezing cold waters and barely had time to breathe between the sweeping waves. Sheesh. How am I ever going to learn to surf?
Sunset shots on the balcony: Carol and Loic; Berty and I, and the real couple fresh out of the closet.
B and I stole away for a stroll in the village, eating Magnum ice-cream and watching the sunset.
Back at the flat, the real fun started after our barbeque dinner. I was introduced to a new dice drinking game. The objective basically was to get very drunk, which Ben and Nicolas (second picture) did. That's Ben the happy drunk, dancing.
After we were well-lubricated with alcohol in our systems, we drove down to nearby Biarritz for a party on the beach. It was extremely packed with lots of dancing, beer spilling and oodles of fun.
At 5:45 a.m. that very morning, Romain and Marine arrived in Guethary from a party train. I was so exhausted that I didn't register anything when B told me that Laurent was going to drive him to pick them up. Instead, I pulled myself out of bed five minutes later, washed up and realized that they had left. So I went back to bed with toothpaste breath. Haha.
Despite the sunburns, we spent the morning at the beach again, before heading down to neighboring St. Jean de Luz for some window-shopping and more beaching. Waves were almost non-existent at this colorful beach, so we happily plunged in to swim despite the cold.
Carrying my favourite Indian memories to France.
The drinking games continued that night, against an unreal sunset backdrop. The person wearing my Indian hat has to drink each time the dice shows a three.
A tipsy Romain and happy Ben.
We spent the night in San Sebastian, Spain, dancing the morning away in a club. The guys told us girls (all three of us were first-timers in the region) that it was a beach bar and to dress down, so imagine our surprise when all we saw were Spanish senoritas dressed in sexy figure hugging dresses. And there we were in linen pants, shorts and flip flops. We may have continued till sunrise but B had a missing-wallet scare. He recovered it, minus 80 euros. Still, it was almost 7 a.m. when we got back to the flat, and a very drunk B was out cold in minutes.
Last shots of the surf. It's a little surreal for me, because back in MICA in February when we were just friends, B was showing me the pictures and telling me "you have to visit one day". In my heart I was thinking "yeah right!" but here I am taking these very shots.
That's B with his mates Laurent and Nicolas in the last picture.
Our last day in Guethary started only at noon, and after clearing up the mess we've made over the past few days, we set off on the drive towards Saint-Émilion, a quaint, small town near Bordeaux famous for its wine.
Click on the blackboard to enlarge: It says "English spoken, with a French accent!!!"
They ship all over the world: See the Singapore flag at the bottom? I was oddly cheered and patriotic. Haha.
We settled for an early dinner and wine at one of the alfresco cafes. I made the mistake of munching on cookies on the drive there, and couldn't quite fully enjoy my croque-monsieur and floating island dessert. But I was glad I had a chance to try the dessert I'd seen on tv before coming to France - fluffy egg whites floating on vanilla sauce. It was floaty and light, but not something I'd crave on regular occasions I believe.
They had me do the first tasting of the wine. That's me, smothering a laugh and acting as if I knew what I was tasting when I said "Bon, bon." That means good. Haha. Thankfully it was.
We walked off the dinner, popping in and out of wine shops.
The gang, minus Loic and Caroline who'd left for Lyon. (l-r): Nicolas, Laurent, me, Berty, Romain, Marine, Ben.
Presenting France's latest boyband.
clockwise from left: one of many churches; wine corks; I stuck the flower Nicolas gave me in my Indian hat; baby grapes in the vineyard.
Sunburnt and satiated, it was time for the drive back home in Nicolas' car.
"Sunday, 29 June 2008
20:55 hrs
Nicolas' car, enroute to Paris
Long car rides. Endless blue skies and yellow-gold sunshine. Late mornings and alcohol-fueled
nights. Blushing-pink sunburns and heedless dancing with a flower in my hair.
The past three days in the quaint French seaside town have passed by in a heady blur, and as we speed past the sunkissed vineyards in Nicolas' car, I can't help thinking for the umpteenth time of late, that this is possibly the best summer of my life thus far.
I've had my fair share of apprehension about this long weekend with B's friends. We've met only fleetingly before, and I was half-prepared for a time-crawling trip of language barriers and awkward smiles. Yet, although understanding one another sometimes requires repeating and rephrasing our thoughts, some time between the drinking games and navigating party crowds, I've fallen in love with all of them, almost as quickly and naturally as I've fallen in love with B.
There's the giant Nicolas, tall and warm with a sharp sense of humor I love; kind and clownish Ben who taught the clumsy me how to rock and roll; Laurent (better known as Bounty - black on the outside and white inside), a little quiet and an awesome dancer; B's best friend Loic who's perpetually smiling and ready to party; and Loic's girlfriend Caroline whom I feel makes him a very blessed man.
There are still times when I'm struck by how surreal it is to be here traveling France, and I'm almost immediately gripped by how blessed I am to be living these experiences many can only daydream of.
Strolling along the Champs-Élysées and nibbling on Laduree macarons in the summer sunshine. Visiting wine cellars and drinking bubbly in champagne, and seeing and touching endless rows of vineyards reminiscent of the scene's in Russell Crowe's A Good Life. Tasting authentic French cuisine like raclette, cheese fondue, andouliette and floating island - dishes I've previously only seen in cookbooks and travelogues. Dancing because I want to and not giving a toss as to how I move, and seeing Mont Blanc and the snow-capped French Alps while breathing in the cool mountain air. Meeting old friends, and finding myself entwined in a circle of new-found ones. And through it all a daydream I've long forgotten to indulge in: snuggling up to a warm body, and sharing suppers and easy laughter with a man whom I love for who he is as much as for the person I am when I'm with him.
It's almost like I've barely lived life at all until France and its people woke me up this summer, to really teach me how to be young and to live life by its reins. And even though I'll be returning home in less than two weeks with a very empty wallet, I know that the memories of this sun-drenched summer would be worth every single cent."
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