Pass the salt...

And yet again, Kenz and I are aboard another train. A train full of power outlets, comfortable seats, and few passengers, and you would think we were acting like royalty. It’s truly the simple pleasures in life when everything you own is on your back.  Since our last post, we have ended our time in Spain and begun our short visit in France.

San Sebastian was our last stop in Spain, and it had a special kind of charm that Kenz and I were drawn to the very moment we arrived. Between the short the bus ride and the apartment we were staying in, we quickly became enamored with the elegance and beauty of a city nestled in a cove on the Atlantic. Aside from the little rain we experienced, and Kenz getting hit by a wave (video to come), our time in this city was amazing. We stayed in an apartment with a man named Lander, who made our experience effortless. Whether it was a map pinpointing the best places to see, bringing us tea when we took some time to dry off, or providing us with books of the restaurant, Arzak, he made our time their easy and enjoyable. Our experience there was heightened, when Kenz had made a connection that reserved a table for a fully paid, sixteen-course meal at Arzak, the world’s second best restaurant. We managed to pull together our best ensembles, and were pleasantly surprised at how well we managed under the circumstances. The meal was exquisite. After the initial fear of speaking too loudly or pegging ourselves as being completely out of our element, we had an incredible time. With the food and wine pairings along with the sometimes over-the-top presentation of the food, we quickly realized that we would never encounter a meal quite like this in our lifetime.

After San Sebastian, we boarded another train, that we may almost missed had it not been for two employees that went above and beyond, (How is it possible that we didn’t meet a single mean Spaniard?) and we were quickly on our way to Périgueux. Upon arrival, Kenz notified me that the man we were looking for would appear to be a French Santa Claus. Lone behold, in the corner of our eye we spotted him, Luc. The jolliest and most pleasant man the world may possibly ever see. With his full beard and laugh that could light up a room, I knew our stay here would be pleasant and full of memories. After driving away from Perigueux we headed into the small village of Saint Paul. We arrived at their house where Charlotte welcomed us in with an amazing dinner paired with a warm fireplace and comfortable accommodations.  Within this first meal, I quickly realized the handicap I had not speaking in yet another country. Not once have I taken for granted the gift Kenz has in language. I often find myself feeling guilty and childlike, unable to help her carry the conversation or take the burden of answering and asking questions. I know without a doubt that this trip would be very different if it wasn’t for her and her willingness to carry the weight of speaking for two. It’s extremely humbling to sit at many a dinner table unable to share an opinion, story, or even express to a family how grateful you are for their time and hospitality. I learn a lot in the silence and observations, and from the perspective of a future teacher, in these short couple of weeks I have been here, I have a much softer heart for the trials and tribulations that come with English Language Learners, and what they have to deal with on a daily basis in the classroom.

I digress…

With this lovely and warm couple, we experienced hikes through the countryside, tours of towns that France has dubbed, “The most beautiful towns in the country,” and a picnic at the base of a castle. They truly went above and beyond what most hosts deem necessary to entertain a couple of homeless American travelers. Our goodbye consisted of tears, gifts of fossils, straws, a flask, and a container full of salt that all held a hilarious inside joke or memories that Kenz and I will truly cherish for years to come.

These first two weeks have been nothing short of amazing, and it only seems appropriate to end with the famous words of our dear friend Luc, “C’est Good!”