At one point, I must have turned old and boring because now, I actually like going to the museum.
Cours des 50 otages, a handful of migrants as well as local supporters were protesting against yet another eviction.
The juilletistes (neologism for people taking their holidays in July) are going back to work. Now it’s the aoûtiens’ turn to take time off.
It doesn’t rain in Nantes—or rather, few locals just say “il pleut” when they see water falling from the sky.
It’s been six years that every time I go to Nantes in July or August, the first thing I notice is the annual art festival with installations scattered throughout the city.
At 9:30 p.m., watching a Celtic circle dancing the An Dro in the public square in front of Saint-Michel’s lighthouse, I realized I had the most cliché French day ever.
“I don’t have my driver’s licence either. I didn’t take anything with me,” my dad admits. “Papa! Okay, let me speak.”
I freaked out when 24 hours before flying to France, Feng suggested—apparently, it was just a suggestion—we should travel without Mark’s Chicco stroller.
Not all fountains are clean and I don’t recommend taking a dip with your swimsuit on, especially if you’re older than ten (you will draw strange looks from locals).
On Monday morning, at 9 a.m., the infamous French CRS (“Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité”), the French national police force specializing in crowd and riot control, swarmed into square Daviais.
Last Sunday, just seven days ago, France was winning the 2018 FIFA World Cup after beating Croatia 4-2 in the final.
It didn’t take me long to see one major difference in Nantes compared to last year.
“Are we in France, already?”
We walk by a couple kissing passionately outside the departure hall, in front of gate 12.
So, what did I buy in France this year?
“If my bag is searched, expect delays. I took the LEGO boat and car and the diabolo.”
Mood? Confused, as it usually is before a transition. It’s time for us to go back to Canada.
France is sobering up after two months where the country was unofficially on pause.
When you walk around the city a lot, you overhear conversations… including these puzzling, awkward and cringe-worthy moments!
French may hold a cigarette or an umbrella when strolling the streets but they sit down to eat or drink.
Even when I had both free time and freedom—basically between 12 and 18 years old—I rarely ventured outside the city centre.
I kind of like the French philosophy, a mix of hedonism and fatalism. People are aware of terrorist threats but they carry on.
On a sunny evening like this, the touristic, hipster atmosphere didn’t annoy me. I didn’t care. I wanted to have fun as well.
We got off at Penhoët, a destination so unusual that the train barely stopped and we had to ask the driver to keep the doors open a bit longer.