adventure in the great wide somewhere

Let’s be real: my twenty three years of life experience did not prepare me for finding housing, let alone housing in a foreign country. This is, of course, no surprise considering I went to Davidson, where students have to ask permission to live off campus (and even then, it’s pretty much a matter of choosing between two streets). Thus, the hunt for an apartment in Lannion was, for lack of better words, a big fat pain in the derrière. But it was! Past tense!

I am writing this from my apartment, y’all. From my very own chez moi. Well, not “my very own.” I’ve got a Spanish roommate named Roberto. And we don’t actually have internet yet so I’m posting this from a café with wi-fi. But things are actually falling into place, which is more than I could say two days ago. Forgive the cliché, but this week has been an emotional rollercoaster. Because in the midst of my frustration, anger, and pessimism, there was Lannion, which is so wonderfully picturesque it’s impossible to sustain any kind of negative emotion. I’m getting ahead of myself, though.

After several fruitless days of calling people with apartment listings in local newspapers and walking around town looking for “à louer” (to rent) signs in windows (the internet completely failed me), I actually had a choice to make between two places: a totally charming (read: endearingly small) studio in an old stone building right in the middle of the city, just outside of my budget but exactly what I’d imagined; and a large apartment on top of a hill several minutes by foot from the middle of the city, a total eyesore resembling a psychiatric ward from the outside.

Seems like an easy decision, right? The studio? Nope. I went with the latter. For one reason alone: money. It proved impossible to pass up an apartment for 110€ per month (versus 250€ + electricity + cost of furnishing the kitchen, as there were no dishes). I tried so hard to justify spending more than twice as much money on something much smaller but infinitely quainter, but just couldn’t do it. I’m sure I’ll get over it soon, but calling the landlord to tell him I’d found something else certainly tugged on my heartstrings a little. I’ll make the most of the new digs, though, and now I won’t feel guilty about spending a little money to spruce it up a bit, make it feel less like an institution and more like a home! I’m even fixin’ to buy a plant. And a pillow.

Now instead of writing about everything I’ve seen and done since my arrival in Lannion, here’s a summary of my week in pictures. (Aforementioned frustration, anger, and pessimism not included, as they no longer exist as of 10:00 this morning.) (Pictures of my three days in Paris also not included.) (Pictures of my apartment will be posted forthwith.) (Something about blogging makes me cuckoo for parenthetical statements!)

(Cafe les Valseuses, a bar I went to the other night with the guy who let me Couch Surf chez lui all week. We sat out back, where there are picnic tables and plastic chairs, and we just sat there talking and looking at the stars. Unreal.)

(Les escaliers de Brelevenez)

(Just another charming French street)

(And another medieval church...)

(A door on my street)

(Karen, a friend from Davidson and fellow assistant came to visit! She's been placed in Guingamp, a small town twenty minutes by train from here.)

(It may be October, but there are flowers in bloom everywhere)

(Me! In front of le Leguer, the river that passes through Lannion. Keep walking along it for a few kilometers and you hit the sea)