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(This is a continuation of my travel journal from
Provence. Please start there for the complete
story, and full entertainment value. If you've already read that, stay here.
You're in the right place.)
When I got to Cannes, I spent an entire day on the beach reading. That's
the first time I'd done that in years. I decided to pamper myself and
I got the most expensive hotel on the strip (in exchange for sending them
lovely photos of it later). What the hell: I live recklessly. (Sometimes I
even drink milk right out of the carton with the fridge door open.)
I met some really interesting French natives, one of whom lives in Paris.
Whe was an older woman who loved telling stories about what France was like
during WWII. Over dinner, she told me about her own life during the war:
she was a French Jew, part of the resistance, and arrested by the Nazi's
twice (and escaped both times). I picked up the check.
This travel journal continues in Lyon.
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