This afternoon, I realized I was nearly 20 minutes early for a train, which is more than enough time to go across the street for a sweet. Of the three boulangeries facing me, I chose the prettiest.
When I went in, I needed a moment to decide, and the young man behind the counter clearly related to my dilemma. He may not realize it, but he’s my new favorite person in Angers, because when I asked if the cookies were soft or crunchy, he volunteered to warm them up so they would be softer. He stuck them back in the oven and then waited as though he knew just the right amount of time to pull them out.
I hope he can feel the warm appreciative love I’m sending him since the French don’t do tip jars.
I’m on my way to spend New Year’s with my roommate’s family in Versailles. Should be lovely.
I realize I’m WAY overdue to tell you about Morocco. I’ve got loads to tell you and pictures to show you and I’m sorry it’s taking so long. I’ve been sick for a week and the pathetic wireless in my apartment hasn’t been working at all. Tomorrow.