Auberge de Jeunesse

It turns out that there is, in fact, a McDonald's here in Tours. It's the only McDonald's I know of that has quotations by Balzac and Apollinaire printed on the outside; but it's still a McDonald's, which means, of course, free Internet access. I'm seated on a chair outside, and can read that "Ton Happy Meal" costs 4 Euros.

I moved out of the Avertins' today, receiving kisses from Madame and Stephanie, a hug from Misaki, and a handshake from Monsieur (Katie was still asleep, overwhelmed with jet lag). They drove me to my room at the youth hostel, or "auberge de jeunesse," before driving off to morning church. I've never stayed in a hostel before, but I think I've made the right decision, by staying in Tours, and not moving immediately to Paris: I know Tours, can find my way around, can sneak into the Institute for free Internet and a reading room, and know which museums I haven't visited.

The hostel room is nearly spartan: there's a bed, a table with a drawer in it, a window, a small dresser, a closet with a few hangers, and a sink. The room is about the size of my bedroom at home: a definite downgrade from Jerome's old room at the Avertins', which had more room, a bookshelf, two bedside tables, a larger desk, a television and VCR, and, most significantly, Wi-Fi. This means that I can communicate during the daytime, at the library, McDonald's, coffeeshop, etc., but I can't watch Les Schtroumpfs on YouTube before I go to bed. Just as well: perhaps this way, I'll read more.

After unpacking what I needed, I headed over to Les Halles, the local market, before it closed at 12:30. Here in Tours, virtually everything is closed on Sunday, and what doesn't close either is open for limited hours, targets tourists, or is a quick mart. I bought some groceries, pulled alternately by my gourmand instinct and my frugality instinct. I bought fruit, but chose apples and nectarines, rather than figs and peaches; I bought bread, but a baguette and an almond loaf rather than croissants and pastries; I bought relish, but cheap jam and camembert rather than Nutella and gourmet cheese. Here, camembert, and not cheddar, seems to be the common cheese; after all, cheddar is imported from the U.K.! Actually, I think that I payed too much for the camembert, because I bought it from a fromagerie and not from a quick mart.

I took my first run since my arrival in France, on a bicycle trail beside the Loire. Not having run in a month, it felt a little strange. I passed many bicyclists, a single runner, a few fisherman, and an unattended wheelbarrow of freshly-picked peaches. Yes, Mother, I wore a shirt, even though I desperately wanted to take it off: although there are runners here, I do not think that the French, or at least the Tourangeaux, run shirtless. Running here is common, but not as common as it is in Ithaca, it seems; however, bicycling seems to be more common. I have not seen a specialty running-store yet, as we have in the states.

I completely forgot how tiring running is! I was fairly lethargic, but decided I needed to take a walk, and found at least two sites with free Wi-Fi. It sure beats the 10 Euros a week for access in the Hostel!

I'll be back tomorrow, with something a little bit more substantial.

~JD

"Le 26 mai, le jury prononca la sentence: Babeuf et Darthe etaient condamnes a mort, Buonarrot, Germain et cinq militants babouvistes, a la deportation, tous les autres etaient acquittes" [May 26th, 1797, the jury pronounced the sentence: Babeuf and Darthe were condemned to death; Buonnarot, Germain, and five babouvist militants were sentenced to deportation; and all the otheres were acquitted] (Denis Wronoff, La Republique bourgeoise, 64).