Twas the last day in France and I was so ready to get home

Saturday morning I got up bright and early to do a couple hours of homework before going to a quieter part of town to find more shopping on the cheap. The only place open before 7AM in Nice? McDonalds. Eugh. And their internet wasn't available bc it was before restaurant hours. What? Shock le blue! (the only French I know is from Beauty and the Beast)

I came home at 9AM for breakfast. I'm in love with persimmons and strawberries together. They need to bunk together in a pie and then in my mouth.

We finished the fruit up and took the clean, quiet, cheap tram around to an area with a lot of street vendors and their creepy doll toys

After a long morning of window shopping we had a small lunch of cafe (espresso) and socca (chickpea crepes)

and then I headed to the airport for my 3PM flight. It was smooth sailing back to Ireland until I got there and missed my coach bus home which led me to meeting my future husband.

Sorry mom, not coming home. I met a bus driver with an Irish accent and what more could a girl want? He has red hair and a green heart and we're going to travel the world (dublin airport) and back together eating bangers and mash. I only met him because I missed the first bus (uh, fate?!) and he was the next one leaving...two hours from then.

Normally hearing this news would infuriate me. I was now stuck in the airport for two hours and was going to get home at ten at night instead of seven due to schedules, but that accent has the ability to assuage every bad situation I find myself in:

"ah, yer just after missin it!" I'd been standing right there. On time. But somehow still managed to miss it leaving. So I whined, "no I haven't!!!" and he exclaimed "ah! orite, well den I've just come two hours early fer ya!" w'okie! It's really that easy to diffuse a cranky liz.

I went inside and ate dinner in the airport and worked on my paper. Vegetables were really hard to come by in restaurants in Nice so I was craving them when I landed, but apparently airports are not the place for veggies either. I got an apple, banana and orange bc I'm such a steadfast, health nut, nutrition student.

Juuuuuuust kidding, I got fruit and a giant potato covered in cheese.

The potato covered in cheese turned out to just be cheese covered in cheese covered in heart attacks. After that trip I've needed an IV of green smoothies to feel normal again. But I successfully demolished the fruit!

Driver (husband) dropped me off at our driveway. At the stop in town I asked if he could take me further down the road as I had no ride so he grabbed my bags and told me to "get back on ta bus!" I requested the petrol station down the street, but when we got there he got my bags for me and looked around as he put them down and said absolutely no way is he leaving me here alone in the pitch dark middle of nowhere! Sigh. (To note: getting dropped off at the house by this coach service is not at all something out of the ordinary or chivalrous. They do it all the time. I knew this. Still swooned.) So I got back on the bus again, thanking the polite passengers for their patience and then finally, third times a charm, got out at our driveway and ran up the hill, rolly suitcase flying around behind me and burst in the door to tell my cousin (and scare her half to death bc she was just getting ready to come and pick me up). Ah, it was a whirlwind romance it was. Now back to real life, sort of.

But really, look how freaking long the driveway is:

!