July 30, 2011

Aix is one of those towns that manages to combine everything I love about France in one place. Great food, market stalls, cobbled streets, cafe lined squares and fountains that make you want to sit and write poetry. Well, that’s what I tried to do until I realised I had no pen and most of my poetry ends up being raps using the words poo and bum. Nevertheless, you can understand why painters like Cezanne were so inspired by the place, it’s just so damn pretty.

So as you can tell, I loved Aix. Luke, on the other hand, quite eloquently summed it up as like a Westfield, but nicer. Despite not having to set foot in one shop, it was the mere number of shops he had to walk past to get from A to B that seemed to warp his opinion of the place. Don’t worry though, instead of writing poetry by the fountain I hit him with my book while screaming ‘you better start liking this town bitch’ until he agreed. One might say this was even more beautiful than my potential penned sonnet. You know, actions speak louder than words, public displays of newfound French passion etc.

I’m not entirely sure what we did with our time in Aix, we did wander a lot, lay in a park on the softest grass in the world, ate sushi, played cards in one of the squares, drank coffee and ate pastries. We also stayed in a pretty great apartment off the Cours Mirabeau, the main street in the old village. The guy was a designer with great taste in music, books and snacks. And, what was even better was that we had the whole apartment to ourselves.

We’re currently on the train to Lyon and the whole compartment stinks of B.O. Jpow told us that if he sees anyone reach up for something at a supermarket he walks the other way. That was a great piece of advice. I wish I could stick my head out of the window right now because as some of you know, I have the nose of a sniffer dog.