French Women Don't Get Fat Because They Don't Eat

I always lose weight right after I arrive in France. Generally this doesn't last long, since my body eventually adjusts to the boost in exercise around the same time I find a great place for pastries.

And right on schedule, I'm already falling off a bit. This is due partly to the fact that I have limited food supplies-- I spent most of last night wandering the neighborhood in search of a grocery store, and by the time I actually found one, I was so tired that I just grabbed a baguette and some cheese and came home to sleep for 13 hours. Then breakfast got cut short because I couldn't figure out the $*#@ oven, and I had places to go. Namely, the post office. I studied the map and used my new trick wherein I write down the names of streets going the wrong way. (As in, "If you pass THIS street, you should turn around and go the opposite direction.") I got to the post office (!), got my package, and hauled it home for a total trip of three miles, half of which was spent carrying a 15-pound box.

After a caffeine re-load, I took the bus downtown and dutifully admired a bunch of old buildings:

I don't mean to sound snotty, but every town in France has its "old city" and after a while they're just okay. As I wandered around some more (lost!), I accidentally found this market:

Amidst the produce, flowers, meats and cheeses, there was also a wide selection of polyester clothing. Which explains why the general population needs a serious talking-to from Stacy and Clinton.

From the market I proceeded directly to the mall, where I was reunited with my one true love, the FNAC. (If Barnes & Noble and Best Buy had a fling, the FNAC would be their love child.) I surprised myself by spending time in the kids books-- and can I just say, Everyone Poops is just as informative and entertaining in French. I also noticed the large display of (excuse me while I throw up a little) Twilight books, which here are titled Fascination, Tentation, Hésitation, and Révélation. I don't know too much about the storyline, but something about a romantic saga with the title Hésitation cracks me up.

After a few more stops at the Office de Tourisme (for maps) and the mass transit office (for maps), I went and found an unoccupied park where no one could see me looking at my maps. (I don't like reading maps in public, so sue me.) I felt brave enough to walk home. This all totaled eight miles on the day, which I assumed at first was a mathematical error on my part (me + math = catastrophe), but a few hours later my shin splints beg to differ.

But it's been a lovely day, lots of sunlight, a strong breeze. It's warm but I wouldn't call it hot-- think Mobile in October, when it's just ridiculously fantastic weather, and that's what I've got going on here. I just hope it keeps up.