So I had a Sunday morning with God in the parc by the train station. There are benches spread throughout this little are, and pigeons flock and fill the area more than people. There's a very calming large mossy rock resting on some water in the center-it mists out into the air, no doubt refreshing many a bird from the streams of sunlight seeping through the trees. It was quite calm here; Sunday morning brings this atmosphere. No stores open, not even a grocery store; only a few cafes. After my time in the parc, I floated over to the train station, le gare. I'm attracted to it the same way I enjoy going to Hartsfield-Jackson. The adventurous faces of those arriving with large sac-a-dos (backpacks), and the excited, sparkling eyes of families and friends being reunited--the same look I saw when I found my own mother there. I went upstairs to a little cafe in the corner and sat down for a drink and a little croissant. I knew very well my intention was to stay for almost two hours, because I had that much time before I was to meet two friends for lunch at Comedie. In the states, you would get an uneasy stare from a waitress after taking up a table for such a long amount of time with only a cup of tea, barely filling the surface area...and your bill. Though here I've come to know when to enjoy the relaxed pace of life, especially on Sundays; a day to find peace and regain strength for the week. And there's also a bit of laundry to do:) But today I was not thinking of laundry or what shift I will be working next week. I was trapped, held captive, by a book I'm reading. Thanks to a wonderful reccommendation by my friend Kari in Lyons, and my thoughtful Memaw, I started reading "Two Crosses" by Elizabeth Musser. The story takes place in Montpellier and the surrounding cities, places I've come to know well. The main character is a female my age with a passion I admire. The plot line even became interactive as I read about two characters getting on a train at Montpellier and going to another city close by--and there I was sitting in the station, reading the words describing my surroundings, and feeling the trains below vibrate my booth just a little. So maybe my rough draft of the day didn't make the final cut. However, I enjoyed it all the same. After my read I met two Spanish friends, one who is leaving to go back to Bolivia on Tuesday, for lunch. The food and the company were excellent. But being here is like college on fast forward. I'm put in a new place with new surroundings and new people. I learn a lot and make great friends, only to find that we must go our separate ways and lead the lives we were each designed for. But that doesn't mean I don't have a wonderful address book compiled of the people I've met and the invitations they've extended:) Bon Dimanche! (Good Sunday to you)