"...You're getting a BROWNIE in a FRENCH BAKERY??" i.e. another blog post dedicated to tom-foolery with Jessica Higgins

It's taken me about fifteen minutes to try and decide how to start this post... mainly because the love I have for my BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF JESSICA HIGGINS is so incredibly profound that words cannot begin to describe it, but also because I may have a minor concussion from falling off my newly purchased bike earlier today and thinking is hard.

Either way, the struggle bus chugs on. 

You see, Ron is my kin. We are both incredibly awkward individuals who lack talent as well as souls... Although the object smacking me in the face was the sidewalk instead of a broom.

Those people who have followed my blog up to this point may be asking: "Whhaaaa'? Isn't Jessica in Italy right now eating pasta at this very second because that is, of course, all you ever do in Italy??" 

This is, in fact, the actual Italy. And it's not called a "bow tie" noodle, you impostors, it's FARFALLE.

And to that I say YES! Right at this moment, she is!

But... she wasn't in Italy this weekend. Because she was in France. With me. Eating cheese. Because that's all anyone does in France. 

Cheez for realz yo.

Jessica had the brief opportunity before her final exams to come and spend three days with me in Rennes -- and I am so happy she did, because the next time I will be seeing her is at least seven months from now, in the States. :( This fact makes me incredibly, incredibly sad. 

But, while she was here, we had a smashing good time together... as always! 

I gave her a brief tour of Rennes, making sure to stop for some vin chaud canadien in the local Christmas market. 

Do Christmas markets exist in the States? And, if they do, can they be more like European Christmas markets? 'Cause... they're pretty rad here.

On Friday, we rode a merry-go-round in Place Hoche, only too happy to fulfill the stupid American stereotype and to make our sole fellow carousel rider of five-years laugh hysterically. Besides our five-year old friend, we also caught many smiles from the much older merry-go-round employee, who clearly thought we were freakin' adorable. 

Whheeeeeeeeeeee!!!

It took a few tries to find an automobile/animal/other random plastic object that had seats capable of fitting our adult-sized butts on the merry-go-round, but after much searching, we finally succeeded in squeezing one butt cheek each into the hot air balloon. 

On Saturday, we spent the abnormally sunny day exploring Mont St. Michel, the UNESCO World Heritage Site that, according to Jessica, is actually the castle from the Disney film Tangled. 

Essentially, Mont St. Michel was the most random outcrop of rock the monks and nuns could find in Normandy. Once they found it, they turned to each other and said, "Yep! This looks like a good enough place to worship God and remain celibate for the rest of our lives!" And voilà! Mont St. Michel was born!!

All kidding aside, Mont St. Michel is basically located in the middle of an oceanic desert. 

Yes, the construction of the monastery was strategic -- from the top of the rocks you can see for miles, and no army in the past would have had much ease seizing it. Now, Mont St. Michel is the second most popular tourist attraction in all of France; you can spend the afternoon exploring the town's tight, winding roads and the shadowed underground hallways of the abbey like we did. 

The main road of the town.

"What is this?! An alleyway made for ANTS?!?!" 

We ate sausages and said many sacrilegious things while posing with random objects. 

Our picnic lunch on the peaceful steps up to the abbey! 

That hair tho. 

HELP ME I'M POOR. 

...I have no explanation for that face. 

Besides visiting Mont St. Michel, we ate many galettes, crêpes, kebabs, and cookies back in Rennes; Jessica cut carrots for the first time in her life ever; and I officially became a food snob when Jessica asked me to order her a brownie in the Fournil Vasselot bakery and I quickly retorted, disbelievingly, "YOU'RE GETTING A BROWNIE IN A FRENCH BAKERY???"

....Which, now that I think about it, is incredibly ironic, considering the reason we went to the bakery  in the first place was to get chocolate chip cookies. Soooo French those are. 

Christmas lights are up in Rennes!!!!

Sunday evening and a million laughs later, Jessica got on the bus to head back to her temporary home in Italy. Once again, with tears in my eyes, I said good bye to my bestest buddy in the whole wide world without knowing exactly when I would be seeing her again. 

Jessica: I had a thought the other day. The French word for soulmate is âme-sœur, which actually translates quite literally into "soul sister."

If anyone was my âme-sœur.... then, girly, it's you. 

Love to you no matter how many oceans there are between us. 

D