I’m bald, I’m bruised and I’m swollen; I look like a kiwi left behind in a lunchbox in the ruins of Chernobyl.
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Strasbourg | Cochon
It’s been five and a half months in Strasbourg. This blows my mind. Half a year here, and still life feels like a waiting room; waiting for my French to improve, waiting for solid friendships to form, waiting for our money to stop fluctuating quite so madly.
Continue readingStrasbourg | A Good Man of Snow
Strasbourg is quilted with snow. We were supposed to go hiking in the mountains yesterday, and we got up early to dress ourselves in layer upon layer of old ski gear. When we got to the train station, however, we found our train cancelled due to some trees having collapsed onto the tracks.
Continue readingStrasbourg | You Must Learn Speaking French
I’m acquiring a lot of physical possessions in France, which is scaring me a bit. On my desk I have a sepia French globe (a gift from Jeanne), a harmonica (a gift from me to myself; extremely ill-advised), and a strange glass ornament containing sand and water and bubbles, the three of which drip over one another to form little orange pyramids whenever I shake the thing, which is every thirty seconds because I have the attention span of a hummingbird.
Continue readingStrasbourg | The Big Move
Jeanne and I are now fully moved into our new apartment; from here on out we are happy residents of Bitch Street, Strasbourg.
Continue readingAvignon | Pompette

This weekend just gone, Jeanne and I took a train and went to visit some very good friends in the south of France. God I’m so proud of that sentence. Aren’t I classy these days?
Continue readingStrasbourg | Bitche
Well, it seems I left my last blog post on a bit of a cliff-hanger by accident. Did I get diagnosed with COVID-19?
Continue readingStrasbourg | COVID and Literal Burglary
Terribly! That’s how my first week in France has gone. Terribly!
Continue readingStrasbourg | Agape
Strasbourg | Un peu de Tranquilité
I’m drinking a freshly squeezed lemon juice and looking out of the window, past the great weeping willow in the garden, to the pale blue sky over Alsace, where a trio of parachutists twirl towards the Earth.
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