Got here yesterday. Sat next to a really fidgity kid traveling alone whose Mom tried telling me something, although I couldn’t understand her French–the kid kept saying, “Elle est une anglaise, elle est une anglaise.” I have heard the same from everyone who cannot understand what I am trying to say, or when I cannot understand them. But I am speaking lots, sometimes successfully.
The hostel in Aix is very big, and it is possible to walk to the centre-ville within an hour (the bus does not run on Sunday). There is a group of French adults with disabilities staying there so it feels like summer camp. But there is not much to do there so I think I will spend as much time as I can downtown.
Aix is beautiful: like the rest of the south of France (that I have seen), the streets are narrow and the buildings old and interesting. It looks, aptly, like a mixture of old Nice and Avignon, but it is very easy to lose yourself wandering the streets. I’ve stumbled upon two markets just this morning, and one very enthusiastic (and attractive) cheese vendor who gave me a great chunk to try.
I’m heading to the archives tomorrow with a list of documents that I need to see; I hope that it will be successful–wish me luck…