It was the nth day of my vacation in the beautiful suburbs of France, some 250 kms from Paris. The fact that I had no idea as to what day or date it was, said a lot about how carefree I had become. Soaking up in the joys of being in a new culture and country had made ‘time’ of little to no consequence.
On most days, I would wake up to a breakfast of French coffee and almond croissants followed by a walk to the pond in the backyard. I could easily spend hours propped on the grass watching the morning sky smeared in varied hues of orange and blue. Stretched over miles and miles of green farmlands below, together, it seemed like an opening shot of a movie, set in the countryside.
The rest of the day was spent taking lessons in horse-riding, eating/cooking traditional French delicacies (crepes & anything with cheese) or going on a jungle trek. If you’re beginning to feel slightly jealous at this point, I don’t blame you. It wasn’t how a regular day back home for me looked like either. In fact 3 months earlier, I didn’t even know that I’d be in France, living these wonderful moments.
I was letting it all sink in, when everyone raised their glasses of freshly made apple cider whilst saying ‘chin-chin’ (‘cheers’) to a long and happy life for Rebecca. The entire family had gathered to celebrate her 28th birthday.