Mahgeetah

Mahgeetah.

When My Morning Jacket’s Jim James wrote that song, apparently it was a fun way of saying “my guitar” or at least that’s what the internet tells me. For me, it’s the song I go to when I am in my absolute best mood as I have yet again never really considered its meaning before now, and so it’s quite appropriately playing in my Airbnb tonight. It is a song that bounces you along playfully, and I think it is physically impossible for you not to smile when it’s playing.

It hits especially strong when you’ve come out of a recent period of struggling.

All apologies to my next door neighbors for the early evening American rock-n-roll concert that’s blaring in here. It’s hitting really strong tonight.

Look, it just did not get any better after Paris. While Annecy’s first impressions were some of the best of the trip so far, it quickly waned and left me regretting the length of stay I had booked.

While the language barrier did continue to be a thing and I didn’t visit a single restaurant in Annecy (to be fair, I did cook quite a bit as I have done for much of the trip when staying at a place with a kitchen), that wasn’t the only thing that had me down. I was feeling unaccomplished, which begs the question what am I seeking to accomplish, and the answer to that is I’m not sure. But whatever it is, I wasn’t getting it in Annecy.

As I mentioned in a lengthy post on Facebook that all but negated the need for this entry, I had a couple of rough moments, full of tears and full of doubts. Here I am an ocean away, having no idea what I’m getting out of this and wondering if the big decisions I made to reach this point had been foolish.

So on Monday, as I neared the end of the first full calendar month on this adventure, I took advantage of a lengthy train ride to reassess. In my mind, I’ve wanted some of this trip to be about living like the locals, but how is that defined? This morning while walking to the train for my next stop, I walked alongside parents walking their rambunctious kids to school. I was only in Avignon for two nights, but that moment alone was exactly what I wanted. I didn’t have to stay there for six nights to experience it.

It was a validating moment for me, that the time spent on the train there was effective. I have enjoyed not knowing where I was going next, but I think it’s also aided in my unaccomplished feeling. So with that in mind, I wrote out a list of stops and dates. Do I have to stick to it? No. Will it feel good as I cross them off? Yes, even if multiple stops have been scratched out and replaced with some other option along the way. Will I be able to have moments that just aren’t touristy in nature? If I’m open to them, for sure.

Another of those moments also came this morning.

I walked up to the platform for my train to Nice way too soon, and it was deserted but for one mother and her small child. “Bonjour,” she says before I’ve even finished climbing the ramp. I greet her in return, and she immediately goes into some long, clearly frustrated question. “Uhhh… pardon… uhh… je ne parle pas… uh… uh… bien francais,” I say. She looks away dismayed. We both have the same idea apparently because when I look up after reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone and open Google Translate, she has beaten me to it, showing me her question wondering if the next train made a particular stop.

I shook my head with a sympathetic look and said I would check to be sure, though I’m sure she didn’t understand that. I pulled up the train’s schedule and sure enough it did not stop where she was wanting to go. She was clearly upset, but she was also clearly appreciative, said “merci,” took her child, and hurried off to another platform.

While it was a disappointing moment for her, I wish she could know that it provided me with a big spark. It gave me confidence that I can for sure communicate with the tools I have at my disposal, and it made me feel for a brief moment like a local.

Before I go on further, let me say that Annecy was beautiful, and I would go back but probably at another time of the year, preferably with someone else, and with a length of stay that was much shorter. The old town was spectacular, as you can tell by the above photo, and the lake upon which the city sits is a beautiful place for a walk, something I can only imagine is even better when the nearby Alps are not constantly shrouded by clouds as they were for all but about 28 minutes of the seven days I spent there.

Avignon was also neat, and two nights — or one full day — was a perfect amount of time to stay there. The city center is full of squares, joined together by narrow cobblestone streets, and I can imagine when the weather is warmer, it is quite the bustling place.

There is, as is pretty standard around these parts, also plenty of history in Avignon, including the Palais des Papes where six different popes lived in the 14th century. Apparently the inside is underwhelming, so I enjoyed it from the outside, which was particularly striking as much of the complex is built into a large rock (Wikipedia describes it as impregnable and I agree), giving the structure an even greater sense of importance and grandeur.

After walking around the stunning Gothic building, and after surprising a couple teenage guys sitting on some out-of-the-way steps where I’m sure they thought they’d be undisturbed to smoke the joint they were rolling, I headed down to the Rhône and enjoyed a nice stroll by the river before wandering around more windy streets on my way back to the place.

I saw what I wanted to see, had the hysterical encounter with the stoners, and I could go back to prepare to pack up to leave the next morning. It felt good.

I’ve rambled on long enough for now, so I won’t go into the trip to Nice and my first afternoon and evening here yet, but just rest assured that I am so gosh darn happy right now.

Mahgeetah, indeed.

WAIT JUST A SECOND.

I want you to experience this as I have just experienced this. I finished penning the post, started to read through it to make sure there were no glaring mistakes, and realized that I left out the funniest thing that happened to me since my last update. I’m just going to throw it in here at the end as opposed to trying to find the spot for it up there.

So yes, I was feeling better in Avignon, but I still wasn’t ready to do the whole restaurant thing. I know, I know… grow up, Taylor. Or at least grow a pair.

Anyways, so I get the notification that my delivery has arrived, and I go downstairs to meet the courier. I push the button to open the door. Nothing. I mean, there’s a noise that makes it sound like it worked, but I push on the door and nothing. I push the button again. This time I pull. Nothing. I think an instant sweat came across my forehead. I try one more time to no avail, so I pull out Google Translate, quickly type “can you please leave it at the door? I can’t get out” and copy the French version to send to him in the delivery app. As I tap send, I try one more time, at which point I somehow figure it out, stumble out of the door, and find the deliverer with the biggest grin on his face.

I. Was. So. Embarrassed.

And I hope you are laughing at least moderately hard at my antics.

I swear there should be a camera crew following me around.