Dear Montbelliard, France:
You and your Christmas market were sortof an interesting antidote to my hangover. Though I had to carry my laptop all through you, I thank you for bringing me and the Leather Pouch Prince together for brief eye contact. I sorta got lost in his big French eyes when I first saw him, it was a little shocking. He is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in person (Emilie agrees), and now I own a leather pouch he made, and its super useful! He really did look like some sort of dark prince or something, but like, he would eventually meet a princess and they would have a festival, etc…but really he was just a leather man! When he called me mademoiselle, it was something truly special. I am really stumbling with expressing how cute this French dude was. Just imagine…he was like, fairy tale, hellooooooo. But he just made leather pouches (damn nice ones, ps, and at a reasonable price).
Montbelliard was home to a famous anthropologist, but I was more into their cool pizzas, and how the whole alsacian + French genepool concept had really done wonders for montbelliard, which would make me dare to call it the most attractive city in france, thus far. Everyone looked like princes! Even the old dudes eating interesting cheese sandwiches in the Christmas market tent.
I saw a statue I decided looked like Emilie’s dad, I got some cheese potatoes that were sorta gross, but sorta good, we talked to funny weird pizza makers who were very friendly and funny (yay, normal funny and friendly people) and we had some beer, b/c hey, Montbelliard is near Germany.
The singing Marseilles football hooligans was really just an added bonus, though I was a little overwhelmed by them when I was like, hungover and carrying the laptop and like, sorta angry in general at the air for being so hard to breathe, etc…..Still, Emilie and I decided that our pretty much fav thing about Europe that you really can’t find in the states is their propensity to sing whenever possible, and their stock of songs for most every (drinking) occasion. Sure, we’ve covered the xmas tune market, and the pop music, sure, but for old fashioned drinking songs (and the real embarrassment-free willingness, if not enthusiasm to sing them…) there’s not place like the Big E.
I heart you Montbelliard. If you’re out there leather pouch prince, I sortof heart you, too.
I need to write me some drinking songs to sing in the USA, dude. My buddy doris even knows a drinking song about her region…from what I know of it, it rules. I want a regional song to sing when I drink! The Missouri waltz could do…I should learn it.
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