When We Don’t Exercise, We Eat Like We Do

The most important people in my life are the laziest people I know. Just kidding. They just happen to sleep a lot more than I do, or wish they could, and it’s rubbing off on me. Today I slept almost ten hours, and woke up like a baby shining in the moonlight. Or more like sunlight because the moon had already passed out after waiting for me to wake up for too long. The point is, today we didn’t go hiking!!! And when we don’t exercise (this is the part in the concert where I hold the mike to my adoring audience and you say…) WE EAT LIKE WE DO!

Today, we tried to be real tourists, so we decided to visit the Pharo, which my dad has been pushing and pushing for us to go visit since we passed by in the car since day one. And we managed to walk there with the map and directions I had gotten this morning, with no problem. Everything went smoothly. Right?

Wrong. Here is the image of the Pharo. Spot the mistake.

IMG_2638

Now. Did you spot anything wrong with it? Yes? Why, what was that? That’s not the Pharo? Why, correct! That’s the view from the Pharo. My father, in his knowledgeability, had thought that the Pharo was a large crypt with a bunch of tombs and dead Egyptians, such as the Pharaoh. I will not comment extensively on this, except that we are in France, and the dead Pharaoh (think The Mummy) is in Egypt. In fact, the Pharo (a palace made of nice bricks) was so lovely and uninteresting, we didn’t even get any good pictures worth posting for your perusal. So instead, we ate a bunch of food (and took a bunch of pictures, as I am doing in this title photo), and looked at the large block across the water that looked more like a crypt than the Pharo.

IMG_2647

Then we spent the afternoon trying to find a SIM card plan that would give me more than just five seconds of internet, until we realized you needed a French bank account to get an actual plan worth buying, and my dad tried to pay the phone company with a large sum of cash (although it sounds very un-gangsta when you realize my dad was just trying to pay off Orange, the phone company). After our failed gangsta attempt, we were both super bummed out (the way you get high hopes for your future and realize all is lost and you have nothing left except your body to sell – don’t do it. No one wants that sock tan from your hike yesterday), so we decided to go to the fort. Because it looked cool. This is the view from the walk on our way to the fort.

IMG_2655

Here is the view from where we had ice chocolate and green tea.

IMG_2674

Here is our view from our way down from the fort. Also a bonus is now you get to see what I would look like if my future baby is shaped like a square sized backpack.

IMG_2730

My dad was still kind of bummed out because he really, really, really (I cannot emphasize how much he) wanted oysters, so we went to a fruit market. That only sold bananas, and I journalled for a bit about said bananas and said desire for oysters.

IMG_2650IMG_2692

AND THEN. We were walking along the ocean (where most shellfish are caught) and we found oysters!! And I became very happy and started taking photos of my dad being very happy. Which makes both of us very happy. Here is a few of the same moment happening simultaneously (yes, you are wondering, how did Stefani take a photo of herself from her dad taking a photo of her even though he is not taking a photo of her in the photo of him?? Yes. Time. Grasshopper. Time)

IMG_2729 IMG_2719

Then my dad ordered clams, because he was so happy his appetite surged, and then when they turned out to be super tiny clams, he angrily took the loaf of restaurant bread and started feeding the pigeons who crowded around the area, and then we left the restaurant to be fed on by ugly, fat pigeons and in his head he was cackling and saying, ‘take that for your tiny clams.” And as we speak, I am sitting in our room, eating hella cheese and getting hella fat, and my dad is taking a nap after his 14th shower of the day because he feeds so many pigeons he needs to make sure he doesn’t turn into one.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s