Global Warming Killed My Boyfriend

I'll have to update this with picture proof when I get back to Antibes. But I've finally succumbed to a French love-affair.

It all started *cue flashback music* in Switzerland of all places. This chilly Easter morning, I experienced my first real falling flakes of snow in quite a number of years. It sparked something in me that hasn't yet been awaken. Kind of like a child-like state. So in this "weakened" mentality, I was able to let it in.

In Neuchâtel, Switzerland I saw this little guy. My first glimpse of a snowman left by some other love-struck wanderer and suddenly, I was inspired beyond my years.


Since I'd already been heart-warmed by this child-like state, a few hours later and back in Annecy, France chez mon papa, I was quickly reminded of my brief infatuation from earlier in the day. Just like that, a wave of emotions I've never felt rushed over me.


A new idea struck my little American brain and love walked back into my life. This is the beginning:


Just when I thought I'd never have a French romance, I was willing and patient to let things develop. I was trying to catch something before that wasn't yet ready to materialize.


It took a lot of hard work and energy -- even the eventual delay of my favorite nightly ritual: tartes from the local bakery.


In order to make things work with a French man, you must be patient. You have to be willing to see what you want to see and accept the rest for what it is.


French men never smile in photos.


But in the end it'll never work out. Our differences are greater than the miles that span the Atlantic Ocean and separate California from France. Eventually I'll have to go back home. His temper got the best of me the few short hours we spent together. Because of his French heritage, he is cold and slow to let people in.

I made a joke about him being thus and he took it too much to heart. So then I pointed out the obvious stereotype: "If you're so upset about it, why don't your run crying to your mother." However, I didn't know he actually does live with his mom.

I let myself sleep on it and in the morning decided that I needed to apologize and we could work out whatever kinks exist between us.

...But in the morning, he was gone.

* * * * * *

I told you snow makes me feel like a kid. Though, I had to put up with a lot to get here, like a 13-hour delayed flight. I arrived at the Nice Cote d'Azur airport on Friday at 6:30 p.m., a little early for my flight. When the kiosk finally opened, my gate was never listed and "Flight Delayed" kept flashing by all the Easy Jet flights.

Well, three hours passed and the two flights of the night that were later than my 9 p.m. flight had already come and gone. Our plane sat patiently at the designated gate, waiting for people to fill it up. By 11:30 p.m., we were finally given the green light to board. Alas, after 30 minutes in the hangar, everyone was told to leave and go back beyond security to the airport's main lobby. Everything in the airport was closed and half the lights were off. Instead of flying out that night, every single passenger was given free transportation to the Park Inn hotel right by the airport along with a (HUGE, un-France-sized) breakfast the next morning and transportation back to the airport.

Long story short, I made my way to the Basel airport for a snow-filled weekend in Germanic Switzerland with my parents. Here's my very first glimpse of snow, before even getting off the plane:


Though I don't yet know how this story will end. It's supposed to snow heavily for the next three days in Geneva, so only time will tell if my flight will be able to leave ground this afternoon...