Reader, we survived. After 6+ weeks of hotels, boats, left-side driving, and enough hotel pillows to build a modest fort, we rolled into Aix-en-Provence on Friday—straight into a dry, affectionate slap from the Provençal sun. Nearly 100°F (bonjour, canicule) versus an AC unit best described as “valiant, but outmatched.”
For a hot minute (literally), we doubted we’d make it through the night. Strategic fan feng shui + the faintest whisper of a top sheet = victory. I ended up with goosebumps—la chair de poule—which in French charmingly means “chicken flesh.” Très couture, non?
We’re about a half-kilometer from centre-ville, a glorious stroll under the plane trees to Monoprix, which has a bit of everything… except un ramasse-objet (an object-grabber, because we are now officially That Age™).
The detour diaries
A Brexit-flavored paperwork hiccup stranded us in the UK for a few days, so we pivoted to sightseeing:
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Salisbury Cathedral. Todd insisted, because The Huntington’s got a Constable of it and traditions matter. We stayed at the White Hart; as ever, Mercure served “threadbare chic” with a side of charm.
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Stonehenge. We dodged the 25,000-person solstice scrum and went the next morning for the Druid ceremony. It now involves ropes, timed entry, and absolutely no hugging the stones. (Back in the day: pull over, commune, try not to spook a trilithon.)
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Bath. Sunday Roast across from the Roman Baths, because nothing says “ancient empire” like gravy and Yorkshire pudding.
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Sully, Wales. My childhood home. I triumphantly greeted the day with “prynhawn da.” Turns out that’s “good afternoon.” So either I’m bilingual… or a time traveler.
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LeShuttle. Back to Southampton and through the Chunnel—remarkably smooth, despite our U.S. phones insisting we were still somewhere near Kansas.
Then we drove the length of France and exhaled in Aix. I start a 4-month French class on July 21, fingers crossed I’ll soon order both a baguette and a metaphor with equal confidence.
Today’s quest: a proper French phone number so Amazon stops delivering to the mysterious neighbor who may or may not be building a thriving side-hustle on LeBonCoin with our grabbers and bed risers.
The heat is real; I’m hoping the daily grocery walk doesn’t finish me off before Provence cools down. (If I collapse near a boulangerie, please note: I died doing what I loved.)
Lavender-scented hugs from the market,
Thom
Mini language toolbox (A1 → Advanced)
A1 (just landed):
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Il fait chaud. (It’s hot.)
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J’ai la chair de poule. (I’ve got goosebumps.)
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C’est à cinq cents mètres, à pied. (It’s 500 meters, on foot.)
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Je cherche un ramasse-objet / de l’anti-chaleur (ventilateur, glaçons…).
A2 (getting errands done):
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La clim’ est un peu faible / à fond. (The AC is weak / blasting.)
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Mon colis a été livré chez un voisin par erreur. (My package was delivered to a neighbor by mistake.)
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Pouvez-vous me dire où se trouve le Monoprix le plus proche ?
B1 (story time):
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Practice a short past-tense recap: Nous étions coincés au Royaume-Uni parce que… puis nous avons visité…
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Use travel connectors: d’abord, ensuite, finalement, en passant par…
B2 (confident explorer):
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Nuance and comparisons: Comparé à Nice, l’hôtel à Salisbury avait un charme un peu… patiné.
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Soft humor (stay kind!): La clim’ se battait courageusement contre la canicule, mais sans succès.
Advanced (spice it up):
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Idiomatic flair: On a tenu bon malgré la fournaise, et la nuit, on grelottait — merci, ventilateur héroïque.
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Micro-register: HS (hors service) for “out of order,” pile-poil for “right on the nose.”
Your turn 🔻
What was your first-week-in-France surprise? The heat? The paperwork? Accidentally wishing someone “good afternoon” at breakfast? Drop a comment with:
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your funniest arrival mishap,
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your best heat-survival hack, or
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the phrase you wish you’d known on Day One.
A1 friends: try one sentence in French (how far you are from La Rotonde). B1+ pals: tell a mini-story with d’abord / ensuite / finalement. Allez, on se lance—be kind, be silly, be Aixois(e)!