Swedes

Do not worry, I come bearing awesome england tales.

But they will have to wait.

Today I flew from manchester to marseilles. First of all, there was no way of telling whether or not my dad knew this. Montpellier and marseilles are alliteration kindred. But the catch here is that my bag had to weigh 30 pounds (not 50). In order to orchestrate this miracle, I bought a huge carry-on to put heavy things in. It weighed at least twenty pounds. When I got to the airport, my suitcase was still over. So I had to put more stuff in the carry-on. Not a rolling bag. A shoulder bag. So I check my suitcase and proceed to become a human packmule. The catch HERE is that a carry-on bag can only weigh 15 pounds.

Mine weighed about thirty.

So I avoided security personnel successfully (somehow) and boarded the plane.

But now came the real challenge - putting it in the overhead bins.

I needed to do this with ease and no assistance, lest people know my secret. I was offered assistance, which I declined. I tried to lift it with no success. Then I realized what I had to do - use leverage. So I rested my giant bag on my face and pushed. My face was the closest thing to the bin. It worked. But everyone on the plane either thinks I’m weird or weak. Win win?

When I got back to grau du roi, I was forced into activity without showering or even bringing my stuff inside. One such activity was renting one of those pedal cars that they have at the beach. Called “rosalies” here. I went with the little ones and my aunt to get it. Olivia and sophia were basically the ones who rented it, because I don’t exactly speak rosalie french. I drove and motorcycles tried to run me over. We picked up my stepmom’s parents, who only speak swedish, and let them drive. Our mission was to find my dad and carina. We almost hit three police cars, went the wrong way on many roads, and came close to running over citizens of all ages. All the while, my aunt and I are yelling to hit the brake. Which they do not understand because we are not speaking swedish. As fun as it is to pretend to speak swedish, it is in fact a real language. As we are screaming in fear, they are laughing their heads off and saying things like “hiya hoora svinger dinger!!! Ya”.

Then Olivia spoke English for the first time this whole trip.

“Oh my Goddd!”