With my toothpaste taken away from me, I arrived to Paris Beauvais airport. A friend from Sant Boi was waiting who got there seven hours before was waiting for me. He preferred to see horses the whole day next to the airport than going to Brittany on his own.
We had to take the high-speed train to Saint Brieuc in the centre of Paris. My first ― and only ― visit to the city of love was short. We took some pictures of ourselves with the Eiffel tower far at the back while we ran to get the train. Maybe it was not actually romantic, but at least I was with someone, though he says our relationship doesn’t fit in that scene.
When the train stopped in Saint Brieuc the blond French was already waving on the platform. The dark-haired one was to come two days after.
It was pretty late and we had to go to a costumes birthday party. We took some of those so-popular-in-the-rest-of-Europe triangular sandwiches for the journey in the car.
Everybody was in a different costume because every costume had to contain a different letter in the name. We had letter x, so we were plombixs, Asterix and Obelix plumbers (plombier in French). There was a score of people and some of them couldn’t speak any English or Spanish, so I had to speak French. It was good to see I can hold a pseudo-conversation of fifteen minutes in this language.
The rest of the days were like going back to childhood in the village. In the morning we played Wii while the blond was working and in the afternoon we played football with his friends or ride to the beaches (though the Sant Boi boy didn’t actually like bikes) and visited the region. In the evening some friends came and we chatted in the garden.
The boy from Sant Boi left two days before I did. I spent last night in Brest, at the dark-haired boy’s place, because my plane to London was leaving from there the day after.