|a photo from our trip to Annecy, France in October 2010|
I wish I was from Europe. Better yet, I wish I was French. Really, I wish I was anything but American. I know that sounds harsh. And I know that as an American I am blessed to be in a country where I’m free. But the French way seems so romantic and whimsical, so healthy, comfortable, and simple, yet indulgent, glamorous and extravagant. I wish our culture embraced biking, walking, and trains. I wish there was a bakery on every corner selling mouth-watering pastries and tiny-but-mighty espressos. I wish we cared about fashion and appearance, but not in a superficial glittery way, but in the way that every occasion warrants high heels and fancy scarves (not once did I see a French person wearing a t-shirt or tennis shoes).I wish we would value quality over quantity and could not just appreciate but love a meal out that takes up an entire evening rather than the normal 1 hour turn-and-burn method most restaurants in the states have. I wish we valued deep meaningful friendships, warm embraces and a kiss on each cheek upon greeting and I wish we could drink delicious bordeaux and pinot noir on a week night for under $10. I wish I was European.