On the train to Nîmes:
I've been harried the whole day--started this morning when I dropped my credit card somewhere and couldn't find it for an hour (it was in my suitcase), continued in the BIOCOOP as I fretted over which organic cidre and beer to get my next WWOOFing hosts, and followed me all the way onto my transfer train to Lyon when a man who probably is a model--piercing eyes, cheekbones, jawbones, browbones, etc--sat down across from me, giving me the Zoolander look from time to time (I later found out he's a woodworker from Nice). It's 15h10 and I've finally identified the feeling that I've found so unsettling the whole day: I'm not worried. I've been awake since 6 am, caffienated, jittery, trying to stress out and feel productive, but I can't bring myself to do it with any sincerity.
Today I'm going to an unfamiliar French town, tomorrow I go to a stranger's vineyard. I've got too little money, too much baggage, and next to no direction. I've never been so happy and at peace my entire life.
