I think I’m in love with you. I don’t know if I was just feeling the romance in the air and/or getting caught up in the ridiculous hype that is Valentine’s Day, but I think this is real. I think I love you.
It all started the day before V day. The crew and I took the non-TGV (the RER) from Reims, so it took seemingly forever to get to you, but dang was it worth it. The moment I stepped out of that train station and saw the gorgeous neogothic towers of Église St Léon, I had butterflies.
The night got progressively better as we found our way through your charming streets to a little pizza place tucked into a quiet nook. The staff spoke fairly good English but were willing to let us butcher their mother tongue to help us practice, so we spoke in Franglish (a language that I’m quickly becoming very familiar with). After scarfing down a whole margherita pizza by myself and sharing a tiramisu, I handed my card over to our incredibly cute (but not as cute as you, don’t worry) waiter, and we hurried over to our hotel so we could check in before the concert started.
Side note: I’m 99% that this is the way the majority of France and potentially Europe is, but I have to say that I really appreciate your lack of laws forbidding open containers of alcohol. It made getting a little champagne in before the show a lot easier. And another reason to love you, of course.
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| The Kooks are also a new love of mine. |
A pint of beer bought with a few plastic coins of this weird fake currency later, we were jamming out to some of my favorite alternative hits. I'm fairly sure that we were five of the only Americans in attendance because we definitely were the only ones in our vicinity receiving weird looks from excessive dancing and singing/screaming at the top of our lungs. YOLO. Also, I would never betray you Nancy, but I have to admit I’ve since developed a crush on Bleachers lead singer Jack Antonoff and The Kook’s Luke Pritchard. There’s something about those musician types.
After we left the concert-definitely one of the top three I’ve ever been to-we freshened up at the hotel before wandering around until we could find a bar. A group of a few of your adorable inhabitants told us that everything was closed, but we realized that we shouldn’t ask 14-year-olds where to find bars because we found one about five minutes later. The bartender was rude but there were American movie posters lining the walls and a 40-year-old man DJing on his MacBook, so it was too bizarre not to appreciate.
When we each finished our drink we made our way down the street to find another bar. The nearest was on last call, so we decided that buying two tall Desperados (the most delicious combination of tequila and beer that you’ll ever find) and splitting them amongst the five of us back at the hotel was the best way to end the night. We were right. Just another reason to love you, Nancy: your booze joints are open until 2am.
After a late night of making memories with good friends, we were tired. Unfortunately, I was stuck on a pullout couch with Kenz and Paul, but I was in such a loving daze that I fell right asleep.
Although I didn’t quite get a full night’s rest-I woke up at 9am to 6 inches worth of space left for me to sleep in-nothing could get me down. I looked out the window and found the sun beginning to peek out from behind the French wintertime’s staple grey clouds. You look good in the sunshine, Nancy.
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| Here's a blurry picture of the crew and I having fun. |
Two alarms and a warm “HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!!” greeting later, the rest of the team was awake (except for Paul...I had to pull a mom move and open the blinds to get him out of bed). We prepared for our day of exploring to the soundtrack of early 2000s pop and the taste of delicious, free hotel tea, so I was a happy camper.
The tea wasn’t really a sufficient breakfast, however, so we filled our stomachs at a nearby boulangerie. My panini took a solid 15 minutes to prepare for reasons that are still unknown, but I’m not mad at you Nancy, I promise. First, we made our way back to a nearby cathedral that we had passed and gawked at the night before. It turned out to be Notre Dame de L’Annonciation, which is just one of the many breathtaking places that make you so beautiful, love. After taking way too many pictures, marveling at the ornate architecture and pondering the reason behind all the pyramid symbols etched into random walls and doors, we were off to look for some sweets.
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| Seriously though, someone explain the pyramid. |
Naturally, we had to buy some French pastries. The problem was that we couldn’t decide which of the obscenely mouthwatering window displays to give in to, so thankfully a kind Frenchman who spoke English pointed us in the right direction (we were walking away when he told us that this was the best place in Nancy, and we were quickly convinced). Thank God he was so persuasive/we were so easily persuaded because I’m not sure that my taste buds will ever be the same after that chocolate slice of heaven. I couldn’t even tell you what I got, but what I know is that it was some sort of chocolate meringue thing that sort of made me want to cry, it was so good. The fact that I ate it at a quaint wrought iron table on the gorgeous Place Stanislas probably helped as well. You’re too good to me, Nancy.
After we walked under Arc Héré, we found ourselves on the cutest street I’ve seen in France, which is a pretty bold statement. It was almost sickening, it was so cute. We passed a boulangerie with a heart-shaped baguette in the window, a fromagerie donning a Christmas-themed teddy bear and a restaurant with an antique bicycle chilling below the second floor window (apparently they have a thing for peculiar yet charming exterior decor on this street). Then, we ran into the best statue I’ve seen so far in this country, which is another bold statement, but I couldn't help but be a fan since it was of my girl Jeanne d’Arc (AKA the original BA independent woman, Joan of Arc).
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| I really don't think that any words can describe how delicious this was. |
The almost uncontrollable quaintness continued as we walked around aimlessly, somehow hitting all the main sites in town without intending to (turns out that we were in the “Ville Vieille,” AKA old town). Who knew that the amazingly intricate exterior of Basilique Saint Epvre, the medieval architectural wonders of Porte de la Craffe and Musée Lorrain and the uniquely teal-colored spires of Palais Ducal were all within five minutes of each other? Well, better-educated tourists would know that, I suppose, but I don’t regret our lack of research. In fact, I think that’s why I’ve come to love you so much Nancy, you’re just so fun to discover.
Before the dark, ominous clouds that had been following us all day decided to discontinue their generous dry spell, we made it to one more church-St. Jean Bosco, which we visited only because because I kept annoyingly telling everyone to “follow the pretty spire”-and one more arch. This one was a memorial, Porte Désilles, which was built to commemorate the citizens of Nancy that died while fighting in the American Revolutionary War. No wonder we felt such as attachment to it.
As the downpour began and every inch of our being was soaked to the core, we decided it was time to head back to the train station. We got there about an hour early, but it was rejuvenating to take refuge inside, especially after I ordered un chocolat chaud avec une tarte citron. You know, because it was Treat Yo Self Day.
Long story short, I have a new place in my heart for you Nancy. You’re sweet, beautiful, easy to navigate and always full of surprises. I don’t think this will be the last time I see you.
Sincerely,
Your Not-So-Secret Admirer
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| Grand Rue under the dark ominous clouds that couldn't get us down because Nancy rocks. |
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