Montpellier: You's All

Montpellier was a queer little place, and not in the gay way.  It was queer in that French way, which init of itself is not the easiest thing to elaborate upon, but Lord knows I'll try my hardest.  Not since our time with Inna in London had we couch-surfed with someone that wasn't native to the city we were staying in.  Here on the French Riviera, we found ourselves in the residence of two someones, neither of which called Montpellier home. Their names were Elsabeth and Aina and they were both students studying abroad for a year.  Elsabeth was a fair-skinned, skinny Irish girl with sparse light freckles and and the kind of dark-red hair that almost looks brown and that some would call auburn.  She was from a small town just outside Dublin and carried with her a thick rural Irish accent.  She spoke soft though, and so it was pretty and very endearing, especially because she seemed to always speak with a smile.  And she had a natural inclination to saying "you's all" like some Southern belle.


Aina was from Madagascar, a former French colony, and her English was just slightly better than my French (still not very good) so Elsabeth often times played the part of translator.  It was a task she greeted with open arms and the cutest French accent.  Since it was summer and school was out, they both worked jobs during the day, and Elsabeth sometimes played basketball at a nearby park court.  This was something Max was mighty keen on joining in on but, regrettably, never did.  Still, he's quite confident he would've dominated, Dirk style.  And, I mean, come on.  It was France.  And it was basketball, not poetry.  Needless to say, we had those few days in Montpellier mostly to ourselves.