Photo By Jef Nickerson

Well folks, my wife and I have once again decided to pack our belongings up and haul our asses around these United States. For the official record, I have lived in the following places since I entered the world of working for a living at the ripe old age of nineteen:

• Syracuse (1 house)
• Southern California (4 apartments)
• Syracuse (1 house)
• Philadelphia (1 apartment)
• Manhattan (2 apartments)
• Brooklyn (1 apartment)
• Indianapolis (1 house)

That’s eleven moves since I left college, and twelve if you include this new one coming up. That’s .86 moves per year for the last fourteen years.  Yeesh!

We knew Indy was going to be temporary, because we knew Charlotte was going back to school, and there was only a very slim chance that she would choose Indiana University in Bloomington (technically commutable from southern Indianapolis). She received a very generous offer from Brown University, however, and has decided to take it. That means that in late June, we’ll be moving to the lovely city of Providence, Rhode Island where, in addition to pursuing higher education and designing web pages, Charlotte and I will begin the slow but steady process of gorging on fresh New England seafood.

I’m excited because I grew up in Massachusetts and this will be the first time in my life where I can walk into a bar where a Red Sox or Celtics or Patriots game is playing, and know that the majority of the people in there are rooting for the same team. Also maybe I can work on redeveloping the rockin’ accent I had as a youth.

It’s been an interesting couple of years here in Indy, and there’s stuff I will definitely miss when we move (I’ll be doing a whole blog post about that closer to the event). I’ve been able to dedicate a huge amount of time to my writing and my business ventures, which is awesome. I’ve been able to spend lots of time hanging out with some good friends, which is also awesome. And I’ve had the space necessary to learn to brew beer — something that I don’t think would’ve happened if we’d stayed in Brooklyn, with no basement and a relatively tiny kitchen.

I don’t know if Providence will keep us busier, or if I’ll actually have even MORE spare time for projects because Charlotte’s working so much. I guess only time will tell! Either way, we’re going to find out, so I guess it’s time to haul the boxes up out of the basement and start packing again.

In the morning, we headed out for Miami Beach,  taking a leisurely drive toward South Beach. As we got there, it became more and more crowded, and it seemed unlikely that we would be able to find any parking, but we lucked into a space, hopped out, and began exploring on foot.

Check out the Whole Gallery

After wandering around the beach for a bit, we stopped for lunch at a local hotel restaurant, where I had a very tasty Cuban sandwich and Charlotte got a gigantic chopped salad with grilled shrimp. We then proceeded to wander south along Ocean Avenue, which is pretty much dominated by restaurants playing thudding club music while patrons sit in outdoor dining drinking out of ridiculous 32oz margarita glasses. It’s crowded, there are people constantly shoving pamphlets at you, and there’s a lot of skin on display from both sexes. Basically it’s like Times Square, only if everyone was wearing bathing suits, which surprisingly doesn’t make it much less awful than Times Square.

Eventually sick of the crowds, we threaded our way through the art deco neighborhood before returning to our car and heading for Downtown Miami … but that’s another photo-set!

Apparently while we were touring, the Sheriff’s office was also practicing their airboat maneuvers. I guess they need the practice, because they rounded a corner and slammed into a passenger boat, tearing off the back of it and sending several police officers flying into the swamp.

No one died, and none of the civilians were severely injured. One of the deputies, however, apparently lost his toe. Our boat driver was coordinating the rescue efforts on his phone while continuing to point out the sights for us, even as several helicopters, ambulances, and fire engines showed up on the scene.

Check out the gallery!

Very exciting. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of the accident  scene itself. We drove by it on the airboat and Gabe was brave enough to photograph the three severely pissed-off looking police offers stained up to their nipples by swamp water. I was not.

I can only assume the toe ended up in some gator’s belly, and that gator now has a taste for man!

UPDATE: Gabe has sent along the pic of the soaked police officers. Here it is!

To Protect and to Serve

View the whole gallery over at Flickr.

We took some pictures. Here they are.

As is typical, I ended up with the pink drink ...

Charlotte wore a lovely deep-blue dress and lots of stuff that sparkled

Note that we managed to melt part of my hat over a candle.

I'm ... not sure what's going on here.

I love filament light bulbs so much.

Why NOT play all of our party favors at once?

There were a lot of dudes in jeans and sport-coats.

Double your champagne pleasure!

More noise making. Also, I seem to be wearing a tiara.

Nearing the end of the evening. Super cute!

Some drunk girl wanted to take our picture as we were leaving. She seems to be falling over.

Sometimes we experiment with champagne cocktails, and this drink — The ChaChaCha (short for Charlotte’s Champagne and Chartreuse) — came as a result of careful testing with various amounts of liqueur, bitters, and sparkling wine. I must give her full credit on this one: we both played around with a lot of recipes, but she’s the one who found the right balance.

It’s fast, it’s easy, and it’s absolutely delicious. Dry and herbal with a hint of sweetness and a satisfying zing. What more can you ask for from a cocktail?

The Recipe

• .75 oz Green Chartreuse
• Generous Dash of Peychaud’s Bitters
• Extra-Dry Sparkling Wine

Pour the Chartreuse and bitters into a champagne goblet or flute. Top off with sparkling wine. Enjoy!

Yes, this is an actual picture of my actual beer.

Sometimes this blog gets buried underneath all the other crap I have going on in my life, and this past couple of months has definitely been one of those times. I’m a man of many projects, and sometimes I’m so busy working on those projects, I forget to take the time to write about them! Here’s what’s new:

I finished the second draft of Blood Hunt.

Blood Hunt is the sequel to The Blood That Bonds, and the first draft had been hovering over me like the grim specter of death for a couple of years now. I got to 130k words in it, and then just lost the enthusiasm for finishing it, in part because I knew there were major structural errors that needed to be fixed. With the success (so far) of TBTB, it was time to really buckle down and get the thing done. Rather than starting with the first draft, I just restarted the book entirely, rewriting everything (even the stuff I liked), and fixing the issues I had with the original. The finished second draft is 154k long, and I’m currently getting feedback on it from several sources. With that in hand, I should be able to do a final polishing draft and get it out for people to see!

I started brewing my own beer.

Charlotte bought me a book on beer-making for my birthday, and once I read through it, I was anxious to give it a shot. I have one batch done: a nice, if uninspiring brown ale from a kit. I’ve also got one batch bottle-conditioning (my own American Pale Ale recipe), and a third batch in primary fermentation (my own Irish Amber Ale recipe). I’m very excited to try the latter two, because I think they’re going to be bigger, better beers than the one from the kit. In the near future I’m planning on making a Russian Imperial Stout, an American Barley Wine, and maybe a wheat beer as well.

I’m still making cocktails, too.

Got a couple of different ones I’m in the process of perfecting before posting them here. One uses smoky blended scotch (like Jonny Walker Red), and one of them uses three different kinds of rum. Mmmm … rum! I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to distill my own liquor, otherwise I’d strongly consider doing that, too.

I’m setting up and designing cwbuecheler.com

This blog, and many of its associated sub-pages, are going to move there. Writing will be found at writing.cwbuecheler.com and my web portfolio and resume will be found at web.cwbuecheler.com. You’ll be able to easily tab between all three sections with a handy masthead. This is an effort to consolidate my many and varied projects and hobbies under one roof, while making it clear which stuff is a professional offering and which isn’t (at least until I start selling beer, I guess).

Project Fatass

I kind of stopped posting about project fatass since I was basically just sitting at 213 lbs each week. Well, I got my shit together, started eating better, started going to the gym, and I’m currently down from an Indianapolis max of 217 to an Indianapolis min of 194, and dropping. I’ve also put on a bit of muscle and improved my stamina. Yay!

Other Stuff

Still working on Dart Publishing, about to begin the second draft of The Broken God Machine, still publicizing The Blood That Bonds (fairly big news on that coming soon), still playing video games, and still somehow finding time to spend with my wife!

More updates coming once I get this new design finished up. Hoping to put in a lot of hours on that this weekend.

Sunday – May 16th – Albi and Cordes

Charlotte and I wake at 9:45 to her sister Axelle knocking on the door and politely asking us if anyone had told us that we had to be out of the cabin by ten. No … no one had told us that! We leap out of bed and hastily pull on clothes, brush our teeth, and pack up. We’re walking out of the cabin just as an employee comes to check and make sure we’re walking out of the cabin. Good timing!

We’re meeting back at the reception venue for breakfast, so Charlotte and I hop into the car and head in that direction. We’re some of the first people to arrive, but Jerome and Eglantine are already there, getting things rolling. They have some leftover snacks from the wedding, and they’ve added big boxes of croissants, chocolate croissants (called chocolatines in south-western France, and pain au chocolat everywhere else), bread and fruit. They’ve also got pate, cheeses, ham, and a variety of juices and drinks. Pretty solid breakfast! Jerome is working on the coffee, much to everyone’s relief. Charlotte and I help bring stuff out to the tables, and from there everyone just kind of hangs around, eating and drinking, as more and more people show up.

Eventually most of Charlotte’s family moves out onto the steps — the sun is out for what feels like the first time in days and it’s actually warm enough to be outside. Someone finds a pack of balloons, and people spend time inflating those, bouncing them around with some of the kids. An inquisitive nine-year-old on Jerome’s side of the family spends quite some time asking Charlotte questions, many of which are about me being American and unable to speak French.

The party finally breaks apart sometime past noon. Charlotte and I want to go check into our hotel, take showers, and maybe take a nap. We’re staying at the old farmhouse where her parents are staying, for our final night in Albi. It’s a very cool place, and the interiors are modern and comfy (but cold — stone buildings really eat warmth). Charlotte naps while I take a shower, and then I mess around on the computer while she takes hers. We decide that we’re going to go to the nearby town of Cordes, which is built along the side of a hill and is really quite pretty, where we’ll find a cafe and spend a couple of hours reading and laptopping. Since we’re not planning on touring, I neglect to bring the camera. Oops!

That not-touring plan lasts until we get to the first cafe in Cordes, where the owner pisses Charlotte off by bitching when she asks for change to feed the parking meter (which wants €2.50 for two hours, on a Sunday, which is ridiculous to begin with). So we decide the hell with that cafe, and start into the town. This turns into an hour-long walk through the steep, winding streets of the town, checking out some amazing architecture and stopping in a few artisan and souveniere shops along the way. Not exactly the restful experience we’d been planning, but the town is amazing and we’re glad to have seen it. We stop at a cafe at the top of the hill, where Charlotte gets a tea and I have “un demi” — a 25cl glass of beer (about 8oz). We relax for a bit and the head back down to where we parked.

From there we head back to the hotel and have dinner at their “restaurant” (the owners of the place also do the cooking and serving). I had planned on bringing my laptop back there to use the internet for a bit (they don’t have in-room wifi), but that instead turns into Charlotte and I falling asleep at about 9:30 at night. I guess the wedding, coupled with the short sleep, coupled with the overall exhaustion that comes from having visited half a dozen towns in as many days, conspired to tire us out!

[Pictures from Day Nine]

Monday – May 17th – Albi to Barcelona

It’s my last day in France, and Charlotte’s last day in Albi. She’s headed with her parents northward, to their home in Fontainebleau, and then to Paris for her final exams. I’m headed back to Barcelona, to drop off the rental car and stay one last night at a hotel near the airport before flying out in the morning. We start the day off by having breakfast with her parents, along with Eglantine and Jerome. Coffee, juice, croissants, bread, butter, jam … mmm! We spend a good amount of time chatting and laughing before Eglantine and Jerome head off, while Charlotte and I go to pack up our stuff, and her parents pack up theirs. We load up the car and take a short walk together, checking out some of the grounds and stopping at a lilly pond to watch the frogs sunning themselves.

Allow me to be sentimental for a moment … Charlotte and I aren’t going to see each other for three and a half weeks, which is the longest we’ve been apart since we first met in person (when I flew to Paris to visit, came back and had to wait a month before her move to the US). Neither of us are thrilled about this, but we can’t afford for me to stay in France indefinitely, and honestly she needs the time to study without distraction, so that’s how it’s gotta be. We head back to the cars and say our goodbyes. As I’m typing this, she’s preparing for the second of her final exams, and I’ve still got 15 days to go before I see her again. Bleh!

From here on out, I’m on my own. I get in the car and head back toward Albi. I have a bunch of maps available, should I get lost, but it turns out not to be a problem: within ten minutes, I come to a roundabout with a sign pointing toward Toulouse. That puts me on a big highway, and from there I’ll spend the next four and a half hours following highway signs without trouble, all the way back to Barcelona, with a couple of stops along the way for gas, coffee, and diet coke.

The return trip takes me back past several of the cities we visited. I drive by the pink bricks of Toulouse, and later the walled old city of Carcassonne. It feels a little like visiting old friends. “Hey, how ya doing? Nice to see you again. I gotta run, but I’ll be back soon!” Then the highway takes me towards Narbonne, on the coast, before veering south and taking me past Perpignan and into the Pyrenees foothills. I can see the same snow-capped mountains, climbing the hill into Spain, that we saw coming down it eight days ago. I clear the toll booths and customs without problem, and bid France “au revoir” as the radio stations I’ve been flipping through (hunting for music I actually recognize) begin to switch from French to Spanish.

Finally I reach Barcelona, where I encounter a little bit of traffic (it’s just about 5:30 PM by now), but nothing too horrific, probably because I’m driving into the city and not out of it. I worry that I’ve missed a turn a few times, but each time just as I’m becoming convinced something’s gone terribly awry, I see another sign for the airport. Eventually I make my way on to a big highway pointed towards terminals one and two, from which I can see the hotel I’ll be staying at. As I exit to get to the hotel, I drive by the back of the Sixt Rental Car building where I need to drop off my car. Awesome. This whole trip has gone perfectly, from a driving standpoint.

Famous last words … I make it to the hotel and check in just fine, unloading the whole car in the process. Then I get back in so that I can make the short drive over to Sixt. However, the entire area I’m in is not only littered with one-way roads (a staple in Barcelona, even outside of the city where there’s plenty of space), but also under construction. For the next NINETY MINUTES, I drive my car around and around and around, getting on and off highways, trying surface road after surface road, hoping to get to the Sixt buildings. I see it from every angle. I am often within 100 yards of it. I just can’t get to it. I become frustrated, then angry, then absolutely enraged, then plaintative, and finally just kind of shocked and dismayed. At one point, I drive BACKWARDS down a one-way street four about an eighth of a mile, but there’s no entrance on that road. Argh!

I finally find my way into Sixt. The entrance was clear and obvious all along: all I had to do was IGNORE A DO NOT ENTER SIGN and turn onto a road that was marked as one way, but was actually two ways. Stupid me, right? After 90 minutes of driving, I finally drop off my car, and then walk back to the hotel. The walk takes three minutes. I go upstairs, get my laptop, go to the hotel bar, and order a well-deserved beer. It’s later than I expected, and I have to get up at six in the morning, so I don’t stick around too long — just enough to grab dinner and answer a few emails. Then it’s up to bed.

I’ll spare you most of the details of the flight back. It was an entirely unexciting trip, which is fine … generally I’m not looking for “exciting” on plane flights. My seat on the international flight had a power plug for my laptop, so I’m able to use it the entire time, which is great. Then I spend five hours in the Atlanta airport before hopping on a plane to Indy. My friend Gabe picks me up, and drops me off, where the cats are thrilled to see me and spend the next few hours climbing on top of me, while I sleep on the couch.

The Great European Tour of 2010 is over. It was a good time (except being sick), and we saw some amazing stuff. I’m really looking forward to getting back to Toulouse when it’s not freezing, rainy, and a national holiday. I also suspect I’ll be back to Carcassonne at some point, and probably Albi as well. Barcelona was fascinating and I could see spending more time there too. In all, Spain and Southern France left a very good impression. I’m glad I went, look forward to going back, and would recommend the trip to anyone. For now, though, I’m happy to be back in the land of large coffees and stuff that’s open late!

[No Pictures, Sorry!]

Friday – May 14th – Albi Civil Ceremony

In the morning, Charlotte gets up and goes to the bank. She’s got some money that’s been sitting in a French account for a few years, but the process for releasing it is arduous and much better done in person, so she’s going to give it a shot while we’re here. As she heads out, I get up and take a shower, then take a walk, meeting her at a local cafe. The person who would be able to help her wasn’t there, so she’ll have to come back at ten the next morning. Alas! We drink coffee and then wander off, deciding to get a to-go lunch somewhere and bring it back to the hotel.

“Somewhere” turns out to be the bakery across the street. Charlotte grabs a panini and I, still somewhat wary of food, just take a piece of brioche with some sugar crystals on top of it. Tasty! We head back to the hotel, eat our food, and get dressed for the civil ceremony. We’ve been told to keep it semi-casual, so I opt for jeans and a button-down, which accomplishes the goal of making me neither the most nor the least dressed-up person there. Charlotte wears a dress, but pulls a cardigan over it to help de-formalize it. We get to the town hall early (our hotel is like two minutes away), so we walk back up the road a little bit and stop at yet another cafe for some coffee. Eventually we return to the town hall and meet up with friends and family.

We mill around the town hall’s courtyard for a while, waiting for everyone to arrive and for the wedding ceremony ahead of us to finish up. We’re alerted that this has happened when a bunch of dudes suddenly come out of the front door and hold up golf clubs, forming an arch for the bride and groom to walk under. It’s … an unexpected happening. That party disperses, and we make our way upstairs. The Civil Ceremony is short and sweet, with a focus placed on signing documents and agreeing to things. Everyone cheers the now officially married — in the eyes of France — couple, and we return to the courtyard for more pictures and talking.

Eventually we decide to head for … hold on for a surprise … a cafe! It’s early evening by this point, so most people grab a beer or similar. Charlotte has a Kir Cassis, which is white wine mixed with blackberry liqueur. Yum. I get a Leffe Blonde, and we snack on olives and chat with Charlotte’s siblings, cousins, and others. Jerome and Eglantine, the newlyweds, wander from table to table talking with everyone. Eventually we’re all freezing to death, and many people go home. The rest of us move inside and hang out for a while longer.

Charlotte and I excuse ourselves to go back to the hotel so that she can study a bit. We’ve made plans to go to dinner with all of her siblings except Eglantine, so that Charlotte and her other sisters can work on the details of their wedding speech. We’re having dinner at a hotel on the outskirts of Albi, which is actually a set of old farmhouses that have been converted to lodging by their owners. It’s also the place that Charlotte’s mom and dad are staying, along with her sister Nolwenn, brother-in-law Fred, and their two kids. We nearly get lost on the way, but manage to find the place just in time — everyone else has already ordered their appetizers! The meal is very tasty, and the ladies get in some good discussion about their speech for Eglantine. Tired and excited for tomorrow’s religious ceremony and reception, we head out, returning to our hotel and crashing for the night.

[Pictures from Day Seven]

May 15th – Albi (Wedding)

Eglantine’s wedding ceremony isn’t until 4:30 in the afternoon, which means Charlotte and I can spend the morning doing a necessary errand: Laundry. She had to bring so many books and stuff along with her on this trip that there was just no way for both of us to pack a full 12+ days worth of clothing (including a complete suit for yours truly). We’re rapidly running out of clean clothes, and don’t like the idea of having to hit the laundromat the day after the wedding, so we decide to do it today.

Charlotte has another bank meeting set up. We hop in the car with our suitcase full of dirty clothes, and I drop her off at the bank. I’m supposed to find parking near the laundromat and get started, and Charlotte will meet me there. What actually happens is that I drive through the winding streets of Albi for half an hour without finding a single parking space. I finally give up and pay for parking in a garage about ten feet from where I dropped Charlotte off in the first place, and walk the rest of the way to the laundromat. Charlotte is waiting for me there, and helpfully points out that two spaces have just opened up right in front of it! I resist the urge to shake my fist at the heavens, and we head into the laundromat. It’s totally automated and unattended, but it’s open, and that’s all we need. We get our laundry going, and sit around drinking diet coke and eating something which is exactly like Pocky, but has a different name.

Charlotte heads out to run another errand, and I hang out at the laundromat, messing around on my laptop and waiting for our clothes to dry. Eventually they do, and I fold them up and put them back in the suitcase. Charlotte arrives a few minutes later, and we head out, dropping the suitcase in the car and making a quick diversion into central Albi to look for a hair decoration for Charlotte. We find a place that sells several, and she settles on a clip with a bunch of black feathers in it. Satisfied, we return to the hotel to get into our wedding best, stopping at the same bakery as the day before to get sandwiches for lunch. We eat at the hotel, Charlotte does some studying, I do some internet browsing, and eventually it’s time to get ready.

Once dressed up, we check out of the hotel, get back in the car, and head for the Cathedral. It’s not far away, and we’re one of the first cars to get there, so we spend some time hanging out in the parking lot and chatting with the other guests that arrived early, several of whom are Charlotte’s aunts and uncles on her Mother’s side. Eventually everyone arrives, and we make our way into the church and get seated. Soon the ceremony begins. One of Charlotte’s uncles is officiating, and there’s a lot more singing, praying, and bible reading than there was in the civil ceremony. Trying to sing along with songs I’ve never heard in a language I don’t speak proves to be comedy gold, but I do my best.

Soon the happy couple are happily married for the second time in two days, and everyone greets them outside with confetti and road flares … for some reason that seems unclear even to the two dudes who are wielding them. Blanketed in smoke from the flares, people cough and squint, but are generally happy. It’s very cold out, however, and all of the women are freezing. Most of them end up covered in jackets and unable to show off their outfits. Alas!

Charlotte and I end up near the back of the group of cars heading to the reception. This is slightly problematic, because we don’t know where it is, so we’re a bit concerned about losing track of the caravan. We manage not to, which is fine, right up until we realize we’ve followed a group of people to a small campground where they’ve all rented cabins. They’re there to change! D’oh. Charlotte and I strike back out on the road, calling her sister and getting directions, which summed up are basically: Turn left at this tiny village, and then drive into the middle of French farmland for like half an hour, and then you’ll be there. We manage to find the place, a big stone structure that was probably built when Jesus was still a teenager, and park. Somehow we beat a huge chunk of the guests there, and manage to arrive just as Eglantine and Jerome are having their first champagne toast. Everyone applauds, and then sets about eating hors d’oeuvres, drinking champagne, and chatting.

France in mid-May is generally beautiful but unfortunately we caught it on a grey, cold week, and the wedding day is no exception. It’s freezing out, and everyone is bundled up. Thankfully the courtyard is protected by heavy stone walls on three sides, easily 20 feet high, which keep the wind away. The venue’s main staircase makes an excellent place to take pictures, and Charlotte and I get pulled into a few, in between champagne and snacks. Eventually night falls, and the guests move indoors for dinner and to warm up (there are space heaters inside!).

Dinner consists of four courses — fois gras appetizer, pot roast main course, salad and cheese course, and the cake. Having stuffed myself on hors d’oeuveres, it’s a challenge to make it through dinner, but I manage to at least try everything! During this time, many people make speeches (including Charlotte and her sisters) and there are two slide-shows of pictures from the bride and groom’s youth. Eglantine and Jerome cut the cake, there’s more champagne toasting, and then some of the guests begin to head out. The DJ takes this as a sign, drops the lights, cranks the music, and a couple of people clear and move some tables to make dancing space. For the next hour or so, Charlotte and I dance (her well, me poorly), and then we decide it’s time to head for our lodgings.

This proves to be somewhat more difficult than expected. As it turns out, the place we’re staying that night is a cabin at the very same campground that we had earlier turned into. This is not in itself a big deal, but what IS a big deal is that the road to the cabins is only drivable until ten PM. Given that it’s some godawful hour in the early morning, Charlotte and I have to park in the front parking lot and then stumbling along the winding road. It is pitch black out and we have only her blackberry and my laptop computer to use as flashlights, while also hauling suitcases and carry-on bags. We furtively wander up to cabin after cabin, trying to find the one that is ours. Naturally, it is the one at the very furthest reaches of the road, and down a small grass hill. Exhausted, we stumble inside. It’s not as rustic as I expect, but it is very small. We quickly find a bed, and almost immediately pass out.

[Pictures from Day Eight - Ceremony]
[Pictures from Day Eight - Reception]

In the morning, I feel less nauseous but my whole body feels like it’s full of ground glass. Fun! Still, I want to see some of Toulouse, even though it’s still grey and cold out, not to mention a French holiday. Undeterred, we wander first to a cafe, and then to the Saint-Sernin Basilica. This structure is the largest Romanesque church in Europe, and it’s quite impressive! It’s built in a cross shape, but has many rounded walls that look like overlapping cylinders. It also has a huge tower which was added on to over multiple periods in history and thus features 12th century Romanesque architecture, 14th century gothic architecture, and a 15th century spire. It also, apparently, has one of the most beautiful pipe organs in the world inside of it … but unfortunately it’s closed, so we can’t see that. D’oh!

Once we’ve circled the Basilica, we head down the Rue du Taur (Road of the Bull), which leads directly from Saint-Sernin to the Capitol Plaza. This is a huge central square that’s mostly empty at the moment, but does have a small outdoor market in one corner. At the far end is the Capitol Building, which is a gigantic structure made out of the pink brink that Toulouse is famous for. We were hoping to get inside but it, like almost everything else, appears to be closed. The moral of this story is: Charlotte and I are going to need to get back to Toulouse at some point!

We start making our way back to our hotel, stopping by a park to check out some more scenery, when the sky finally decides to stop spitting down the occasional rain drops, and really let go. It goes from dry to pouring in rapid fashion, and Charlotte and I find ourselves huddled underneath an awning at the very cafe where we’d previously had breakfast. Eventually the rain dies down a bit, and we head for the hotel. Along the way we find a gigantic indoor market, and there are few things in the world that excite Charlotte more than indoor markets, so we stroll through that, checking out the stalls. Most of them are getting ready to leave but there’s still plenty of fish, cheese, veggies and other good stuff on display! Eventually we make it back to the hotel, hop in the car, and head for our final destination: Albi.

We find our way to the town without much difficulty. It’s only about a 40 minute drive northeast of Toulouse, almost all of it on a major highway. Unfortunately it’s still cold and rainy out, which is never the best thing for Charlotte’s mood. We decide that lunch and coffee should help her feel better, and stop off at a cafe. She calls her sister to let her know we’re in town, and we’re shortly surprised by Jerome, Charlotte’s soon-to-be Brother-in-Law, who swings by the cafe to say a quick hello before heading out again. Charlotte gets a croque madame, and I get some kind of chicken sandwich on a baguette, and we eat, and head off to find our hotel.

The sandwich was the first food I’ve had in about 24 hours and even though I only ate half of it, by the time I got to the hotel I am feeling pretty awful. The hotel itself doesn’t make us feel any better — it’s about as budget as budget can get, featuring a room that’s barely big enough to hold the full-sized bed, and which smells overwhelmingly of men’s cologne. On opening the bathroom door, we’re greeted by a tiny, cramped bathroom pod which also reeks … this time of mildew. Awesome. There’s no one on duty at the desk downstairs (we checked in at a kiosk) and their help line doesn’t open until 5 PM, so Charlotte and I wait around in the room hoping we can get switched. I kind of semi-pass-out on the bed, and eventually wake up feeling better. Five o’clock rolls around and Charlotte calls the help line … which is broken. Unsure what else to do, and unwilling to spend the night in a room that smells like wet mold and cologne, we get online and book a new hotel elsewhere in Albi. Then we pack up and head out.

Naturally as soon as we get downstairs, a hotel attendant shows up at the front desk. Charlotte and I explain that the room smelled awful and that we waited to try and switch rooms but weren’t able to, and had to book a new room elsewhere. The attendant, or manager, or whoever she is basically goes “no refunds!” and her demeanor makes it clear that she’s not going to argue with us. Charlotte and I decide to take it up with customer service, and head out to our new hotel. It proves to be not much larger, but it’s better-located, nicer-looking AND doesn’t smell terrible. Win!

We relax there for a bit longer, and then talk to Eglantine again, who says she’ll come over and pick us up so we can hang out with Charlotte’s family at her place. This sounds good to us, and for the next couple of hours, we hang out at Eglantine and Jerome’s apartment. It’s a nice place, quite spacious, which is good because we’re fitting not only Eglantine, Jerome, their son Alexandre, their dog, Charlotte and I, but also Charlotte’s parents, her sister Nolwenn, brother-in-law Fred, niece Valentine, nephew Gabriel, and two of Eglantine’s friends! Much French is spoken, very little of which I understand, but that’s ok. I amuse myself by watching Valentine run around with Charlotte’s pocket camera, taking pictures of people’s feet and laughing hysterically.

Eventually the crowd disperses, and we head back to our hotel, ready to get some sleep. Tomorrow: the Civil Ceremony!

[Pictures from Day Six]