Biarritz: Day 3--the sunglass blues

Today, I have news to report. But first, a disclaimer you must keep in mind: the city of Biarritz is where the Parisian's vacation. So, imagine this: Paris, the city of love, goes on vacation...to Biarritz. You should have a clear mental picture at this point.

So, I have never before in my life wanted to be in love so badly as I did today. And, I have never before in my life been so convinced that the reason I'm not (and not even close) is because I have ugly sunglasses. Yes, ugly sunglasses. You would think that I would come to Europe and be swept away by the culture, by the international speak, and by an international prince disguised in commoner's clothing, prancing up and down the boardwalk, waiting for me to pass by so he can steal just a glimpse of my smile. Nope. The fact is, I have ugly sunglasses that are about 3 years old and only cost me about $10 and that's all that prince-charming-in-cognito sees.

I've seriously thought about this, examining every possible scenario. It's certainly not because I am overweight. For heaven's sake, I am in the skinny-capital of the world and am living on a diet rich in natural, wholistic foods, all of whose calories are burned every time I run errands, since I walk everywhere. And, it's certainly not because I am not friendly. People look at me funny here because I smile at everyone. I'm like the busrider on the Metro headed into the big city for jury duty who trys to chat with her neighbor, inquiring about the weather, the latest developments in politics, the dreadfully slow construction in city ______, or any other small-talk topic, when all of a sudden, her neighbor turns to her and says, "you have jury duty, don't you?" And she shuts up immediately as she realizes she's the only one on the Metro talking. That's me, the over-excited American tourist sans fanny pack.

So, it's obviously NOT me that's the problem. Therefore, it's the sunglasses.

I spent the morning and early afternoon with the family roaming the coastline on the boardwalk, meandering our way over to the Roxy Women's World Championship Surfing Competition, and then stopping at what must be the world's largest meat factory, all while wearing my sunglasses. Later, I took the boys to the beach, wearing my sunglasses. Then, this evening, I walked over to another beach, where there was a concert (scout, you would have loved this one!), still wearing my sunglasses. I rather enjoyed the concert, the fireworks bursting behind and above the landmark Phare Lighthouse that I saw on the walk back, and the repose I took on the great wall lining the Grand Plage beach. The sky was brilliantly lit by the sun today, and the moon's halo made for a peaceful "promenade" (walk) back to the apartment.

I have to admit that I pretty much spent the perfectly romantic day, except without the romance. But, one day I will wear new sunglasses, chic sunglasses, and it will not be my purse in my right hand, but his hand in my right hand. I will not watch fireworks alone, but will savor them, wrapped up in him just enough to be able to hear his heart beat.

I've gotta get new sunglasses.