The day I biked up a Hill and got Condoms

So French welcome events are very…interesting. The latest involved biking all over town, praying that I wouldn’t die on the tiny dirt trail with a 6-ft drop-off straight into traffic, looking for tents with questionnaires and prizes.

Before biking ten million miles. Note how blissfully happy we look.

Prizes, like condoms. After answering questions about “le gynocologist,” we received a packet of condoms (below, note the picture on front). The friendly French photographer then insisted we take a picture, proudly holding our prizes. I’m not actually in the picture, however, since I’m doubled over trying to catch my breath from laughing.

I hate to say that it's playing into a stereotype but REALLY?!

We then proceeded to bike up THE LONGEST HILL IN TOURS (with the people in cars on the road shouting “allee, allee!” and laughing) until we got to the ending point where we had the most amazing hot dogs in the world (on baguettes), carrot salad, couscous, potatoes, chips, drinks, and fresh chocolate eclairs, hung out with out new German friends, and listened to the band by as the sun went down.

After. Note how (a) sweaty and (b) happy to be done we are.
Hot dogs in France are amazing. Normally I hate mystery meat, but here? Delicious.

After, more shenanigans ensued in which we met Jimmy Hendrix from LA (alternatively known, 5 minutes later, as Bob from Boston) and his tiny friend D.J. P.

You never know what will happen here: condoms are prizes at University, hot dogs are delicious, and dead musicians come back to life

Can I stay forever?

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