Day 99

It's day 99. I'm sitting at my table, looking at the house across the street. It is not the most beautiful in the sense that it needs some freshening up, and there is one blind that has been half lifted and crooked. Still, it doesn't matter because I'm here, at my table, after a week of testing recipes with pine nuts and pistachios, writing, meeting, and spending time with a family that left Lyon deep in their hearts. I walked with them to our favorite places, eating our beloved foods, and trying to remember my first time in Lyon.

I do remember those days. We stayed in the 2nd arrondissement. On those warm days, I finally wore my Amoralle dress that I could not wear in Latvia. Every evening we walked up the stairs and down again to dinner, talking about what a beautiful place this would be to live in. It took us eight years to fulfill that dream that rose in the air on that first trip, so I do not mind that house across from me. Yes, it needs to be lit up, but it could stay like that, as long as I'm here.

Tomorrow it's Saturday - market day – I'll be attending in the company of my dear Paula because Armands is out of the country. Finally, to make sure I can carry those organics down the hill and back home, I have bought our market stroller. I used to have one back in Latvia, and I used precisely once and never again – the looks I got from people. It seemed inappropriate to think that in my early 30s, I could have something like that, but here, even the most elegant men and women have one because it's so useful. Yet, it took me two whole months to finally buy it, watching all those who use market strollers in the city to ensure that having one meant - we would belong.

It's 6 pm. With vanilla-infused white tea in a cup, I’m writing this, waiting for my glass of white wine that will start the evening. It's the day when dinner will be served later because our local pizzeria opens only at 7 pm. So, apero is essential, especially on a Friday evening. A pack of local chips is waiting, as well as some sausages (saucissons here in France) and olives. I will pour myself a glass of wine and some lemonade for the girls, and warm pizza will be delivered by us to the table. Nothing much but being here feels like so much. Much more than I could have expected.

Dress by Lindex