You're American? We should get married!

That's what the a-little-bit-too-helpful man on the side of the road said when I pulled over on my bike to look at my map on the way to Giverny. I took a day trip there [toute seule] today to see Monet's gardens. The train ride from Paris was only about 40 minutes. Once at the station in Vernon, I rented a bicycle for the day to see some countryside, enjoy the fresh air, and spare myself a stuffy shuttle ride with a bunch of old American tourists. I wasn't lost--I hadn't gotten far enough from the train station to get lost. But this guy insisted that he could help me find my way. So I cautiously followed him to the corner of the street, and he pointed me in the right direction. Thirty minutes later, after several honking car horns, lots of roundabouts, a half dozen pastures with grazing cows and horses, and terrible thoughts that the man had told me bad directions in order to follow me and trap me and force me to be his wife, I arrived safely (and unwed) in Giverny.

It was STUNNING! Monet's gardens look just like his paintings--a beautiful, blurry mesh of color. I bought a guide book from the information office, then proceeded to wander around Giverny. When I finally made my way to the famous water lilly garden, the line extended about a hundred meters from the entrance. "It's like the Vatican," said the French woman behind me in line. I started eating the sandwich I packed for lunch, and just as I was taking my last bite, one of the guards came through the line and told anyone who wanted to to follow him to another entrance. And just like that, I went from being the bazillionth person in line to being the fourth! Sweet.

I entered the garden, and proceeded to take just over 200 photographs (216 to be exact). Everything was so vibrant that it was impossible to take a bad picture. It's the kind of place where everyone and their mother can take a postcard quality photo just by haphazardly pointing their camera and shooting. After the garden, I ambled around Monet's house for a bit, but it was cramped and crowded with tourists, and thus not very enjoyable.

With about three hours to spare before my train back to Paris, I retrieved my bicycle and searched for someplace to pass some time. I found a cute little café with paintings from local artists on display and for sale on the walls, and had a glass of cidre that was made just down the road from the café! Apparently Giverny produces cidre! I took over a table, did a little reading, wrote a few things down, and reveled in the satisfaction of a successful solo excursion.

Lest you worry that it is unsafe to travel alone, allow me to share a few tips I've picked up along the way: To combat ridiculously persistent French people [surtout les hommes], a.) try to ignore them by reading a book. If that doesn't work, then b.) pretend like you don't speak or understand French. And if that fails, then resort to c.) straight up lie. "Yes, in fact, I AM engaged, I just left my fiancé back in America," or "Well you know, I just remembered that I DO have someone waiting for me back home, sorry." It works every time.

[pictures tomorrow]