On Sunday we agreed to move into a flat a stone's throw from Welly Stadium for a few weeks with some friendly French boys we met along our travels. It's a nice reprieve from the chaotic and sometimes hostile hostel environment, it's also cheaper, which is sweet. However, instead of the multi-lingual chorus I hear in hostels, my life has become inundated with incomprehensible French chatter, music, movies and jokes.
Fortunately, I do not need a dictionary to translate the language of gastronomy.
It is Katie and I and four Frogs, three of whom are chefs and the other always manages to bring home delicious food from the boutique hotel in which he works. Additionally, anything I cook, “is not the French taste”, thus absolving me of future culinary duties.
If you will notice in the photo above there are shuttered windows in all of the bedrooms thus negating one of the principle function of walls- to provide privacy and muffle sounds. “fucking stupid Kiwi architects”, is often muttered around our flat. Tip toes and tiny flashlights become essential during the night, so as not to disturb anyone sleeping.
um this looks amazing and i want to see more pictures. weirdest apt ever!!!! xoxoxox
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