I hereby present you with …

Albi and Updates.

Important updates.

Such as my Delta Delta Delta run-in, in Reims. If anyone actually happens to be curious, the above picture is the Porte de Mars. I’m attempting to be funny (I did say attempt), which can also be seen in some post from a week or so ago.

This Triple D pic might just be Trident submission worthy … although, unfortunately I look a little weird.

And if you click on it — please don’t — but if you already have, you’ll know what I mean when I say that my expression is kind of blah and strange, but that’s because of my mouth, which is in between a smile.

It’s more like “huh”. And that is because Maman didn’t warn me she was taking the pic.

See. I’m choosy about pics. If you knew just how choosy, you’d be shocked that I actually posted this one. Seeing as this is the sole Tri Delta picture proof I have, I’m pretty much optionless. Forget pretty much. I am.

However, the fact that I actually am considering submitting it to the Tri Dent should be the most shocking thing of all.

I wasn’t your typical sorority girl.

In fact, I was called in to Exec one Sunday evening, to be warned that my DDD Sistership was on the line.

That’s right, my own fellow sisters wanted to kick me out.

They were just too flimsy to say it straight. But I wasn’t.

While I was assured, I wasn’t trying to be kicked out, I was told that I needed to become “a more active sister.”

You can imagine what my response was to that.

F THAT!

I quickly called their bluff. What I knew, was that above all, they needed my dues money. I’d never be kicked out.

If I sound like a jaded sorority sista, I really don’t mean to … I made some incredible friends, whom I’m still friends with — I know, an impressive feat.

It’s just that after a couple years, I was over the partying, the date nights, and most of all, the Sigma Chi’s. Yes, they were (probably still are) brutally hot.

But what self respecting girl is going to date any boy who is so full of himself and takes longer to get ready for an evening out? Not to mention, does his hair.

Enough said.

Onto Albi.

Albi was along our Southern France route. This was a suggestion, from Brother’s own personal fascination (i.e. past life) with it. I google’d it and was sold.

It was another one of those heart palpitation induced drives. With lots of reminders from Maman NOT to stop. I didn’t really listen.

Upon our arrival, I knew, just like Puy, that I didn’t stand a chance in finding our B&B.

I pulled over at the first place I could: Le Casino.

Despite the name, it’s actual a grocery store. There’s a whole chain of them in France.

And I called Villa Mandarine. I was greeted by a very deep sounding Frenchman on the other end of the line.

I took a deep breath, and gave it my best shot.

My response?

One: Attendez (wait!).

And about five shouts to the background (in French, of course): English! We need English please!

Was I really that bad?

Enter Corinne.

I instantly was taken by her calm voice and very charming English.

She would be right there to get us. She assured me that: you’ll never be able to find it. There! So I was right about Google driving directions not being accurate.

Personally coming for us! My dream come true.

When she found us at Le Casino, the first thing she did was shake her head and ask why we were in such a big car in such a small place.

I opened my mouth to tell her, but she continued on, saying that she hoped it would somehow fit inside their driveway.

Please don’t make me park it. Please don’t make me park it. One cramped Renault lot was stressful enough.

After what seemed like hauling ass for 15 minutes through tiny, narrow streets and twisting and turning our way through multiple zig zags, we arrived at Villa Mandarine. She was right, we never would have been able to find it.

It was gorgeous. Don’t let the website fool you, it definitely does not do the place justice, and for the record – Corinne and Michel were delightful hosts, extremely warm and welcoming.

Miraculously, after a 13 point turn, I did have the car parked. I was going to ask Corinne to do it, but Maman gave me a pep talk, and then proceeded to freak out on me every time I made one small turn. Was it ever a tight fit. There wasn’t even room for her husband’s car.

I had just finished parking when Corinne asked if I wanted to: respose myself by the pool.

Hell yeah I did. How perfect.

But before my swim, I reposed with some yoga. The other guests that were there couldn’t stop staring at me. Had I not been so fully clothed, I would have assumed that was the reason why.

No, they were just that un-used to the sight of an odd americane getting her yoga on poolside.

After reposing, it was time for dinner. Really, I was ready for bed. But I had to eat. This girl can’t go without a meal.

Maman and I found a very charming outdoor cafe. We were seated at table 310, which I instantly took as a wonderful message from The Universe for me. Thank you, Universe. I was feeling the love.

I only had two glasses of wine (probably four by American standards), but apparently it was enough to get us lost on the way home.

Maman and I found ourselves in the only argument of the whole trip: which way to go. It lasted maybe five minutes before I burst out laughing.

Really, are we really going to fight over whose right and whose wrong on which way to go?

I was very humored. And even more humored that I had to pee on someone’s lawn/sidewalk.

I never would have done it had it not been an emergency! But I just couldn’t hold it any longer. I happen to drink an unnaturally large amount of water. Plus that vino.

Maman didn’t see the humor in any of this till, 30 minutes later, we made it back to the Villa.

I awoke the next morning anxious to check out the sites.

After a fabulous breakfast where everything was home made, from the breads and croissants to the yogurt — I have never had such incredible plain yogurt before — I was all coffee’d up and ready to go.

I had full intentions of checking out Albi’s famous cathedral, Saint Cecile, right away but was quickly sidetracked by oh so many fabulous shops.

It’s all those striking store windows. Everything looks so chic and downright fabulous, that you get sucked right in.

Two hours, one cashmere scarf and one set of incredibly captivating yet comfy yet sexy open toed shoes later, I made it. We made it.

As Maman said, this just might be the most uniquely impressive cathedral. Ever.

It is the only ALL BRICK cathedral in the world. It’s imposing. It’s majestic. It’s UNESCO.

That’s right, another World Heritage Site.

It’s all about the WHS’s.

I was head over heels. In architectural love and awe.

I cannot even begin to tell you what it’s like to look at, look up to and just take in a brick cathedral of this size.

The brick is so striking and so different from anything I had previously seen and experienced.

Construction of Saint Cecile began in 1282, meant to be “a fortress symbolizing the power of the Catholic Church.”

Mission completed.

It’s a towering fortress alright, exuding power and presence.

Those Catholics knew what they were doing.