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Some of my good friends don’t make a date to meet again

During the years of traveling around European roads, I have been helped by many good people. Without them, my trips would have lacked a lot of colors. Those who show the way, give a ride to the car, tell a good restaurant, a nice place to visit, count up. More interesting is the enthusiastic reception of “bridging” friends, giving them a nap, cooking together and visiting across the alleyways where they live. But strangely, the unconditional enthusiastic help of those who do not meet. Having experienced such moments, it is understood how “brotherhoods and sisters”. Today’s story is dedicated to two good people who did not meet in a memorable trip to the beautiful little city of South France Aix-en-Provence.

Among the photos promoting tourism in France, the beautiful camera angles of the purple lavender fields are vastly immense. In fact, this flower is grown in many parts of the world, but it is probably not famous anywhere in the south of France. As an unwritten rule, to find out about lavender is to find this place. Just like wanting to taste sushi, you must go to Japan or enjoy Flamenco, you need to visit Spain. The default is that! My girlfriend loved purple and the scent of lavender so I always wanted to set foot in the south of France. So love led her (I followed) to the beautiful land called French, reading the mouth of Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur.

The plane landed at Marseille Provence airport in the middle of the summer afternoon in August. The two children were carrying a small suitcase and holding a small suitcase, sweating sweat and looking at the bus station. I did not know French and my friend was only a little babble but it was not difficult to follow the signs that were arranged very clearly and scientifically. It’s a lot of money to go out to play, but it also gives us lots of good skills, one of which is reading fast and standard signs.

The bus turned on the air-conditioner at full capacity in contrast to the heat of the people outside, gliding around the highway leading into the city center. On both sides of the road, almost all sandy soil and many black and dry dead trees burned with a blinding yellow color. It must be the outdoor temperature choking on the number 40. The hot landscape suddenly reminds me of the old summer days of fieldwork along the central coast of Vietnam: sunshine like fire and big bare sand dunes nothing more than a cascade of casuarina trees.

Stunned the car to the city center of Aix-en-Provence. As a habit, I opened my notebook to find my way home. Before every trip I carefully recorded important information in this notebook, always, never once forgot. But this time it was different because I didn’t understand why all the information about the motel was ignored. Standing at a loss … for a few seconds to blame myself, I encouraged you to walk into the main street and continue to count. In my head, I still have two important words “Youth Hostel”.

Taking a few steps, my friend found out that the men and women had just skimmed like Vietnamese. Immediately I was (hit) blinking to catch a conversation. Oh good, maybe I am better at diplomacy?

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