The place was essentially a ghost town, which made this the perfect setting for the following story, which is a little bit scary for someone who is in a foreign country by oneself, off on her own, doing her own thing-and unfortunately not being smart enough to stay with the group.
Let me preface this by saying that originally, what happened was not a very humorous experience. Getting lost in a foreign country is not fun. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach for most of the experience because I was terrified of being left behind by my group in France. Running around not knowing where you're going is not fun. Knowing that you've made mistakes is not fun. Having that 'lost' feeling is not fun. Having to ask strangers for directions is not fun. Looking back, however, it seems very funny. First, I will tell it how the story happened. There were a group of about thirty of us-about half of us were American high school students, and the other half were Spanish high school host students.
We were eating lunch on the beach that we had brought from home, and I told the group (I'm paraphrasing here), "Yeah, well, I'm going to head off now by myself." I told them this in no uncertain terms. No one seemed to think this odd. After all, Biarritz was a little town; it wasn't very large; how could I get lost
I must preface this story...
Seven Streets is basically is a shopping district of seven streets horizontally lined up next to each other. I had run out of money, which was back then the Spanish peseta and not yet the Euro. I had to ask the people at the store to hold the postcards for me while I ran to the local bank on Siete Calles. When I got to the bank, somehow I was able to jump the line. I don't know if it was because they were feeling sorry for my plight of being in a terrible hurry or what it was, but I asked some elderly Spanish ladies to translate for me so I could get some Spanish pesetas quickly, in order to get back to the store in order to pay for the postcards faster. Meanwhile, I was late in getting back to our meeting place at the church in the center of town and everyone feared the worst for me since I had not gotten back on time-when in reality I was just buying about 100 or so postcards that were on sale! I promised not to be late again and that was that.
Well, little did I know that I would again find myself in another pickle. This time was really not much different. After I had told the Spanish students "So long" at lunch and had gone along on my merry way, I found myself going to various stores in Biarritz, because really this place was quite interesting. They had all sorts of different knick-knacks that were fun to look at, and it really was quite a charming little town. It was the kind of place you could get lost in. That was the key word. The kind of town you could get lost in. Unfortunately, I was going to be one of those people in a few minutes.
I found myself finally at a French confectionary and candy store investigating all the different kinds of sweets that this particular place