The wind was blowing through my hair, the sun was shining creating a shadow behind me. With no clouds in the sky and birds flying high it felt like the perfect summer day. My dad had told me twice already to come and sit at the table, but being the stubborn kid that I was, I decided to ignore him. Eventually it was time for me to sit down, which wasn't a punishment to me, for the food that I was about to be served was a whole experience within itself. The road was long, narrow, and curvy. At first, I didn't really know where we were headed. We'd turn left for five kilometers and then right for three kilometers, passing through multiple small towns. When we passed through each town, there was almost always a round-about with signs telling us which way to go, but I could never read them, for they were in a different language. After thirty minutes of driving on these curvy roads, left right left right, we finally arrived at our destination. A little dizzy from the ride, I could not wait for my dad to finally turn off the engine so that I could get out of the car. Enjoying the vitamin D from the sun, my stomach was growling and I felt like mashed potatoes without the gravy, a burger without the patty and french fries without ketchup; it felt wrong. I sat down at the table, next to my dad and my sister, when the waitress came up to me and said, "Voici le menu de ce soir." Not only did I not understand what she was saying, but my understanding was jeopardized by the constant bear growling in my stomach. After what seemed like five minutes had passed, but in reality had only been five seconds, my mom responded with, "Elle ne parle pas français . After this, the waitress excused herself and repeated what she had said but this time in English, "Here's the menu for tonight , and I responded with broken French, "Merci!". I opened the menu and realized that once again everything was in French; nonetheless, I looked at the menu. Trying