c'est trop chaud, et t'est trop beau

They say it's going to be another hot summer.

The past week has been too good to me. The joy of summer is beating into me stronger than the Southern sun.

I don’t want to lose this feeling. I walk around with a stupid grin on my face, constantly staring up at the sky in awe. My stereo sings to me “I feel fine, and I feel good, I feel like I never should,” and I nod my head in agreement.

I’ve spent the last week with a dark haired French boy, our eyes caught in dazed stares, our bodies drawn together like magnets. I fell for him last summer, and although nothing came of it I made it my goal to make something happen this time around. I can hardly believe it worked. I’m not good with relationships and don’t fall easily, but I’m charmed as hell. I’m happy. He makes life seem so easy.

The other night I went into Toulouse with some friends for la Fete de la Musique, one of the France’s finest ideas for a festival yet, where all over the country musicians congregate on street corners and play their hearts out. From Paris to the small towns in our region, it’s a variety of free concerts, with something for everyone.

In Toulouse the central square was a huge stage with a DJ playing techno, and the streets were laced with everything from rap to grunge rock. Down by the canal we moved to reggae beats, and beat our way through crowds of hundreds.

The night was amazing, even though it involved me taking my drunk friend home early, having a young man ask me for a lighter then throw up on my foot, many dirty French men, me getting lost on my own in some sketchy neighborhood in Toulouse-I think I asked a prostitute for directions-for more than an hour, and only getting an hour or so of sleep.

Still, it was a great night, the city was alive and I felt that way as well. When we took the train home at seven in the morning I was still swaying my arms to the music in my head.

And when I headed down to the lake the next day, hungover as hell, and felt the sun sink into my skin, I knew it was summer. When the village kids forced me to attempt dives off the raft and take the slide with them, I knew it was summer. When I was sitting in my friends stuffy apartment in Toulouse, my jeans sticking to my thighs while smoke filled the air and reggae music beat off the walls, I knew it was definitely summer. There's no other reason for me to be smiling so much.

This is the one time of year where I’m not cold, where I feel free in my skin, and where I get to spend time in a country that makes my heart sing. C’est ma coeur qui chante, et j’ai envie de danser.

These are the days I know I've got to hold on to, so I can dance with the thought of them later.