I started out the day early to get a chance to explore the Alps a bit. I grabbed an apple tarte from a Pâtisserie and had a bottle of water. Before we left the town a few hours later, we went back to the same Pâtisserie and grabbed two personal pizzas for the three of us to share (the toppings of the pizza were a mystery as they were covered by cheese and only slightly visible, but they were typical vegetables for a pizza – green and red peppers, some meat and the sort).
That evening, lacking money and motivation, and being surrounded by overpriced restaurants in Marseilles, I resorted to McDonalds and had two cheeseburgers and a strawberry milkshake. I’m not proud, but I was a bit hungry. I always have a bit of uneasiness when going into a clearly American restaurant like this. I think it’s because I want to help reevaluate the idea in peoples’ minds that these fast food places are so essential to Americans. I don’t want foreigners to think that I’m traveling all the way to France to go to a McDonalds, but there I was. In other circumstances (having more money) I would have chosen to go somewhere else. But I certainly wasn’t the only one in that position, as many other locals were waiting in line just as I was. They can’t judge me if they’re waiting in line at the same place, right?