I'm sick :( That's what I get for being lax in my germ-freakishness and not carrying hand sanitizer for when I take public transportation (which is every day). Oops.
What's happened since I updated last? Well, le cirque invisible, for one.
My theatre class went to see Le Cirque Invisible at Theatre du Ront Point on Sunday, but it wasn't really a circus, and it also was definitely not invisible. Basically it was a man and a woman who took turns doing weird things for two hours. They did magic tricks, rode bicycles, fit themselves into really small places, did duck calls, and had the fattest white rabbits I have ever seen in my life. I think really it was meant for younger kids, but there was surprisingly little information about it online, so my theatre teacher wasn't sure what to expect. After the circus Kara, Leah and I took the metro home. I'm normally fine with the metro as long as I'm with someone, but on Sunday I learned that you should NEVER attempt to metro it during rush hour (between 6-7 in the evening). If you do, you will be unpleasantly squished up against the unknown parts of unknown people, and you will not like it. Luckily I was crushed between Leah and Kara, so not as bad as it could've been, especially since we kept each other from falling over and into the laps of sketchy people.
On Monday Leah, Kristin, Hannah and Sky (actually a boy, in case you were wondering), came over to my apartment to make cookies. One thing the French just don't get is soft cookies. Here you can get bazillions of amazing pastries, but nothing remotely close to a gooey, chewy chocolate chip cookie. Sad. After assembling the ingredients Leah had bought, we decided that, even though the brown sugar was definitely not like brown sugar in the US, and even though the thing we were pretty sure was baking soda might not actually have been baking soda (we were going by the chemical makeup listed on the back, which doesn't really help when you're a bunch of French, Creative Writing, History, and Art History majors), we would wing it. Since chocolate ships don't exist in France we ended up buying chocolate bars and hacking them to bits (which is the reason that my kitchen was temporarily covered in a fine coating of chocolate dust). Also, the vanilla extract was more like some mysterious kind of vanilla syrup that wasn't nearly as strong. Which sucked, because it was really expensive and we had to use a ton.
But after all that the cookies turned out really well--different, but good. Hannah made a thing with zukini which was delicious, and we had a baguette, cheese, pate, saucisson and apple picnic in the dining room, which was delicious.
After Kristin and Hannah had to leave, we made hot chocolate and watched Happy Feet in French, which was ridiculous because all the songs were still in English, meaning that the movie made even less sense than it normally does.
That night our literature class was going to the La Comedie Francaise (the most famous theatre here) to see Fantasio, some weird play that our teacher told us we had to read. The only thing was that she told us this on Thursday, and gave us one book to share among ten people. Basically, no one read the play, but we did read an article saying that Christian Lacroix, a famous French fashion designer, had done all the costumes for the production. The theatre was gorgeous (once Kristin and I found it after getting soaked in the rain and slightly lost) and the play was alright. I was expecting insane costumes since I'd heard that Christian Lacroix was very couture-y, but they weren't too out-there. They were well made and there was a really beautiful wedding dress, but other than that nothing spectacular. I wasn't a fan of the actress in the lead female role, and the lead male role was actually also played by a woman, which was odd. They had a really cool set piece that turned, kind of like they do for Les Miserables, but smaller and weirder. It was interesting.
Yesterday I lived through Lit and Grammar before deciding that I was too sick to handle phonetique with Jean-Thierry and his crazy "gymnastics" which involve screaming and flailing. So I came home and went to sleep until my momma called to say that she was coming over. She brought me lots of things from home because I am a spoiled panda. But now I am a spoiled panda with my uggs and winter coat, and I'm also a nice-smelling panda because I have new deoderant. They don't have natural deoderant here, and since I don't want alzheimers I have to make mom bring me Tom's from home.
We had dinner with my Aunt Susan and Uncle John and their friends, which was fun. We saw the Eiffel Tower sparkling for approximately .3 seconds, and then I spent the night with mom in her hotel and came back on the bus this morning.
And now I'm in the process of deciding whether or not to go to theatre today. Do I really want to hack my brains out and snot all over the place for three hours while my teacher attempts to make us learn something from the invisible circus? I don't think I'm going to be worth anything in the improvising/acting game department, or even the note-taking department. Or, for that matter, the not-passing-out-while-the-teacher-is-talking department. BUT now I have medicine and Emergen-C and Echinacea, so I'm hoping that if I take enough of that I'll be a little better by tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
I realize that my ass is like marble from climbing the tour Eiffel, but please refrain from touching it.
Yesterday after overdosing on "So pesto!" pasta from the pasta place on rue Vavin, and after then getting a horrendous headache during phonetique (not sure whether this was caused by the pasta or Jean-Thierry's style of teaching), I was surprised by a Norwegian who had found her way into my school and proceeded to slurk around waiting for me while the guard tried to talk to her in French. For anyone who doesn't know, said Norwegian is Marie, my friend from sophomore year of highschool who I haven't seen in four years. Her mom had a conference in Paris, so she decided to come down for a few days to hang out and visit.
We went out for coffee, crepes and the timeless art of coveting shit we cannot afford. We also tried to find headphones at Monoprix, and failed. Then I came home, where Valerie and Edouard were busy packing and cleaning to get ready to leave for vacation today. I'm pretty sure they didn't go to bed last night, but just stayed up until 5:20 this morning when Sophie came to pick them up to go to the train station. They took the cats with them (even though I offered to take care of them here) and they (the cats, not my family) were pissed off all night because they weren't allowed out of the house for fear that they wouldn't come home in time. This wouldn't be a problem with any normal cats, but Daphne and Bart Simpson have a habit of throwing themselves against the door when they want to go out. Which makes a lot of noise.
So anyway, today Marie came over and we decided to buy some pain au chocolats and head to the Eiffel Tower to be as touristy as possible. Thank god Marie is freakishly good at using the metro, or we totally would have died. We got to the Eiffel Tower and decided to pay the 3.50 euro to take the stairs so the 2nd observation deck, which is as far as you can go without having to pay 12 more euro to take the elevator to the top. Not having worked out properly since I've been here, the stairs were pretty painful. In fact, I am still in pain. But whatever, it was worth it.
After the tower we promptly got lost on our way to the Tour Eiffel metro, but we eventually found another metro, around which there was a market full of antiques, furniture, clothes, and other assorted junk. From there we took the metro to Sacre Coeur to meet Marie's mom (Ingrid! Ingrid who is married to Lars! Whose kids are named Thor and Helga Marie! So Scandanavian!). We then hiked up to the church, which was gorgeous and actually having a mass. We spent way too long staring at the six nuns who were singing, trying to figure out if there was also a hidden choir somewhere, or just a really great speaker system. I actually still have no idea, but either way, those nuns had some pretty nice voices. Made me want to be a nun for about .03 seconds. Not really.
Then somehow Ingrid decided we should walk from Sacre Coeur, through Montmartre past the Moulin Rouge all the way to the Galleries Lafayette (the real old one, not the one in Montparnasse). Don't get me wrong, I love walking--especially in Paris where everyone should and does walk all the time--but my feet are killing me. But it was a nice walk on which we saw Picasso's house (we think), and a store full of the craziest, most quirky jewelry I have ever seen. Too bad it cost more than my life.
Galleries Lafayette was just as ridiculous as I thought it would be--jam packed with people, lots of whom were carrying several shopping bags each, which was astonishing seeing as they were from brands like Dolce & Gabana, Ralph Lauren, Dior and whoever makes those 130 euro bras I want. We spent way too long there, wandering around in a daze looking at all the shiny.
From there we went to dinner, at a little place on the rue Mouffetard where we had racklette (I actually have no idea how to spell that). They give you a plate with pieces of cheese and meat, and a heater-ma-bob with little tiny pan things. You put a piece of cheese in your little pan and let it melt on the heater while you cut up a potatoe and some meat. When the cheese is nice and melty you pour it all over the potatoe and meat, then let another piece of cheese melt while you eat. It is freaking delicious, and everyone should go there and eat it. But don't order the blueberry tart, because it was icky.
After dinner Marie and her mama walked me home. During the walk Ingrid decided that she was obsessed with my neighborhood and should move there.
Now I'm home, and my legs hurt. But in a good way.
Oh, somewhere during the course of the past two days Marie decided that crepes, or pancakes as she calls them, are the new pizza. Because they are flat. And because you can eat whatever you want in them. And because every country makes them a little differently--for example, America's are the fattest. Just like with pizza. Pancake: the new pizza. Possibly the best thing Marie has ever said.
Lastly, we saw a woman carrying a cat in a box in the metro. Don't know what that was about. I love the French.
We went out for coffee, crepes and the timeless art of coveting shit we cannot afford. We also tried to find headphones at Monoprix, and failed. Then I came home, where Valerie and Edouard were busy packing and cleaning to get ready to leave for vacation today. I'm pretty sure they didn't go to bed last night, but just stayed up until 5:20 this morning when Sophie came to pick them up to go to the train station. They took the cats with them (even though I offered to take care of them here) and they (the cats, not my family) were pissed off all night because they weren't allowed out of the house for fear that they wouldn't come home in time. This wouldn't be a problem with any normal cats, but Daphne and Bart Simpson have a habit of throwing themselves against the door when they want to go out. Which makes a lot of noise.
So anyway, today Marie came over and we decided to buy some pain au chocolats and head to the Eiffel Tower to be as touristy as possible. Thank god Marie is freakishly good at using the metro, or we totally would have died. We got to the Eiffel Tower and decided to pay the 3.50 euro to take the stairs so the 2nd observation deck, which is as far as you can go without having to pay 12 more euro to take the elevator to the top. Not having worked out properly since I've been here, the stairs were pretty painful. In fact, I am still in pain. But whatever, it was worth it.
After the tower we promptly got lost on our way to the Tour Eiffel metro, but we eventually found another metro, around which there was a market full of antiques, furniture, clothes, and other assorted junk. From there we took the metro to Sacre Coeur to meet Marie's mom (Ingrid! Ingrid who is married to Lars! Whose kids are named Thor and Helga Marie! So Scandanavian!). We then hiked up to the church, which was gorgeous and actually having a mass. We spent way too long staring at the six nuns who were singing, trying to figure out if there was also a hidden choir somewhere, or just a really great speaker system. I actually still have no idea, but either way, those nuns had some pretty nice voices. Made me want to be a nun for about .03 seconds. Not really.
Then somehow Ingrid decided we should walk from Sacre Coeur, through Montmartre past the Moulin Rouge all the way to the Galleries Lafayette (the real old one, not the one in Montparnasse). Don't get me wrong, I love walking--especially in Paris where everyone should and does walk all the time--but my feet are killing me. But it was a nice walk on which we saw Picasso's house (we think), and a store full of the craziest, most quirky jewelry I have ever seen. Too bad it cost more than my life.
Galleries Lafayette was just as ridiculous as I thought it would be--jam packed with people, lots of whom were carrying several shopping bags each, which was astonishing seeing as they were from brands like Dolce & Gabana, Ralph Lauren, Dior and whoever makes those 130 euro bras I want. We spent way too long there, wandering around in a daze looking at all the shiny.
From there we went to dinner, at a little place on the rue Mouffetard where we had racklette (I actually have no idea how to spell that). They give you a plate with pieces of cheese and meat, and a heater-ma-bob with little tiny pan things. You put a piece of cheese in your little pan and let it melt on the heater while you cut up a potatoe and some meat. When the cheese is nice and melty you pour it all over the potatoe and meat, then let another piece of cheese melt while you eat. It is freaking delicious, and everyone should go there and eat it. But don't order the blueberry tart, because it was icky.
After dinner Marie and her mama walked me home. During the walk Ingrid decided that she was obsessed with my neighborhood and should move there.
Now I'm home, and my legs hurt. But in a good way.
Oh, somewhere during the course of the past two days Marie decided that crepes, or pancakes as she calls them, are the new pizza. Because they are flat. And because you can eat whatever you want in them. And because every country makes them a little differently--for example, America's are the fattest. Just like with pizza. Pancake: the new pizza. Possibly the best thing Marie has ever said.
Lastly, we saw a woman carrying a cat in a box in the metro. Don't know what that was about. I love the French.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
my umbrella is not adequately metrosexual for this country
Today while walking from the bus stop to my school, I saw a man whose umbrella was pinker than mine (and mine is vibrant magenta, on the off chance that you haven't seen it). As rabid with jealousy as I was, I have to admit that it kind of made my life. Europe is my favorite.
I also love living in a city where there is food all over the place. Oh, you want a box of curry noodles? Go to the box-of-curry-noodles stand right around the corner! On your way you can check out the nutella paninis (not to mention all the other kinds of paninis, which admittedly pale in comparison to the aforementioned nutella ones), the grocery store where everything is absurdly cheap (by European standards), the seven billion other chinese takeout places, the crepe stand, and about eighty four boulangeries. And the cafe with tiramisu ice cream. And the poulet roti. And the place where you can buy the bootleg version of Le Petit Ecolier cookies, which are exactly the same, but without the petit ecolier on the front. And let me just say that schoolboy or no, they are delicious.
Today after phonetique I went for chocolat chaud with Kit and Jess, but somehow the chocolat choad managed to turn itself into ice cream. No idea how that might have happened. We talked about our cats d'accueil, and mine still win. Daphne & Bart Simpson > Vanille & Pastelle. I also finally mailed my absentee ballot, with my witnesses signatures and addresses scrawled all over the back. Hopefully that's alright. On that note, why do the voting people bother to send a postage paid envelope that says "NO POSTAGE REQUIRED" if that only works inside the US, when they are (hopefully) aware that they are sending it to me in FRANCE? Which means I have to buy postage anyway, for 2 euro and change. Whatever, I finally voted and sent some letters and cartes postales which will probably take the next thirty seven years to get there, possibly more if there is another mail strike...or a "sort-of-mail-strike" like last time. No, I do not get what that means, but yes, it happens.
Now that I finally have my carte imagine-R I get to take the bus/metro/RER/train for free! Well, not actually free since it cost almost 300 euro, but it's for the whole year and I get to swipe it past little sensors that make fairy-dust noises afterwards. So basically I don't care what it does or how much it cost, because it makes me feel magical, damnit. Actually I feel slightly less magical when I forget that I have it (after spending a month without it), and have to go back to the sensor thingy to swipe it while the bus driver looks at me confusedly. Yes.
Tomorrow I am hopefully going to the massive marche biologique. I would like to say that I have a good reason to go there, like a need to eat delicious and natural food, but I really just want to chercher les potirons, comme l'habitude. C'est l'histoire de ma vie. Knowing France, all the markets will be full of pumpkins AFTER Halloween, and when I ask why, they'll say "Well of course we have pumpkins, it's pumpkin season!" Someone needs to teach these people that pumpkins is not for to eat, please.
I have way too much reading for Thursday. I should probably go do that. On second thought, I should probably go to bed so I can wake up early tomorrow and go pumpkin hunting before theatre class, where we will be discussing probably the most un-entertaining play I have ever seen. But on a much more better-er side note, Hannah and I are trying to decide whether we'd rather see Othello or A Midsummer Night's Dream at l'Odeon. In French. AHAHA. Oh god.
I also love living in a city where there is food all over the place. Oh, you want a box of curry noodles? Go to the box-of-curry-noodles stand right around the corner! On your way you can check out the nutella paninis (not to mention all the other kinds of paninis, which admittedly pale in comparison to the aforementioned nutella ones), the grocery store where everything is absurdly cheap (by European standards), the seven billion other chinese takeout places, the crepe stand, and about eighty four boulangeries. And the cafe with tiramisu ice cream. And the poulet roti. And the place where you can buy the bootleg version of Le Petit Ecolier cookies, which are exactly the same, but without the petit ecolier on the front. And let me just say that schoolboy or no, they are delicious.
Today after phonetique I went for chocolat chaud with Kit and Jess, but somehow the chocolat choad managed to turn itself into ice cream. No idea how that might have happened. We talked about our cats d'accueil, and mine still win. Daphne & Bart Simpson > Vanille & Pastelle. I also finally mailed my absentee ballot, with my witnesses signatures and addresses scrawled all over the back. Hopefully that's alright. On that note, why do the voting people bother to send a postage paid envelope that says "NO POSTAGE REQUIRED" if that only works inside the US, when they are (hopefully) aware that they are sending it to me in FRANCE? Which means I have to buy postage anyway, for 2 euro and change. Whatever, I finally voted and sent some letters and cartes postales which will probably take the next thirty seven years to get there, possibly more if there is another mail strike...or a "sort-of-mail-strike" like last time. No, I do not get what that means, but yes, it happens.
Now that I finally have my carte imagine-R I get to take the bus/metro/RER/train for free! Well, not actually free since it cost almost 300 euro, but it's for the whole year and I get to swipe it past little sensors that make fairy-dust noises afterwards. So basically I don't care what it does or how much it cost, because it makes me feel magical, damnit. Actually I feel slightly less magical when I forget that I have it (after spending a month without it), and have to go back to the sensor thingy to swipe it while the bus driver looks at me confusedly. Yes.
Tomorrow I am hopefully going to the massive marche biologique. I would like to say that I have a good reason to go there, like a need to eat delicious and natural food, but I really just want to chercher les potirons, comme l'habitude. C'est l'histoire de ma vie. Knowing France, all the markets will be full of pumpkins AFTER Halloween, and when I ask why, they'll say "Well of course we have pumpkins, it's pumpkin season!" Someone needs to teach these people that pumpkins is not for to eat, please.
I have way too much reading for Thursday. I should probably go do that. On second thought, I should probably go to bed so I can wake up early tomorrow and go pumpkin hunting before theatre class, where we will be discussing probably the most un-entertaining play I have ever seen. But on a much more better-er side note, Hannah and I are trying to decide whether we'd rather see Othello or A Midsummer Night's Dream at l'Odeon. In French. AHAHA. Oh god.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
le robe de drager
So after monday's goings-on, Valerie and her friend Maria (or, as she now says, her "BFF") have an obsession with my purple dress. They call it "le robe de drager," ie "the dress in which one gets continually picked-up by weird men." So tonight, this happened:
Maria: (walks in the door) Oh hi, nice outfit, but you should go change into le robe de drager, I want to see it!
Me: Why?
Maria: So I can buy one just like it, obviously!
Valerie: Yeah, go get it!
So I went and got the dress and showed it to them (on the hanger).
Maria: Ohhh, that's nice. But I think you should wear it for dinner!
Me: Why?
Valerie: Yes, do it!
Me: But it's cold!
Maria: Valerie, shut the window!
Valerie: (shuts the window) Now it's not cold!
Maria: Go put it on!
Me: But--
Valerie: GO!
So now I'm wearing le robe de drager, which is slightly pointless because I'm going to be with a bunch of people who are A) too old and B) not single.
I live
with
CRAZY PEOPLE.
And that is okay.
Maria: (walks in the door) Oh hi, nice outfit, but you should go change into le robe de drager, I want to see it!
Me: Why?
Maria: So I can buy one just like it, obviously!
Valerie: Yeah, go get it!
So I went and got the dress and showed it to them (on the hanger).
Maria: Ohhh, that's nice. But I think you should wear it for dinner!
Me: Why?
Valerie: Yes, do it!
Me: But it's cold!
Maria: Valerie, shut the window!
Valerie: (shuts the window) Now it's not cold!
Maria: Go put it on!
Me: But--
Valerie: GO!
So now I'm wearing le robe de drager, which is slightly pointless because I'm going to be with a bunch of people who are A) too old and B) not single.
I live
with
CRAZY PEOPLE.
And that is okay.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Fort bien.
Whoever reads this totally sucks at leaving comments (unless your name is Emma Grace, Hilary Raye, Lauren Michelle or Maggie Whose Middle Name I Do Not State For Fear of Getting Cut.) Yeah, so if those aren't your names, I'm mad at you.
I did my Baudelaire expose today, and as frustrating as that was, I am unbelievably glad that I don't have to worry about it for the rest of the semester like everyone (minus Kara, who also did hers today). It was an oral presentation in which I had to analyze one of Baudelaire's prose poems for ten minutes in front of the class. Good times. I think I pretty much said the same thing repeatedly, but the professor (who is a meanie, in case I haven't mentoined that) said she was glad we had both focused on details. She seemed happy, or as happy as she gets...well, maybe not as happy as when she laughs at us because we don't understand what she means when she says "Do you think Baudelaire is a mystique?" But still, happy. So I'm hoping I didn't fail that horribly, but you never know.
The phonetique professor gets on my nerves more and more each class. He's entertaining for sure, but it's a little too much to handle twice a week. Also, there's a girl in our class who, for whatever reason, doesn't pronounce things perfectly (even when she speaks English, it's not a linguistic thing), and he appears to not get that asking her to repeat herself over and over agian is NOT going to help. I kind of want to slap a hoe...him being the hoe, obviously.
All of grammar today was spent asking linguistic/cultural questions, which is basically why I love that class and that professor. I love how during almost every class either Brittany or Nina will ask a question to the effect of "Our host family does blankity blank blank, do all French people do that?" Because the answer is always "Uh...no. Your family's just weird." But weird as they may be, they DO have a chateau...
Also, my carte imagine-R arrived today! The card lets you travel for free on the Paris buses, metro, RER, and trains anywhere within Ile de France (basically 100km around Paris). Souped. Especially since now I don't have to count out bazillions of coins every time I get on the bus.
I got my absentee ballot, filled it out, and will mail it tomorrow. Even more souped. Valerie also decided that we are going to stay up all night to watch the elections with lots of food, which sounds fabulous. But I just realized that I'll be in Strasbourg with dad on the 4th. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to sleep, so I'm hoping that our hotel gets a channel that will be showing them...although that seems unlikely. Maybe I'll just make dad find an american bar so we can stay up all night THERE.
And now it is definitely time to go to bed, because I am exhausted.
I did my Baudelaire expose today, and as frustrating as that was, I am unbelievably glad that I don't have to worry about it for the rest of the semester like everyone (minus Kara, who also did hers today). It was an oral presentation in which I had to analyze one of Baudelaire's prose poems for ten minutes in front of the class. Good times. I think I pretty much said the same thing repeatedly, but the professor (who is a meanie, in case I haven't mentoined that) said she was glad we had both focused on details. She seemed happy, or as happy as she gets...well, maybe not as happy as when she laughs at us because we don't understand what she means when she says "Do you think Baudelaire is a mystique?" But still, happy. So I'm hoping I didn't fail that horribly, but you never know.
The phonetique professor gets on my nerves more and more each class. He's entertaining for sure, but it's a little too much to handle twice a week. Also, there's a girl in our class who, for whatever reason, doesn't pronounce things perfectly (even when she speaks English, it's not a linguistic thing), and he appears to not get that asking her to repeat herself over and over agian is NOT going to help. I kind of want to slap a hoe...him being the hoe, obviously.
All of grammar today was spent asking linguistic/cultural questions, which is basically why I love that class and that professor. I love how during almost every class either Brittany or Nina will ask a question to the effect of "Our host family does blankity blank blank, do all French people do that?" Because the answer is always "Uh...no. Your family's just weird." But weird as they may be, they DO have a chateau...
Also, my carte imagine-R arrived today! The card lets you travel for free on the Paris buses, metro, RER, and trains anywhere within Ile de France (basically 100km around Paris). Souped. Especially since now I don't have to count out bazillions of coins every time I get on the bus.
I got my absentee ballot, filled it out, and will mail it tomorrow. Even more souped. Valerie also decided that we are going to stay up all night to watch the elections with lots of food, which sounds fabulous. But I just realized that I'll be in Strasbourg with dad on the 4th. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to sleep, so I'm hoping that our hotel gets a channel that will be showing them...although that seems unlikely. Maybe I'll just make dad find an american bar so we can stay up all night THERE.
And now it is definitely time to go to bed, because I am exhausted.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Okay, it's time for the story of how everyone in France (not really) tried to seduce me yesterday.
So I'm walking to Reid Hall, minding my own business with my sunglasses and my purple polka dot dress (which is little, but so am I, so I'm not blaming this on that), when a man stops me. This all happened in French, but I'm going to translate the ridiculousness so that everyone can appreciate it.
Man: You have a beautiful dress, c'est magnifique!
Me: (in my head: you're obviously gay, that's cool) Thanks!
Man: Where are you from? What origin?
Me: Well, I'm American, but my mother is Philippino and my dad is German.
Man: Aha! And that is why you have that beautiful face?
Me: (nervous laugh--I know you all know which laugh I mean...the one that lasts way too long and is really awkward)
Man: And what is your astrological sign? Scorpio?
Me: (more awkward laughter because I couldn't really grasp the fact that someone had actually just asked what my sign was) Uh, I'm a Leo
Man: AHA! LIKE ME! So can I have your phone number?
Me: Uh, sorry, I don't have a phone! (totally true)
Man: No problem, I can give you my phone number!
Me: Sorry, I don't have a piece of paper or anything...
Man: That's okay, I have one!
Me: Oh, well I don't have a pen...
Man: I can ask in the store! (then he RUNS into the store across the street and asks if he can borrow a pen.) So, when are you going to call me?
Me: Uhhh I don't know
Man: Tonight?
Me: Uhhh
Man: 7? 8? When?
Me: Uhh, I really don't know if I can tonight...
Man: Well, until very soon, I hope.
Me: Uh, bye!
And then I ran away to Reid Hall. But it gets so much more hilarious, because when I was walking BACK from school, the same thing happened AGAIN. Here are the most entertaining parts:
Me: (walking down the street, once again minding my own business)
Man: Excuse me, excuse me!
Me: Yes?
Man: Can I have an autograph?
Me: (genuinely not understanding the French) A what?
Man: An autograph.
Me: (nervous laugh)
Man: I'm a fan of you.
Me: (hoping he stupidly thinks I'm someone famous and it isn't just a horrendous pickup line) Of who?
Man: Of you!
Me: Aaahaha...haha...ha...but I'm not famous?
Man: But you are very beautiful.
Me: uhhh thanks...(nervous laughter because, yet again, I cannot handle that I've heard two of the worst pickup lines in existence in the space of 2 hours)
Man: Want to have a drink with me?
Me: uhhh
Man: Now?
Me: Uh no, I can't right now (totally a lie)
Man: Okay, when?
Me: Uh, I don't know...(he continues to stare at me, so I continue to laugh nervously)
Man: You are very charming.
Me: (almost exploding from holding in my laughter)
Man: Very charming. (He was completely serious. I could not handle it.) Just sit down with me for a few minutes, okay?
Me: Uhhh okay (so we sat down on a step, awk)
Man: So, you are of what origin?
Me: My mom is Philippino and my dad is German, but I'm American.
Man: Ahh, it's a very good mix! And why are you here?
Me: I'm in a program to become fluent in French...
Man: And you have a boyfriend in the United States?
Me: Uh, no (because I am an idiot and didn't think to say yes and leave)
Man: And here?
Me: Nope
Man: Ah, perfect!
Me: (awkward)
Man: Well, I broke up with my girlfriend 5 months ago because she liked to party too much, like every day, and I'm not like that. (That sounded like a blatant and ridiculous lie even in French.)
Me: Oh...okay...
Man: So how old are you?
Me: I'm twenty.
Man: Aha, I'm twenty nine. That's okay though!
Me: ...uh.
Man: So, when do you want to see me again?
Me: Uh...I...don't know?
Man: I would like to have a drink and get to know you. When?
Me: I have classes
Man: When do you not have classes?
Me: Um...Friday...?
Man: Okay, we'll meet here on Friday at 1:00.
Me: Uhhh
Man: (in English) Very beautiful! Very beautiful!
Me: Ummm, thanks...BYE.
Uh, yeah. Not actually kidding. AT ALL. That is all word-for-word (in translation, obviously) minus the more boring parts which were mostly made up of me not understanding what they were saying. Possibly that is a good thing. Also, French people cannot grasp my name, because it is about as un-French as they come. But anyways.
Totally avoiding that sketchball on Friday. (Although in reality neither of them looked or dressed like a sketchball...I'm just not sure how sketchy it is (in France) to be so insistent when picking up girls on the street. Either way, definitely weird.
In other news I found CHOCOLATE PUMPKINS today in a chocolate shop right by my house. I also bought a pretty purple scarf, ate some yummy chocolat-pistache thingum, wandered around with Kristin and had hot chocolate with Kristin, Emily and Emily's friend whose name I cannot remember. Then we had an adventure buying stamps, but I finally have some, so that's good.
In other other news, the prof de litterature is a big bad meanie, but nobody likes her anyway so that's okay. I don't get why she continues to ask questions to which we clearly do not know the answers. "Do you think Baudelaire is a mystique?" No, because I don't know what the hell a 'mystique' is because, hello, the reason I'm here is because I'm trying to learn French, which would imply that I DON'T KNOW IT YET. The problem is that she KEEPS asking questions like that and acting surprised or frustrated when we don't get it. I don't get how she hasn't yet formed at least a general idea of our level. Bah.
I have to go eat some avocados now. Pray that weird men stop talking to me.
So I'm walking to Reid Hall, minding my own business with my sunglasses and my purple polka dot dress (which is little, but so am I, so I'm not blaming this on that), when a man stops me. This all happened in French, but I'm going to translate the ridiculousness so that everyone can appreciate it.
Man: You have a beautiful dress, c'est magnifique!
Me: (in my head: you're obviously gay, that's cool) Thanks!
Man: Where are you from? What origin?
Me: Well, I'm American, but my mother is Philippino and my dad is German.
Man: Aha! And that is why you have that beautiful face?
Me: (nervous laugh--I know you all know which laugh I mean...the one that lasts way too long and is really awkward)
Man: And what is your astrological sign? Scorpio?
Me: (more awkward laughter because I couldn't really grasp the fact that someone had actually just asked what my sign was) Uh, I'm a Leo
Man: AHA! LIKE ME! So can I have your phone number?
Me: Uh, sorry, I don't have a phone! (totally true)
Man: No problem, I can give you my phone number!
Me: Sorry, I don't have a piece of paper or anything...
Man: That's okay, I have one!
Me: Oh, well I don't have a pen...
Man: I can ask in the store! (then he RUNS into the store across the street and asks if he can borrow a pen.) So, when are you going to call me?
Me: Uhhh I don't know
Man: Tonight?
Me: Uhhh
Man: 7? 8? When?
Me: Uhh, I really don't know if I can tonight...
Man: Well, until very soon, I hope.
Me: Uh, bye!
And then I ran away to Reid Hall. But it gets so much more hilarious, because when I was walking BACK from school, the same thing happened AGAIN. Here are the most entertaining parts:
Me: (walking down the street, once again minding my own business)
Man: Excuse me, excuse me!
Me: Yes?
Man: Can I have an autograph?
Me: (genuinely not understanding the French) A what?
Man: An autograph.
Me: (nervous laugh)
Man: I'm a fan of you.
Me: (hoping he stupidly thinks I'm someone famous and it isn't just a horrendous pickup line) Of who?
Man: Of you!
Me: Aaahaha...haha...ha...but I'm not famous?
Man: But you are very beautiful.
Me: uhhh thanks...(nervous laughter because, yet again, I cannot handle that I've heard two of the worst pickup lines in existence in the space of 2 hours)
Man: Want to have a drink with me?
Me: uhhh
Man: Now?
Me: Uh no, I can't right now (totally a lie)
Man: Okay, when?
Me: Uh, I don't know...(he continues to stare at me, so I continue to laugh nervously)
Man: You are very charming.
Me: (almost exploding from holding in my laughter)
Man: Very charming. (He was completely serious. I could not handle it.) Just sit down with me for a few minutes, okay?
Me: Uhhh okay (so we sat down on a step, awk)
Man: So, you are of what origin?
Me: My mom is Philippino and my dad is German, but I'm American.
Man: Ahh, it's a very good mix! And why are you here?
Me: I'm in a program to become fluent in French...
Man: And you have a boyfriend in the United States?
Me: Uh, no (because I am an idiot and didn't think to say yes and leave)
Man: And here?
Me: Nope
Man: Ah, perfect!
Me: (awkward)
Man: Well, I broke up with my girlfriend 5 months ago because she liked to party too much, like every day, and I'm not like that. (That sounded like a blatant and ridiculous lie even in French.)
Me: Oh...okay...
Man: So how old are you?
Me: I'm twenty.
Man: Aha, I'm twenty nine. That's okay though!
Me: ...uh.
Man: So, when do you want to see me again?
Me: Uh...I...don't know?
Man: I would like to have a drink and get to know you. When?
Me: I have classes
Man: When do you not have classes?
Me: Um...Friday...?
Man: Okay, we'll meet here on Friday at 1:00.
Me: Uhhh
Man: (in English) Very beautiful! Very beautiful!
Me: Ummm, thanks...BYE.
Uh, yeah. Not actually kidding. AT ALL. That is all word-for-word (in translation, obviously) minus the more boring parts which were mostly made up of me not understanding what they were saying. Possibly that is a good thing. Also, French people cannot grasp my name, because it is about as un-French as they come. But anyways.
Totally avoiding that sketchball on Friday. (Although in reality neither of them looked or dressed like a sketchball...I'm just not sure how sketchy it is (in France) to be so insistent when picking up girls on the street. Either way, definitely weird.
In other news I found CHOCOLATE PUMPKINS today in a chocolate shop right by my house. I also bought a pretty purple scarf, ate some yummy chocolat-pistache thingum, wandered around with Kristin and had hot chocolate with Kristin, Emily and Emily's friend whose name I cannot remember. Then we had an adventure buying stamps, but I finally have some, so that's good.
In other other news, the prof de litterature is a big bad meanie, but nobody likes her anyway so that's okay. I don't get why she continues to ask questions to which we clearly do not know the answers. "Do you think Baudelaire is a mystique?" No, because I don't know what the hell a 'mystique' is because, hello, the reason I'm here is because I'm trying to learn French, which would imply that I DON'T KNOW IT YET. The problem is that she KEEPS asking questions like that and acting surprised or frustrated when we don't get it. I don't get how she hasn't yet formed at least a general idea of our level. Bah.
I have to go eat some avocados now. Pray that weird men stop talking to me.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Taisez-vous, je suis en train de frapper quelqu'un avec un squash !
HOKAY SO.
This weekend was our group excursion to the Loire Valley, and it was pretty great.
Getting up at 6h00 (just as Valerie was going to bed) on Saturday morning wasn't that fun, but that's exactly what I did so that I could meet Emily outside (in the pitch freaking dark) to venture to the bus stop. We caught the bus 91 to the gare Montparnasse where we found some other people from our group wandering around, wondering how to get inside. We figured it out eventually (even though I think we actually entered by way of the exit, but it was too early for rational thought processes) and found Mme. Stevens and a huge bag of croissants. Have I mentioned that I ADORE Mme. Stevens? Because I know I've mentioned that I adore croissants. Everyone (except Yana, who met up with us later) got on the train and proceeded to do that thing where you fall asleep for long enough for your head to start drooping, then jolt awake voilently and freak out a little. Then you do it again. Good times.
It was ridiculously foggy during the ride and when we got to the Loire (like, the kind of fog that looks like it might eat you if you get lost in it). The first chateau we visited was in an itty bitty town that was basically smooshed into the side of a hill and made of white stone, with teeny yellowy-beige-ish cobble stones that made up the streets and the sidewalks. It looked like a tiny, adorable, quiet version of Disneyland. The chateau was big and gloomy and fairly unremarkable aside from the weirdly colored floors in every room. It also had ramparts with a bell which I stupidly assumed would not ring if I happened to throw myself against it. I was wrong. Oops. Also, there was probably the most amazing treehouse I have ever seen in the garden. It was in an enormous tree, and it was not like any treehouse you can possibly imagine. I'm guessing it wasn't original to the middle ages, but it was still my favorite part, especially since it was the perfect size for short people like me, Jennifer and Jessica.
After that we visited a "cave" which I stupidly assumed (for the second time) was actually a cave. Like with stalactites and bears. But it was actually a wine cellar--which is not to say, a cellar with some wine in it. It was HUGE and DARK and SCARY. And full of wine bottles, some of which were all fuzzy with mold because they were so old. We tasted a bunch, and while I didn't really like the wine, I was a huge fan of the nut bread and goat cheese they gave us.
After the wine tasting we went back to the town of the first chateau for lunch. It took us (Liz, Linnaea and I) way too long to find a restaurant we wanted to eat at, but when we finally did it ended up being crepes. It also ended up being twenty minutes before we had to be back at the bus, so, being responsible students, we asked to have our dessert crepes to go and proceeded to eat our savory crepes (mine was with goat cheese) faster than I thought was humanly possible. Once we paid and got our nutella creps to go we RAN to the bus (which sucked because both Linnaea and Liz are at least 5 inches taller than me) only to discover that some other kids were going to be late because they were busy eating ice cream. Not cute.
Once we finally got everyone on the bus we set out for the "country house" of Brittany and Nina's host family who had invited the group over for coffee. After we drove down a private, tree'lined road for at least fifteen minutes, we got off the bus, crossed a MOAT (like honestly, a moat, with a swan swimming around in it) and ended up in front of, not a country house, but a freaking CHATEAU. Literally--the proper word for it is actually chateau. The ceilings on the first floor were probably 15 feet high, and there were two other floors with 7 and 12 bedrooms respectively. And a library, and a bunch of other rooms. Then Nina and Brittany's family proceeded to show us various things, like a portrait of their ancestor who was saved from the Terror during the French Revolution by being hidden in a laundry basket when she was a baby. Then we had coffee on the lawn and learned about why a hunting horn is like a cell phone. Which is a long and ridiculous story.
We left for Villandry, another chateau, to see the gardens which turned out to be spectacular. Not only were there four different gardens of love (each one being a different kind of love, although we couldn't quite figure out which was which), but there was also a garden where everything was edible. Unfortunately I'm pretty sure the people at the chateau didn't mean for us to take that as an invitation to actually EAT everything in the garden...but we kind of did anyway. Hopefully all those grapes (and the pear that Leah and Emily stole even though it involved leaping over a fence) weren't covered in products. There was a labyrinth too, but it was slightly disappointing because even I could see over the hedges. Lame.
We finally ended up in Tours for the night, where our hotel was little and cute, and surprisingly well equipped to deal with us. Most of the rooms just had one bed, which wasn't a big deal for the girls (and our group of 33 only has 7 boys), but was pretty hilarious for Sky and Kit, both of whom are very tall (and boys, if the names fooled you). We ate a bizarre dinner at a restaurant across town...and by bizarre I mean that the appetizer was a piece of cold stingray topped with something that we think was jello (but not sweet, thankfully) and peas. The main course was turkey in a sauce that was too sweet for me, but the dessert was pretty yummy, even though I'm still not sure what it was. After dinner the whole group walked back to the hotel through the town, which was fun (on the way to dinner we took the bus). Linnaea and I went right to sleep because we were exhausted and had to wake up early the next morning (today).
The hotel gave us a really, really delicous breakfast (with chocolat chaud!) and tons of food, and then we headed to a chateau whose name I cannot remember where I think Leonardo DaVinci lived...although I wasn't really listening because whenever Laurent the art history prof starts talking about symbolism and architecture, I kind of fall asleep with my eyes open. There were tons of replicas of his inventions in the garden...along with a replica of his canoe, which confused me because it looked exactly like every other canoe in the world. But whatever.
After chateau DaVinci we took a walk to look at another huge chateau which we couldn't visit for some reason. But the town we walked through was even more adorable than the one from the day before, and there was a gigantic candy store which made my life.
Finally we headed to Chenonceau where we first ate lunch at the restaurant inside the grounds, then were lead through the woods by Laurent, then listened to him blather for a good half an hour. That chateau was by far my favorite--it's on a bridge which traverses the Loire, all made out of white stone. I think it's mainly for the bridge thing that I can't get over how cool it is. It is so gorgeous, I think everyone needs to google a picture of it. When Laurent was done rambling we were set free to explore the chateau and the gardens. The kitchens in the chateau were amazing, because there were tons of replicas of old appliances etc. There were also a lot of squashes and gourds lying around for no apparent reason. There was one long room that took up a good deal of the lower level of the chateau, with black and white checkered floor and huge arched windows on both sides looking out on the river in both directions. There were also some weird shrubs between each window, but I'm not exactly sure why. I wish we had had more time to visit the entire chateau, but we ended up leaving in order to check out the gardens for a little while. We unfortunately didn't find the labyrinth in time to play in it, but we did walk around in the other parts of the garden (after we bought some cartes postales!) and we certainly took some idiotic photos.
When we were done at Chenonceau we went back to the train station and caught the train back to Paris. We got in at 6h30ish, I ate dinner with Valerie, and now I'm here, about to fall asleep at the computer.
And lastly, I found pumpkins at Villandry! And I touched them even though I'm pretty sure I was not supposed to. The end.
This weekend was our group excursion to the Loire Valley, and it was pretty great.
Getting up at 6h00 (just as Valerie was going to bed) on Saturday morning wasn't that fun, but that's exactly what I did so that I could meet Emily outside (in the pitch freaking dark) to venture to the bus stop. We caught the bus 91 to the gare Montparnasse where we found some other people from our group wandering around, wondering how to get inside. We figured it out eventually (even though I think we actually entered by way of the exit, but it was too early for rational thought processes) and found Mme. Stevens and a huge bag of croissants. Have I mentioned that I ADORE Mme. Stevens? Because I know I've mentioned that I adore croissants. Everyone (except Yana, who met up with us later) got on the train and proceeded to do that thing where you fall asleep for long enough for your head to start drooping, then jolt awake voilently and freak out a little. Then you do it again. Good times.
It was ridiculously foggy during the ride and when we got to the Loire (like, the kind of fog that looks like it might eat you if you get lost in it). The first chateau we visited was in an itty bitty town that was basically smooshed into the side of a hill and made of white stone, with teeny yellowy-beige-ish cobble stones that made up the streets and the sidewalks. It looked like a tiny, adorable, quiet version of Disneyland. The chateau was big and gloomy and fairly unremarkable aside from the weirdly colored floors in every room. It also had ramparts with a bell which I stupidly assumed would not ring if I happened to throw myself against it. I was wrong. Oops. Also, there was probably the most amazing treehouse I have ever seen in the garden. It was in an enormous tree, and it was not like any treehouse you can possibly imagine. I'm guessing it wasn't original to the middle ages, but it was still my favorite part, especially since it was the perfect size for short people like me, Jennifer and Jessica.
After that we visited a "cave" which I stupidly assumed (for the second time) was actually a cave. Like with stalactites and bears. But it was actually a wine cellar--which is not to say, a cellar with some wine in it. It was HUGE and DARK and SCARY. And full of wine bottles, some of which were all fuzzy with mold because they were so old. We tasted a bunch, and while I didn't really like the wine, I was a huge fan of the nut bread and goat cheese they gave us.
After the wine tasting we went back to the town of the first chateau for lunch. It took us (Liz, Linnaea and I) way too long to find a restaurant we wanted to eat at, but when we finally did it ended up being crepes. It also ended up being twenty minutes before we had to be back at the bus, so, being responsible students, we asked to have our dessert crepes to go and proceeded to eat our savory crepes (mine was with goat cheese) faster than I thought was humanly possible. Once we paid and got our nutella creps to go we RAN to the bus (which sucked because both Linnaea and Liz are at least 5 inches taller than me) only to discover that some other kids were going to be late because they were busy eating ice cream. Not cute.
Once we finally got everyone on the bus we set out for the "country house" of Brittany and Nina's host family who had invited the group over for coffee. After we drove down a private, tree'lined road for at least fifteen minutes, we got off the bus, crossed a MOAT (like honestly, a moat, with a swan swimming around in it) and ended up in front of, not a country house, but a freaking CHATEAU. Literally--the proper word for it is actually chateau. The ceilings on the first floor were probably 15 feet high, and there were two other floors with 7 and 12 bedrooms respectively. And a library, and a bunch of other rooms. Then Nina and Brittany's family proceeded to show us various things, like a portrait of their ancestor who was saved from the Terror during the French Revolution by being hidden in a laundry basket when she was a baby. Then we had coffee on the lawn and learned about why a hunting horn is like a cell phone. Which is a long and ridiculous story.
We left for Villandry, another chateau, to see the gardens which turned out to be spectacular. Not only were there four different gardens of love (each one being a different kind of love, although we couldn't quite figure out which was which), but there was also a garden where everything was edible. Unfortunately I'm pretty sure the people at the chateau didn't mean for us to take that as an invitation to actually EAT everything in the garden...but we kind of did anyway. Hopefully all those grapes (and the pear that Leah and Emily stole even though it involved leaping over a fence) weren't covered in products. There was a labyrinth too, but it was slightly disappointing because even I could see over the hedges. Lame.
We finally ended up in Tours for the night, where our hotel was little and cute, and surprisingly well equipped to deal with us. Most of the rooms just had one bed, which wasn't a big deal for the girls (and our group of 33 only has 7 boys), but was pretty hilarious for Sky and Kit, both of whom are very tall (and boys, if the names fooled you). We ate a bizarre dinner at a restaurant across town...and by bizarre I mean that the appetizer was a piece of cold stingray topped with something that we think was jello (but not sweet, thankfully) and peas. The main course was turkey in a sauce that was too sweet for me, but the dessert was pretty yummy, even though I'm still not sure what it was. After dinner the whole group walked back to the hotel through the town, which was fun (on the way to dinner we took the bus). Linnaea and I went right to sleep because we were exhausted and had to wake up early the next morning (today).
The hotel gave us a really, really delicous breakfast (with chocolat chaud!) and tons of food, and then we headed to a chateau whose name I cannot remember where I think Leonardo DaVinci lived...although I wasn't really listening because whenever Laurent the art history prof starts talking about symbolism and architecture, I kind of fall asleep with my eyes open. There were tons of replicas of his inventions in the garden...along with a replica of his canoe, which confused me because it looked exactly like every other canoe in the world. But whatever.
After chateau DaVinci we took a walk to look at another huge chateau which we couldn't visit for some reason. But the town we walked through was even more adorable than the one from the day before, and there was a gigantic candy store which made my life.
Finally we headed to Chenonceau where we first ate lunch at the restaurant inside the grounds, then were lead through the woods by Laurent, then listened to him blather for a good half an hour. That chateau was by far my favorite--it's on a bridge which traverses the Loire, all made out of white stone. I think it's mainly for the bridge thing that I can't get over how cool it is. It is so gorgeous, I think everyone needs to google a picture of it. When Laurent was done rambling we were set free to explore the chateau and the gardens. The kitchens in the chateau were amazing, because there were tons of replicas of old appliances etc. There were also a lot of squashes and gourds lying around for no apparent reason. There was one long room that took up a good deal of the lower level of the chateau, with black and white checkered floor and huge arched windows on both sides looking out on the river in both directions. There were also some weird shrubs between each window, but I'm not exactly sure why. I wish we had had more time to visit the entire chateau, but we ended up leaving in order to check out the gardens for a little while. We unfortunately didn't find the labyrinth in time to play in it, but we did walk around in the other parts of the garden (after we bought some cartes postales!) and we certainly took some idiotic photos.
When we were done at Chenonceau we went back to the train station and caught the train back to Paris. We got in at 6h30ish, I ate dinner with Valerie, and now I'm here, about to fall asleep at the computer.
And lastly, I found pumpkins at Villandry! And I touched them even though I'm pretty sure I was not supposed to. The end.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Do you know how much it costs to send a freaking letter to the United States urgently?! FIFTY EURO. Umm, here's a letter:
Dear France,
ARE YOU SHITTING ME?
Love,
Molly
Luckily, my fax worked and they received my voter registration and absentee ballot request already. Which is good because when the post office lady told me it would be 50eur to send it quickly, I said "Uhh, NON MERCI" and instead paid 80 cents to send it regular. I know my vote counts, but not for that much money.
ANYWAY, apparently all this time I've been talking about buying a pumpkin, Valerie has been thinking that I want to COOK the pumpkin. Today I finally explained to her that no, I do not want to cook it, I want to cut a hole in it, scoop out its insides, and carve a face on it. Which sounds even dumber in French than it does in English. Now she thinks that I am insane for sure. But as long as she keeps buying me pate and avocados, I'm fine with that.
Tonight we're having chicken curry and noodles which I am SO EXCITED ABOUT. I might die of food related happiness. And then tomorrow the group leaves (WAY too early) for the Loire valley. We're all going to die of chateau overload, but that's okay. I'm rooming with Linnaea, which is fun because we'll probably spend a huge amount of time looking for trees to hug and grass to lay in since there's not enough of that kind of thing in Paris.
I wish the woman from the blind peoples club would get back to me so I could possibly start a pottery class. She is taking freaking forever to figure it out, and honestly, I just want to MAKE SOME FREAKING POTS. Also, I want to teach some blind kids English (because I have no patience for brats who can see), but I have to wait to talk to Valerie's friend who apparently knows all about blind things in Paris.
I also need some new shoes. And a scarf. And that hair thing I saw the other day. I think tuesday is going to be shopping day, because I won't have phonetics and I can convince some kiddos to come with me. Hmm.
Lastly, I need to visit Broceliande and the village of Paimpont in Bretagne, because there are waterfalls and rock formations (like Stonehenge!) and you can ride horses through the woods and there are obviously fairies and talking animals and MAGICAL THINGS. And they make lace, and have a crazy language, and it is eighty seven different kinds of fabulous. I wonder if I'll get an Emerson Grant next summer if I put that in my proposal about why I want to go there and write some crazy stories. PROBABLY NOT. But whatevs.
I get to see my Norwegian later this month, and then Allie Gardiner who is apparently in Denmark, and then possibly Sarah Hirsch. And everyone else should come visit me too. Get a pass from my mom, hop a plane, and come sleep on my floor. That is a serious invitation, actually. You know you want to.
Dear France,
ARE YOU SHITTING ME?
Love,
Molly
Luckily, my fax worked and they received my voter registration and absentee ballot request already. Which is good because when the post office lady told me it would be 50eur to send it quickly, I said "Uhh, NON MERCI" and instead paid 80 cents to send it regular. I know my vote counts, but not for that much money.
ANYWAY, apparently all this time I've been talking about buying a pumpkin, Valerie has been thinking that I want to COOK the pumpkin. Today I finally explained to her that no, I do not want to cook it, I want to cut a hole in it, scoop out its insides, and carve a face on it. Which sounds even dumber in French than it does in English. Now she thinks that I am insane for sure. But as long as she keeps buying me pate and avocados, I'm fine with that.
Tonight we're having chicken curry and noodles which I am SO EXCITED ABOUT. I might die of food related happiness. And then tomorrow the group leaves (WAY too early) for the Loire valley. We're all going to die of chateau overload, but that's okay. I'm rooming with Linnaea, which is fun because we'll probably spend a huge amount of time looking for trees to hug and grass to lay in since there's not enough of that kind of thing in Paris.
I wish the woman from the blind peoples club would get back to me so I could possibly start a pottery class. She is taking freaking forever to figure it out, and honestly, I just want to MAKE SOME FREAKING POTS. Also, I want to teach some blind kids English (because I have no patience for brats who can see), but I have to wait to talk to Valerie's friend who apparently knows all about blind things in Paris.
I also need some new shoes. And a scarf. And that hair thing I saw the other day. I think tuesday is going to be shopping day, because I won't have phonetics and I can convince some kiddos to come with me. Hmm.
Lastly, I need to visit Broceliande and the village of Paimpont in Bretagne, because there are waterfalls and rock formations (like Stonehenge!) and you can ride horses through the woods and there are obviously fairies and talking animals and MAGICAL THINGS. And they make lace, and have a crazy language, and it is eighty seven different kinds of fabulous. I wonder if I'll get an Emerson Grant next summer if I put that in my proposal about why I want to go there and write some crazy stories. PROBABLY NOT. But whatevs.
I get to see my Norwegian later this month, and then Allie Gardiner who is apparently in Denmark, and then possibly Sarah Hirsch. And everyone else should come visit me too. Get a pass from my mom, hop a plane, and come sleep on my floor. That is a serious invitation, actually. You know you want to.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Okay, so in French the word for the hair on your legs is not the same as the word for the hair on your head--instead, it's the same word you use to describe an animal's fur. Yes. Just thought I would share that little linguistic gem with you all.
Also, my host brother is hilariously weird. He wants to be a gangster, and his new favorite game is Make Molly Listen to Hardcore American Gangster Rap and Ask Her to Translate It. Tonight he has asked me such things as "'Gangster bitch,' c'est quoi?" and "Qu'est-ce que ca veut dire, 'walk it out'?" So I just had to say, "Edouard, je ne sais pas, parce que je parle Anglais, mais je ne parle pas Gangster." ("I don't know, because I speak English but I don't speak Gangster") Then Valerie banished him to his room ("l'espace du Gangster") because he was playing the music too loud. THEN he was singing High School Musical (in mumbly English), which I thought was the funniest thing ever. I thought that making fun of him would get him to stop, but instead he made me get out my ipod and let him listen to the soundtrack, which he felt it appropriate to sing along to. And French people singing English songs when they can't speak English is eighty seven different kinds of hilarious.
On a bad note, Baudelaire is making me want to stab myself with my barrette.
Also, my host brother is hilariously weird. He wants to be a gangster, and his new favorite game is Make Molly Listen to Hardcore American Gangster Rap and Ask Her to Translate It. Tonight he has asked me such things as "'Gangster bitch,' c'est quoi?" and "Qu'est-ce que ca veut dire, 'walk it out'?" So I just had to say, "Edouard, je ne sais pas, parce que je parle Anglais, mais je ne parle pas Gangster." ("I don't know, because I speak English but I don't speak Gangster") Then Valerie banished him to his room ("l'espace du Gangster") because he was playing the music too loud. THEN he was singing High School Musical (in mumbly English), which I thought was the funniest thing ever. I thought that making fun of him would get him to stop, but instead he made me get out my ipod and let him listen to the soundtrack, which he felt it appropriate to sing along to. And French people singing English songs when they can't speak English is eighty seven different kinds of hilarious.
On a bad note, Baudelaire is making me want to stab myself with my barrette.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
So I ate ANOTHER baguette sandwich today, even though I KNEW it would tear up the roof of my mouth, like it does every time. And now, once again, I am in pain. But damn, that was a good sandwich.
Daphne the cat is doing this thing where the jumps up and throws herself into my knees. I can't imagine that feels very good, but apparently it does because she does it all the time. That along with her attempts to sleep on my pillow whenever I'm not looking.
I faxed my voter registration/absentee ballot form in today, but I also need to mail it...as soon as I can get to the post office to figure out how to do that. Hmm.
I don't have anything very interesting to update about. We had lunch on the grass in the Jardin du Luxembourg today, which is why my butt was wet for phonetics. But it was nice nonetheless, especially with our gigantic grille au pomme, which is a kind of apple tart that is, in so many words, freaking amazing. And then our phonetics professor decided that we are all his chouchous (little cabbages), and made us yell and throw things into the trashcan.
I really need to get Valerie to show me the pool nearby, since I have a FREAKING PUMPKIN FULL OF CANDY that is going to make me fat. That and the grilles au pomme.
Asian soup here is DISGUSTINGLY expensive--like 3.50 euro per bowl (I'm talking about the just-add-hot-water kind which is like 89c at home). Wtf, mate? I want me some spicy soup, because all the food I've eaten so far which was supposed to be spicy was definitely nowhere near my definition of the word. Which isn't even that intense. I think I need to go to China town and cherche la soupe epicee. And singapore noodles.
And now I have to go figure out if I have any theatre homework for tomorrow.
Daphne the cat is doing this thing where the jumps up and throws herself into my knees. I can't imagine that feels very good, but apparently it does because she does it all the time. That along with her attempts to sleep on my pillow whenever I'm not looking.
I faxed my voter registration/absentee ballot form in today, but I also need to mail it...as soon as I can get to the post office to figure out how to do that. Hmm.
I don't have anything very interesting to update about. We had lunch on the grass in the Jardin du Luxembourg today, which is why my butt was wet for phonetics. But it was nice nonetheless, especially with our gigantic grille au pomme, which is a kind of apple tart that is, in so many words, freaking amazing. And then our phonetics professor decided that we are all his chouchous (little cabbages), and made us yell and throw things into the trashcan.
I really need to get Valerie to show me the pool nearby, since I have a FREAKING PUMPKIN FULL OF CANDY that is going to make me fat. That and the grilles au pomme.
Asian soup here is DISGUSTINGLY expensive--like 3.50 euro per bowl (I'm talking about the just-add-hot-water kind which is like 89c at home). Wtf, mate? I want me some spicy soup, because all the food I've eaten so far which was supposed to be spicy was definitely nowhere near my definition of the word. Which isn't even that intense. I think I need to go to China town and cherche la soupe epicee. And singapore noodles.
And now I have to go figure out if I have any theatre homework for tomorrow.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Yesterday the group had an excursion to Versailles in which we
- were freezing
- plotted to steal a royal sheep
- did not break anything in the restaurant even though a bunch of other people did
- experienced the weirdest bathroom ever
- saw Michael Jackson inside the palace*
- tried to find the baroque orchestra which did not actually exist
- learned about LA SYMBOLISME.
We were set to meet the group at the Versailles RER at 11:30, but Emily and I were ridiculously early (despite being held up by a crazy accordion man on our train). So we huddled in the Starbucks accross the road from the trian station with a bunch of other really early people until the rest of the group got there. Mwantuali was there with his wife, and his kids who kept tattling on us for doing "studenty things!" like sitting on the garden walls and touching the hedges. We couldn't help it, they were so spiraly. If you had seen them, you would understand. Madame Stevens was there with some guy who we initially decided was her illicit lover, but who turned out to be the art history professor who was giving us the tour.
After walking in a huge circle around the gardens (which are pretty much the size of Rhode Island in themselves), and after passing a bunch of sheep which Ellen was tempted to steal, we got to the restaurant. It was goodish, but the bathroom was the best part--it was not only tiny, like all bathrooms in France, but you had to step on this thing on the floor in order to make the sink turn on. And if you didn't apply just the right amount of pressure with your foot, you either got everyone in the vicinity (which was everyone, because the bathroom was so tiny) soaking wet, or didn't get any water at all. Good times.
Then we milled about in the garden and looked at the clouds for awhile before being let into the real inner garden, which is all swirly and ornate and full of the tallest hedges EVER. There was also a statue that looked a lot like Frankenstein's head, but I don't think that's what it was supposed to be. Unfortunately the fountains weren't running when we were outside looking at them, and, doubly unfortunately, they started going as soon as we went into the palace. I would've been happy to stay in the garden because it's so huge that you could probably stay there for a week looking at stuff.
Inside the palace, along with the weird modern art, there were big ridiculous gold ceilings, huge windows, the most absurd chandeliers ever, and monstrously big paintings. It really is pretty, but I can't grasp the concept of waking up every day in a room with a 25 foot high, solid gold ceiling with leopards carved on it. We didn't see too much of the palace--just the first few rooms (including the Hall of Mirrors), and then we were allowed to leave. I was exhausted by that point--I hate standing in one place for long periods of time, which is exactly what we were doing while the art history guy talked about la symbolisme of l'architecture.
So I took the train home with Mme. Stevens because she lives right next to mom's hotel, and met up with mom for dinner and a crepe. Last night was La Nuit Blanche, which is where they have lots of exhibitions and concerts, and museums and a lot of other public spaces are open all night for free. There were also giant neon rabbits performing a rock opera, but I wasn't sure where or if I had the energy to wrap my brain around such a concept, so I decided we shouldn't go. Then mom brought me back to Valerie's this morning in the FREEZING COLD, and I was a good little monkey and did my grammar homework. Then I tried to read Baudelaire, but I kind of failed as per usual, because he is a nutball.
I'm really not inclined to go outside today as it is still freezing and drizzly, but tomorrow I'm going to buy used books for class and to search for a pumpkin at the market with Valerie, because she thinks my jack-o-lantern plan is the funniest thing she's ever heard. She has noooo idea.
* In fact it was just a statue of Michael Jackson, but it looked a whole lot like him. It was creepy. There was an exhibition of modern art in the palace--I can't remember the guy's name, but he makes huge metal statues of balloon animals, among other things.
- were freezing
- plotted to steal a royal sheep
- did not break anything in the restaurant even though a bunch of other people did
- experienced the weirdest bathroom ever
- saw Michael Jackson inside the palace*
- tried to find the baroque orchestra which did not actually exist
- learned about LA SYMBOLISME.
We were set to meet the group at the Versailles RER at 11:30, but Emily and I were ridiculously early (despite being held up by a crazy accordion man on our train). So we huddled in the Starbucks accross the road from the trian station with a bunch of other really early people until the rest of the group got there. Mwantuali was there with his wife, and his kids who kept tattling on us for doing "studenty things!" like sitting on the garden walls and touching the hedges. We couldn't help it, they were so spiraly. If you had seen them, you would understand. Madame Stevens was there with some guy who we initially decided was her illicit lover, but who turned out to be the art history professor who was giving us the tour.
After walking in a huge circle around the gardens (which are pretty much the size of Rhode Island in themselves), and after passing a bunch of sheep which Ellen was tempted to steal, we got to the restaurant. It was goodish, but the bathroom was the best part--it was not only tiny, like all bathrooms in France, but you had to step on this thing on the floor in order to make the sink turn on. And if you didn't apply just the right amount of pressure with your foot, you either got everyone in the vicinity (which was everyone, because the bathroom was so tiny) soaking wet, or didn't get any water at all. Good times.
Then we milled about in the garden and looked at the clouds for awhile before being let into the real inner garden, which is all swirly and ornate and full of the tallest hedges EVER. There was also a statue that looked a lot like Frankenstein's head, but I don't think that's what it was supposed to be. Unfortunately the fountains weren't running when we were outside looking at them, and, doubly unfortunately, they started going as soon as we went into the palace. I would've been happy to stay in the garden because it's so huge that you could probably stay there for a week looking at stuff.
Inside the palace, along with the weird modern art, there were big ridiculous gold ceilings, huge windows, the most absurd chandeliers ever, and monstrously big paintings. It really is pretty, but I can't grasp the concept of waking up every day in a room with a 25 foot high, solid gold ceiling with leopards carved on it. We didn't see too much of the palace--just the first few rooms (including the Hall of Mirrors), and then we were allowed to leave. I was exhausted by that point--I hate standing in one place for long periods of time, which is exactly what we were doing while the art history guy talked about la symbolisme of l'architecture.
So I took the train home with Mme. Stevens because she lives right next to mom's hotel, and met up with mom for dinner and a crepe. Last night was La Nuit Blanche, which is where they have lots of exhibitions and concerts, and museums and a lot of other public spaces are open all night for free. There were also giant neon rabbits performing a rock opera, but I wasn't sure where or if I had the energy to wrap my brain around such a concept, so I decided we shouldn't go. Then mom brought me back to Valerie's this morning in the FREEZING COLD, and I was a good little monkey and did my grammar homework. Then I tried to read Baudelaire, but I kind of failed as per usual, because he is a nutball.
I'm really not inclined to go outside today as it is still freezing and drizzly, but tomorrow I'm going to buy used books for class and to search for a pumpkin at the market with Valerie, because she thinks my jack-o-lantern plan is the funniest thing she's ever heard. She has noooo idea.
* In fact it was just a statue of Michael Jackson, but it looked a whole lot like him. It was creepy. There was an exhibition of modern art in the palace--I can't remember the guy's name, but he makes huge metal statues of balloon animals, among other things.
Friday, October 3, 2008
les pandas
Me: Valerie, est-ce qu'il y a les pandas en France?
Valerie: Les quoi?
Me: Les pandas!
Valerie: ...les QUOI?
Me: Tu ne connais pas cette petit ours qui est blanc et noir?
Valerie: ...
Me: avec les petits oreilles noirs et la visage blanc?
Valerie: ...
Me: et les yeux noirs?
Valerie: ...
Me: ils sont chinoises?
Valerie: Ooooh les pandas!
Me: Oui! Oui oui oui! Est-ce qu'il y a les pandas en France?
Valerie: Uh...non.
SUPER FAIL, FRANCE.
Valerie: Les quoi?
Me: Les pandas!
Valerie: ...les QUOI?
Me: Tu ne connais pas cette petit ours qui est blanc et noir?
Valerie: ...
Me: avec les petits oreilles noirs et la visage blanc?
Valerie: ...
Me: et les yeux noirs?
Valerie: ...
Me: ils sont chinoises?
Valerie: Ooooh les pandas!
Me: Oui! Oui oui oui! Est-ce qu'il y a les pandas en France?
Valerie: Uh...non.
SUPER FAIL, FRANCE.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
One other bad thing about French food...
Me: Mmmm tuna sandwich!
Brandon: Is that an egg in your tuna sandwich?
Everyone: ...EW.
Et donc, j'ai jettee ce morceau du merde dans la pubelle. Then I ate a pain au chocolat and had a chocolat chaud which costs 40 cents out of the machine and is actually delicious. So all in all, still a good food day. Especially since my breakfast consisted of me stuffing an entire pain au lait (with chocolate chips!) into my mouth while I waited for the bus. Then after school I came home and ate some pig fat...or at least, some kind of pate with a whole lot of pig fat in it. Whatevs, it was delicious, and no I don't care that they did horrible things to the pig in order to get it that way. I'm a bad person, and maybe I will be reincarnated as a pig who is destined to be consumed by the barbaric two-legged beasts, but for the moment that doesn't bother me.
I would like to start writing some French lais, but I need to get some revisions of other things done, and I really hate revising sometimes. Also got an email from Hamilton saying that because I am a creative writing prize winner I have to read at family weekend, but luckily Europe is a pretty good excuse not to. Sucka. I hate reading aloud.
I need a lilac colored scarf ASAP, so I can match it with my shoelaces (in my green shoes) and look like a freak. Perhaps I'll buy one for dirt cheap (at least by French standards; but keep in mind that in France, even the dirt costs money) on the rue Mouffetard, or as we like to call it, the rue Mouff.
I wish my damned phone would get here soon o'clock so I could do some wandering without fear of death-by-starvation-because-of-my-inability-to-find-my-way-home, and also so I could actually communicate with les etudiantes by way of a more stable method than facebook.
J'ai faim, I'm going to go eat some saucisson.
Brandon: Is that an egg in your tuna sandwich?
Everyone: ...EW.
Et donc, j'ai jettee ce morceau du merde dans la pubelle. Then I ate a pain au chocolat and had a chocolat chaud which costs 40 cents out of the machine and is actually delicious. So all in all, still a good food day. Especially since my breakfast consisted of me stuffing an entire pain au lait (with chocolate chips!) into my mouth while I waited for the bus. Then after school I came home and ate some pig fat...or at least, some kind of pate with a whole lot of pig fat in it. Whatevs, it was delicious, and no I don't care that they did horrible things to the pig in order to get it that way. I'm a bad person, and maybe I will be reincarnated as a pig who is destined to be consumed by the barbaric two-legged beasts, but for the moment that doesn't bother me.
I would like to start writing some French lais, but I need to get some revisions of other things done, and I really hate revising sometimes. Also got an email from Hamilton saying that because I am a creative writing prize winner I have to read at family weekend, but luckily Europe is a pretty good excuse not to. Sucka. I hate reading aloud.
I need a lilac colored scarf ASAP, so I can match it with my shoelaces (in my green shoes) and look like a freak. Perhaps I'll buy one for dirt cheap (at least by French standards; but keep in mind that in France, even the dirt costs money) on the rue Mouffetard, or as we like to call it, the rue Mouff.
I wish my damned phone would get here soon o'clock so I could do some wandering without fear of death-by-starvation-because-of-my-inability-to-find-my-way-home, and also so I could actually communicate with les etudiantes by way of a more stable method than facebook.
J'ai faim, I'm going to go eat some saucisson.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
I'll just start by saying that three hours is WAY TOO FREAKING LONG FOR A CLASS. I know my classes at Skidmore were 3 hours long (and 3 times a week), but those were workshops. Thus, they were interesting. I do not want to discuss the conventions of theatre for three hours, especially when those conventions consist of "YOU SIT IN CHAIR," "YOU WATCH PLAY," "ACTORS ARE IN THE PLAY," "THERE IS A CURTAIN" etc. etc. Je veux mourrir.
Anyways.
Yesterday was my first day of classes, and it went as follows:
Litterature Francaise - unremarkable. The professor is apparently insane because she made us write a few paragraphs on a Saint Exupery quote on the first day, when she must know very well that we are A) idiots and B) not prepared to write paragraphs without a dictionary. Nutjob. But other than that she seemed nice, and we're starting with Baudelaire which should be fun. Especially since Valerie bought me the book (Le Spleen de Paris) as a present.
Also, the prof handed out these little info sheets (name, address, have you ever been to Paris before, etc.) and since I couldn't read it she made me just tell her the answers so she could write them down. The only problem being that the next few questions were "Name some great French literary works" which wasn't hard, and "And the century in which they were written" which was way harder than it should have been. Also, it wasn't fair because then the rest of the class just copied what I said (I know this because they told me, not because I am jumping to conclusions).
Grammaire - is going to be my favorite class, despite my hatred for and suckage at said subject. The woman is hilarious and really friendly, and she'll go on tangents whenever she gets the chance to explain the correct pronunciation or etymology of, or "the Parisian way to do" something.
Phonetique - is ridiculous. Right now we're learning the international phonetic alphabet (with all its incomprehensible symbols). While I can see where that is useful, I still can't really be interested in it. However, the prof is completely crazy--we played a game that involved yelling everyone's name and waving our arms as if we were throwing things into the trashcan in order to demonstrate how the emphasis is always on the last syllable of a name in French. Yes.
Paris Theatre - better get more interesting. The prof seems nice (she also seems to be younger than me, but I'm hoping that's just an illusion). The short version of what I think of this class is that I'm not switching out because I want to go to the Comedie Francaise for free. And that's all I need to say.
This morning I went to the library to see if they had Le Spleen de Paris so I wouldn't have to buy it, but after pretending like I knew what the librarian was saying for like 10 minutes I eventually realized that it was checked out and I would have to wait until Oct. 16th, which is our last class dedicated to the book. Boo. But then, since the library is on rue Mouffetard, I went and bought a petit baguette and a pain au chocolat (for 1.35...AHAHA I love my life). Then I came home and made myself a sandwich with said baguette and some boursin cheese and saucisson. And then I ate the pain au chocolat because I LOVE FOOD.
And, since Emma pointed out that this blog is 1/3 food related, I'm just going to go ahead and up that shit to 2/3 BECAUSE I CAN. And because I want to talk about the only negative thing about French food--the part where the roof of my mouth just behind my front teeth wants to die every time I eat a baguette sandwich...which is like every other day. Damnit. I hope it will toughen up and act like a man soon, because I don't think even a bleeding mouth will keep me from eating the aforementioned baguettes. They are too delicious. Also, I desperately want to go to Angelina's for chocolat africainne and a mont blanc, because I had some only-mildly-delicious chocolat chaud yesterday when I went to lunch with some kids, and it made me crave the melted-block-of-pure-chocolate that is Angelina's chocolat chaud. Plus, I can always go for a ball of chantilly whipped cream the size of my head. Actually, I think I can eat it only once every 5 years or something, but whatevs. On another food related note, I desperately want to try a cuisse (even though I don't know what cuisse means) of the rottisserie chickens on rue Mouffetard. They look so delicious and full of tasty drippings. Which sounds so incredibly nasty, but isn't, I swear.
Lastly, where can I get a pumpkin in France? Because I am hell-bent on buying one and making a jack-o-lantern for Valerie. Even though she won't know what it is. And even though she will probably think I have created an altar to satan and placed it upon her windowsill. I DON'T CARE. Maybe I'll get a beret for it and she'll like it better. And carve a curly moustache on it. Bahaha.
Anyways.
Yesterday was my first day of classes, and it went as follows:
Litterature Francaise - unremarkable. The professor is apparently insane because she made us write a few paragraphs on a Saint Exupery quote on the first day, when she must know very well that we are A) idiots and B) not prepared to write paragraphs without a dictionary. Nutjob. But other than that she seemed nice, and we're starting with Baudelaire which should be fun. Especially since Valerie bought me the book (Le Spleen de Paris) as a present.
Also, the prof handed out these little info sheets (name, address, have you ever been to Paris before, etc.) and since I couldn't read it she made me just tell her the answers so she could write them down. The only problem being that the next few questions were "Name some great French literary works" which wasn't hard, and "And the century in which they were written" which was way harder than it should have been. Also, it wasn't fair because then the rest of the class just copied what I said (I know this because they told me, not because I am jumping to conclusions).
Grammaire - is going to be my favorite class, despite my hatred for and suckage at said subject. The woman is hilarious and really friendly, and she'll go on tangents whenever she gets the chance to explain the correct pronunciation or etymology of, or "the Parisian way to do" something.
Phonetique - is ridiculous. Right now we're learning the international phonetic alphabet (with all its incomprehensible symbols). While I can see where that is useful, I still can't really be interested in it. However, the prof is completely crazy--we played a game that involved yelling everyone's name and waving our arms as if we were throwing things into the trashcan in order to demonstrate how the emphasis is always on the last syllable of a name in French. Yes.
Paris Theatre - better get more interesting. The prof seems nice (she also seems to be younger than me, but I'm hoping that's just an illusion). The short version of what I think of this class is that I'm not switching out because I want to go to the Comedie Francaise for free. And that's all I need to say.
This morning I went to the library to see if they had Le Spleen de Paris so I wouldn't have to buy it, but after pretending like I knew what the librarian was saying for like 10 minutes I eventually realized that it was checked out and I would have to wait until Oct. 16th, which is our last class dedicated to the book. Boo. But then, since the library is on rue Mouffetard, I went and bought a petit baguette and a pain au chocolat (for 1.35...AHAHA I love my life). Then I came home and made myself a sandwich with said baguette and some boursin cheese and saucisson. And then I ate the pain au chocolat because I LOVE FOOD.
And, since Emma pointed out that this blog is 1/3 food related, I'm just going to go ahead and up that shit to 2/3 BECAUSE I CAN. And because I want to talk about the only negative thing about French food--the part where the roof of my mouth just behind my front teeth wants to die every time I eat a baguette sandwich...which is like every other day. Damnit. I hope it will toughen up and act like a man soon, because I don't think even a bleeding mouth will keep me from eating the aforementioned baguettes. They are too delicious. Also, I desperately want to go to Angelina's for chocolat africainne and a mont blanc, because I had some only-mildly-delicious chocolat chaud yesterday when I went to lunch with some kids, and it made me crave the melted-block-of-pure-chocolate that is Angelina's chocolat chaud. Plus, I can always go for a ball of chantilly whipped cream the size of my head. Actually, I think I can eat it only once every 5 years or something, but whatevs. On another food related note, I desperately want to try a cuisse (even though I don't know what cuisse means) of the rottisserie chickens on rue Mouffetard. They look so delicious and full of tasty drippings. Which sounds so incredibly nasty, but isn't, I swear.
Lastly, where can I get a pumpkin in France? Because I am hell-bent on buying one and making a jack-o-lantern for Valerie. Even though she won't know what it is. And even though she will probably think I have created an altar to satan and placed it upon her windowsill. I DON'T CARE. Maybe I'll get a beret for it and she'll like it better. And carve a curly moustache on it. Bahaha.
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