Here are some miscellaneous pics of Paris throughout the summer. Sorry they're so late!
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Friday, September 28, 2007
Monday, August 6, 2007
for your general knowledge...
Apparently there is a difference in the French cheek kiss method if you're saying "adieu" and you will likely never see the person again, rather than a regular "aurevoir." Instead of two alternate cheek kisses, it's four back to back. This led to much confusion and a very awkward moment with my landlord.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Final French Thoughts
Being that I have 24 hours left before I depart, I figured I would reflect on this experience as a whole (I am quite bored with no TV or schoolwork to do. You can only readjust a suitcase so many times). I can say for the first time ever that I will not return home completely loathing France. And if you know my general opinion about French people due to my previous experiences, that's a huge change. Paris is a much different city than Lyon; it's massively diverse in its neighborhoods and populations. There are tons of foreigners here- tourists, immigrants, etc.- so the feeling of being out of place wasn't nearly as strong for me as in Lyon. This past weekend two different Parisians asked me for directions and I knew exactly where to tell them to go; I felt more at home here in two months than I did in six when I was in college.
Now that I've had years of distance from that experience, I realize the good things about Lyon but also know that I had it particularly rough: being an unpaid au pair, the physical assault by a 12 year old, the constant feeling of being on the defensive. I didn't get to go back there to visit, but I think I should have, to give it another chance. Living in Paris this summer has made me a little less cynical, which I didn't know was possible. I encountered more good-natured people here than evil ones and for that I'm happy. I'm happy that for once when I'm asked about my time in France I can say with certainty that I'm glad I came.
Now that I've had years of distance from that experience, I realize the good things about Lyon but also know that I had it particularly rough: being an unpaid au pair, the physical assault by a 12 year old, the constant feeling of being on the defensive. I didn't get to go back there to visit, but I think I should have, to give it another chance. Living in Paris this summer has made me a little less cynical, which I didn't know was possible. I encountered more good-natured people here than evil ones and for that I'm happy. I'm happy that for once when I'm asked about my time in France I can say with certainty that I'm glad I came.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
free at last
I have finished my last paper ever for NYU. Though it may be 15 pages of garbage in broken French, it is done. My classes end tomorrow and then I can escape to Avignon. Less than 1 week to go!
Monday, July 30, 2007
A trip to Champagne
So my roommate and I took a day trip last week to Champagne, where you guessed it, they make champagne. We went on a distillery tour, which ended up being more like a ride at Ginty Carnival. In a motorized car in the pitch dark, we went through the cellars where there were random statues of men in different poses: cutting the grapes, stacking bottles, etc. They could have definitely invested more in making it a bit more engaging. The last part of the ride was this homage to the movie Casablanca (??) with a plastic Humphrey Bogart mannequin drinking the champagne (??). Needless to say, the tour was only worth the free tasting at the end.
To kill some time before our train home, we wandered into the Gallo-Roman crypts, a historical site that we thought sounded interesting. As French history enthusiasts, we were expecting a museum-type ambience that explained the importance of such a site. Well instead, it was a halloween freakshow. There were hanging rubber masks, and as you see in the pictures below, inexplicable props with no overall theme or a sign that explained why they were even there. Good good times.
To kill some time before our train home, we wandered into the Gallo-Roman crypts, a historical site that we thought sounded interesting. As French history enthusiasts, we were expecting a museum-type ambience that explained the importance of such a site. Well instead, it was a halloween freakshow. There were hanging rubber masks, and as you see in the pictures below, inexplicable props with no overall theme or a sign that explained why they were even there. Good good times.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The most American place in France
My visit to Normandy this past weekend showed me a completely different side of what I'm used to in France. The people were friendly and complimented me on my French (!) and even said "God Bless You" when I told them I was from the US. It was seriously like an alternate universe.
Going to see the actual WWII sights was truly an awesome experience. And I'm not a war person; I couldn't sit through the first half-hour of Saving Private Ryan and I generally try to avoid thinking about the devastation of such things. But to see what those guys went through made the whole thing seem much more real, and when people actually thank you for what your country did in this day and age, it just shows you the magnitude of what happened in 1944 France.
We visited both the German cemetery and the famous American one. The German cemetery was very awkward in general; black crosses here and there, austere stones for graves. Needless to say, it was very German. There was a designated area where the unidentified bodies were buried, most of which were Hitler Youth under the age of 18. And while you do feel sad that people so young could be so misled, it was hard to have sympathy.
The American Cemetery had a completely different ambience. The fields of white crosses above Omaha Beach and the ocean below were just amazing. I've been to a lot of inspiring places- the Grand Canyon, the Parthenon, etc.- but this was absolutely the most moving place I've ever experienced by far.
Monday, July 23, 2007
A Tale of Two "Hotel" Rooms
So I went travelling by myself this past weekend to Normandy and Brittany to see the WWII historical sites and the ocean. My first day was spent in Bayeux in this amazing chateau/guesthouse where my bed had a giant headboard, an embroidered duvet cover, and a shower with actual hot water. AND a television! I felt like royalty for only 45 euros a night. When you live in an apartment with virtually no hot water and sleep on a two-inch foam pad instead of a mattress, these things make your whole week.
After a long day of touring the WWII sites with Bertrand, my French tour guide, I came home and just layed in my fabulous bed and watched ridiculous French game shows all night long. It was glorious.
The next morning, I left for Mont St. Michel, this really ornate church literally in the middle of nowhere in the English Channel. My train left really early, and as you probably know, I am not a morning person. OF COURSE, who is on my train out of all the people in the entire city? Bertrand the tour guide. Yes, I had to chat it up en francais for two hours about my favorite subjects like "I didn't vote for President Bush so don't blame me" and "What the French really think about Americans" when all I wanted was sleep.
So I get to Pontorson, a village in the middle of serious nothingness, to go to Mt. St. Michel. I go see the church, blah blah, and make it back to this village within 2 hours, as I am an efficient sightseer. Well, in small French villages, train stations just shut down for hours in the middle of the day. So I stood in the pouring rain for SIX HOURS waiting to buy a ticket for the next wretched train. Needless to say, day 2 is not going well.
So I finally make it to my next stop, the walled city of St. Malo on the Brittany Coast. The train station is a 20 min walk to town, so I walked to the city in search of my hotel, which is nowhere to be found. After an hour of wandering aimlessly, I give up and go to the Tourist Office, where I am informed that my "hotel" is in an INDUSTRIAL PARK 30 MIN AWAY. Online, it advertised that it was 100 meters from the beach in the center of town. Now hungry, exhausted and irate, I book it to the train station to try to go back to Paris immediately. Since customer service does not exist here, I could not exchange my ticket because I got a student fare, and thus paid $5 less than the other ticketholders. So I am now forced to spend the night in an industrial zone, fantastic.
The "hotel" was worse than I imagined. Let's do the checklist:
1) Above a bar and run by a shady robe-wearing barmaid? Check.
2) Graffiti on the walls? Check.
3) Drunk people asleep in the stairwells? Check.
4) A communal toilet that defies description. Check.
Let's just say that this place made Tom Hanks's first apartment in Big look like a palace. So I didn't leave the room at all, didn't pee for 12 hours, and cried in the fetal position until I sort of fell asleep on top of the covers, and a towel, in my clothes.
I won't go into the next day but let's just say someone decided to committ suicide on my train line and it took me 7 HOURS to get back to Paris. My unluckiness is absolutely legendary.
After a long day of touring the WWII sites with Bertrand, my French tour guide, I came home and just layed in my fabulous bed and watched ridiculous French game shows all night long. It was glorious.
The next morning, I left for Mont St. Michel, this really ornate church literally in the middle of nowhere in the English Channel. My train left really early, and as you probably know, I am not a morning person. OF COURSE, who is on my train out of all the people in the entire city? Bertrand the tour guide. Yes, I had to chat it up en francais for two hours about my favorite subjects like "I didn't vote for President Bush so don't blame me" and "What the French really think about Americans" when all I wanted was sleep.
So I get to Pontorson, a village in the middle of serious nothingness, to go to Mt. St. Michel. I go see the church, blah blah, and make it back to this village within 2 hours, as I am an efficient sightseer. Well, in small French villages, train stations just shut down for hours in the middle of the day. So I stood in the pouring rain for SIX HOURS waiting to buy a ticket for the next wretched train. Needless to say, day 2 is not going well.
So I finally make it to my next stop, the walled city of St. Malo on the Brittany Coast. The train station is a 20 min walk to town, so I walked to the city in search of my hotel, which is nowhere to be found. After an hour of wandering aimlessly, I give up and go to the Tourist Office, where I am informed that my "hotel" is in an INDUSTRIAL PARK 30 MIN AWAY. Online, it advertised that it was 100 meters from the beach in the center of town. Now hungry, exhausted and irate, I book it to the train station to try to go back to Paris immediately. Since customer service does not exist here, I could not exchange my ticket because I got a student fare, and thus paid $5 less than the other ticketholders. So I am now forced to spend the night in an industrial zone, fantastic.
The "hotel" was worse than I imagined. Let's do the checklist:
1) Above a bar and run by a shady robe-wearing barmaid? Check.
2) Graffiti on the walls? Check.
3) Drunk people asleep in the stairwells? Check.
4) A communal toilet that defies description. Check.
Let's just say that this place made Tom Hanks's first apartment in Big look like a palace. So I didn't leave the room at all, didn't pee for 12 hours, and cried in the fetal position until I sort of fell asleep on top of the covers, and a towel, in my clothes.
I won't go into the next day but let's just say someone decided to committ suicide on my train line and it took me 7 HOURS to get back to Paris. My unluckiness is absolutely legendary.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Joyeuse Fete Nationale (aka Bastille Day)
Happy French National Day. Woohoo. Today my roomate and I basically pretended it was the fourth of July, since we missed the festivities back home, and drank beers on our balcony and watched the fireworks along the Seine. French people are rather lackadaisical about them; they just casually stand there smoking and don't "oooh" and "aaah" like we do. The fireworks were amazing, except there was no wind to blow the smoke away, so they were hard to see. As we were walking home, some teenagers threw a firecracker in a crowd of us and it went off under a baby stroller. Needless to say, it was not a good scene, though no one got hurt. Apparently setting off your own fireworks is legal here because everyone seems to be doing it, including the old lady across the street who randomly shot some out of her window last night.
So I'm taking refuge inside my apartment for the rest of the night, as to not get disfigured in some freak bottle rocket accident.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
You may have a newfound respect for NY bums...
Having spent much of my time in New York and in French cities, I think I can make a fair assessment of the homeless people of both cultures. Living in Lyon, bums were so prevalent in my neighborhood that we had affectionate nicknames for them, like Naked Bum and Wretched Bum (who sometimes walked with a cane slumped over, and other times was walking just fine). These characters never really aggressively asked for anything, and if you didn't want to give them anything, they didn't care. Most of you have had your sketchy experience with NYC bums, but most are gracious and say "God Bless You," or offer different payment options, like one creative guy in Washington Square Park who accepts Visa, Amex, and NYU Campus Cash.
Well, last night my friends experienced the ultimate worst encounter with a homeless person. While eating outside, a bum approached their table and asked for money and or food. They refused, as grad students are more possessive of food that they've paid for than most. As "revenge," he did something unreal, yet also believable. The man dropped trow in the middle of the sidewalk and POOPED right in front of them. In broad daylight.
Hearing this story reminded me of walking to class yesterday, when a man clearly on his way to work, whipped it out and started peeing on a car right in front of us, ignoring the free public toilets half a block away. Now, I don't know if there's something here about exhibitionism that just doesn't exist in the US, but I've never seen a Wall Street broker pee on a car during the morning rush. Funny that the words "etiquette" and "hygiene" are both of French origin.
Well, last night my friends experienced the ultimate worst encounter with a homeless person. While eating outside, a bum approached their table and asked for money and or food. They refused, as grad students are more possessive of food that they've paid for than most. As "revenge," he did something unreal, yet also believable. The man dropped trow in the middle of the sidewalk and POOPED right in front of them. In broad daylight.
Hearing this story reminded me of walking to class yesterday, when a man clearly on his way to work, whipped it out and started peeing on a car right in front of us, ignoring the free public toilets half a block away. Now, I don't know if there's something here about exhibitionism that just doesn't exist in the US, but I've never seen a Wall Street broker pee on a car during the morning rush. Funny that the words "etiquette" and "hygiene" are both of French origin.
Monday, July 9, 2007
A Day in the Life...
So today was an odd day, even before we reached the afternoon.
1) It was so cold that we could see our breath walking to class. It's JULY. I would definitely rather not have the summer stench of 90 degree weather here, but it's a bit too extreme to need to wear a scarf on July 9th.
2) We had to give a group presentation in class today on the nasal vowels in French, which really are the most awkward, annoying sounds in the language like eeeeeeehhhnn, oooooooowwwnnn, and aaaahhhhnnnn. So basically, standing up there making ridiculous sounds in front of people to start the day is just great. One of the parts of our presentation was tongue twisters, as it's a good way to teach kids how to perfect their pronuniciation. Well, apparently, whoever was in charge of these exercises completely forgot to proofread them, and thus the tongue twister on our handout was: "It's not nice to touch your aunt's tits when your uncle has left the room." A+ for inappropriateness.
3) On the way home, still able to see our breath, my roommate got absolutely clobbered by a man running out of control down the street. I mean, football-style take-down. The guy didn't even turn around to say excuse me; he didn't even flinch. So I screamed "Pardon a toi," which is completely incorrect grammatically, and he ran out into oncoming traffic. I really need to work on my spontaneous defensive speech.
All this goodness before noon. So I came home and took a loooong nap.
1) It was so cold that we could see our breath walking to class. It's JULY. I would definitely rather not have the summer stench of 90 degree weather here, but it's a bit too extreme to need to wear a scarf on July 9th.
2) We had to give a group presentation in class today on the nasal vowels in French, which really are the most awkward, annoying sounds in the language like eeeeeeehhhnn, oooooooowwwnnn, and aaaahhhhnnnn. So basically, standing up there making ridiculous sounds in front of people to start the day is just great. One of the parts of our presentation was tongue twisters, as it's a good way to teach kids how to perfect their pronuniciation. Well, apparently, whoever was in charge of these exercises completely forgot to proofread them, and thus the tongue twister on our handout was: "It's not nice to touch your aunt's tits when your uncle has left the room." A+ for inappropriateness.
3) On the way home, still able to see our breath, my roommate got absolutely clobbered by a man running out of control down the street. I mean, football-style take-down. The guy didn't even turn around to say excuse me; he didn't even flinch. So I screamed "Pardon a toi," which is completely incorrect grammatically, and he ran out into oncoming traffic. I really need to work on my spontaneous defensive speech.
All this goodness before noon. So I came home and took a loooong nap.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
An Expatriate Fourth of July
So, there's nothing sadder on the 4th than:
a) being in a country with NO GRILLS
b) being in a country where you can't trust the red meat
c) being in the most anti-american country aside from the Soviet Union on America day.
We began the day by drinking wine at noon, accompanied by our history professor. That's the one good thing about France: professors aren't put out if you come to class a little buzzed. And after the six straight hours of class, which is sacrilege today, we naturally came home and drank more wine.
Good times. There's nothing like living abroad to make you feel even more American. ESPECIALLY living here amongst such an opposite culture. I'm sad to not be home, and I will go to sleep tonight dreaming of Nathan's hot dogs, fireworks, and LBI.
a) being in a country with NO GRILLS
b) being in a country where you can't trust the red meat
c) being in the most anti-american country aside from the Soviet Union on America day.
We began the day by drinking wine at noon, accompanied by our history professor. That's the one good thing about France: professors aren't put out if you come to class a little buzzed. And after the six straight hours of class, which is sacrilege today, we naturally came home and drank more wine.
Good times. There's nothing like living abroad to make you feel even more American. ESPECIALLY living here amongst such an opposite culture. I'm sad to not be home, and I will go to sleep tonight dreaming of Nathan's hot dogs, fireworks, and LBI.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
My Hideous Apartment
Now, I appreciate a Floridian seascape backdrop as much as you do, especially when used to create an 80s prom picture ambience. But when the seascape is a giant wall mural in your apartment, you may think twice. The good thing is that it's definitely the hit of our little parties, and I think the only reason many choose to come. We plan on having several theme nights focusing on our mural in the weeks to come, including dirty sheet toga night and wedding alter re-enactments.
Our party last week definitely took on the prom theme. Notice Sarah's perfectly placed prom arm. Love it.
Our party last week definitely took on the prom theme. Notice Sarah's perfectly placed prom arm. Love it.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Danes can thrown down...
As many of you know, I went to Denmark to attend my friend Tim's wedding to his Danish fiancee, Maiken. Now, I really didn't know what to expect with regard to customs and proper manners at such an occasion, so here are some interesting facts about Danish weddings:
1) Champagne bottles are opened with machetes. Yes, machetes. They lop off the entire top of the bottle, and it's really amazing we didn't swallow shards of glass.
2) "Viking games" are encouraged during the reception, such as spitting and throwing contests.
3) The reception consists of two parts: four hours of speeches with dinner followed by dancing. Now, the four hours of speeches seemed a bit intimidating at first, but each person that got up to speak sounded like they were out of a movie. So poignant, sincere, and perfectly delivered.
Being that we were consuming as much of the free wine as humanly possible and the mood was getting quite emotional with all the speeches, we challenged Mia to join the amazing locuteurs with one of her own using the following completely random key words and phrases we assigned to her: "birds of a feather," "Croatia," and "magical journey," amongst many others. Fortunately, she backed out, because us lushes at the back table would have peed our pants. I wonder why Tim sat us wedding liabilities at the back table.
1) Champagne bottles are opened with machetes. Yes, machetes. They lop off the entire top of the bottle, and it's really amazing we didn't swallow shards of glass.
2) "Viking games" are encouraged during the reception, such as spitting and throwing contests.
3) The reception consists of two parts: four hours of speeches with dinner followed by dancing. Now, the four hours of speeches seemed a bit intimidating at first, but each person that got up to speak sounded like they were out of a movie. So poignant, sincere, and perfectly delivered.
Being that we were consuming as much of the free wine as humanly possible and the mood was getting quite emotional with all the speeches, we challenged Mia to join the amazing locuteurs with one of her own using the following completely random key words and phrases we assigned to her: "birds of a feather," "Croatia," and "magical journey," amongst many others. Fortunately, she backed out, because us lushes at the back table would have peed our pants. I wonder why Tim sat us wedding liabilities at the back table.
Aaaand we're back...
How I love France. Within the first FIVE MINUTES of being back in this god forsaken place, I was forced to call a lady on the subway a bitch. And I'm not one for public confrontations, but when you cut in front of me in line at the ticket machine and then call me stupid, then it's on.
I've started my classes, the main reason that I'm here this summer, which I pretty much forgot about. There's nothing like 3 weeks of straight drinking and travelling to get you prepared for 6 straight hours of lecture each day.
So instead of summarizing the trip, I figured I'd give a quick recap of each place we visited with some valuable lessons for your own future travelling.
1) Dublin: Beware of French male prostitutes looking to pick you up. Yes, seriously.
2) Paris: Be suspicious of everyone. Even the old lady at the supermarket will have some unsolicited advice for you about how to dress or how to properly pack your groceries. Bring a cardigan or extra t-shirt to cover your face on the metro from the cloud of odor in which you will be immersed.
3) Zurich: Don't get too close to the swans. They attack. And you can drink out of the fountains here, which is weird, but might as well avoid paying for the $4 bottle of water.
4) Munich: Be prepared to gain 10 pounds in 2 days on bratwurst and liter beers. Also beware of senior citizens who frequent beer gardens to attempt to pick up American tourists half their age.
5) Berlin: It's fun to imitate Germans in complete gibberish when you know they've just insulted you. They do not find this amusing. I also recommend strapping yourself into any night train bunks and avoiding general sightseeing in the countryside, due to the landmines (tip courtesy of tourist information desk).
6) Stockholm and Gothenburg, Sweden: Buy your alcohol early because the stores close at 6 pm. I have never experienced such confusion.
7) Norway: Little blonde Nordic children may seem cute, but they can ruin entire train rides.
8) Denmark: Some hotels here don't know the difference between credit and debit, and you may get into a fight with the receptionist who keeps telling you to enter your pin on your credit card.
9) London: Just throw your wallet over the gates of Buckingham Palace because your $ will be gone soon enough anyway.
More pics to come this week!
I've started my classes, the main reason that I'm here this summer, which I pretty much forgot about. There's nothing like 3 weeks of straight drinking and travelling to get you prepared for 6 straight hours of lecture each day.
So instead of summarizing the trip, I figured I'd give a quick recap of each place we visited with some valuable lessons for your own future travelling.
1) Dublin: Beware of French male prostitutes looking to pick you up. Yes, seriously.
2) Paris: Be suspicious of everyone. Even the old lady at the supermarket will have some unsolicited advice for you about how to dress or how to properly pack your groceries. Bring a cardigan or extra t-shirt to cover your face on the metro from the cloud of odor in which you will be immersed.
3) Zurich: Don't get too close to the swans. They attack. And you can drink out of the fountains here, which is weird, but might as well avoid paying for the $4 bottle of water.
4) Munich: Be prepared to gain 10 pounds in 2 days on bratwurst and liter beers. Also beware of senior citizens who frequent beer gardens to attempt to pick up American tourists half their age.
5) Berlin: It's fun to imitate Germans in complete gibberish when you know they've just insulted you. They do not find this amusing. I also recommend strapping yourself into any night train bunks and avoiding general sightseeing in the countryside, due to the landmines (tip courtesy of tourist information desk).
6) Stockholm and Gothenburg, Sweden: Buy your alcohol early because the stores close at 6 pm. I have never experienced such confusion.
7) Norway: Little blonde Nordic children may seem cute, but they can ruin entire train rides.
8) Denmark: Some hotels here don't know the difference between credit and debit, and you may get into a fight with the receptionist who keeps telling you to enter your pin on your credit card.
9) London: Just throw your wallet over the gates of Buckingham Palace because your $ will be gone soon enough anyway.
More pics to come this week!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Scandinavia = pretty but no booze
So we are ending our tour of Scandinavia this week, later in Denmark for Tim's wedding, but today we are in the lovely port town of Gothenburg, Sweden, at a 7-11 checking our email. We started our trek taking an overnight train from Berlin to Malmo, Sweden, that literally looked like a metal toy train from 1957 Christmas pictures. There were 3 cars total with distressed looking interiors. Needless to say after being in the Reich for 3 days, we weren't surprised. What also wasn't surprising was that the conductor was clearly drunk, taking sharp turns at lightning speeds while we slipped all over the shower compartment hanging on to the towel racks for dear life. Mia actually had to be strapped in her bed, as to not roll off 2 stories below to the linoleum floor. I, on the other hand, popped 2 Klonopin, as prescribed, and was totally knocked out. When the train stopped in god knows where and men started screaming in different languages, Mia's cries for help could not be heard by me at all. That's how sedated I was.
So we survived and reached the endless sunshine of Stockholm. Seriously, we went to the bar and it was light out; we came out of the bar and the sun was rising at 3:30 am. We ended up at a locals' bar by accident and met some cool Swedes, including Johann, who you will see in next week's picture postings. We then took the WORST EVER bus ride from Stockholm to Oslo in the middle of the night where I almost overflowed the toilet on the bus and caused a riot.
We arrived in Oslo at the crack of dawn and got on yet another train to Bergen on the West coast and through fjord country. The train ride was amazing... glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, etc. After a long day of dealing with Japanese tourists, we took the night train back to Oslo yet again. No drunk driver this time. Why, you ask? Because Scandinavian countries don't sell liquor past 6 PM!! No wonder the Swedish train conductor was getting hammered in Germany. So yes, we are sober in Sweden departing for Copenhagen tomorrow, beginning our last leg of our trip together.
I'll post all the pics next week because I'm not uploading them in some shady 7-11 internet kiosk, so expect numerous emails!
So we survived and reached the endless sunshine of Stockholm. Seriously, we went to the bar and it was light out; we came out of the bar and the sun was rising at 3:30 am. We ended up at a locals' bar by accident and met some cool Swedes, including Johann, who you will see in next week's picture postings. We then took the WORST EVER bus ride from Stockholm to Oslo in the middle of the night where I almost overflowed the toilet on the bus and caused a riot.
We arrived in Oslo at the crack of dawn and got on yet another train to Bergen on the West coast and through fjord country. The train ride was amazing... glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, etc. After a long day of dealing with Japanese tourists, we took the night train back to Oslo yet again. No drunk driver this time. Why, you ask? Because Scandinavian countries don't sell liquor past 6 PM!! No wonder the Swedish train conductor was getting hammered in Germany. So yes, we are sober in Sweden departing for Copenhagen tomorrow, beginning our last leg of our trip together.
I'll post all the pics next week because I'm not uploading them in some shady 7-11 internet kiosk, so expect numerous emails!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Eingeschlagen
This is a very important word to know in German, as we found out this morning at the tourist information desk. Mia and I wanted to tour a nearby concentration camp, so we went to the tramline and the ticket lady kept sternly telling us that we couldn't go. We didn't really get it, so we decided to go to the train station instead. Still couldn't figure out what train to catch. So we decide to ask the tourist info guy for help and he also tells us that we can't go there. At this point, we're starting to think that the Germans are trying to steer us clear of WWII evidence. The guy tells us in broken English that the train track doesn't work, but he can't think of the English word. So he starts repeating "Eingeschlagen! Eingeschlagen!" and basically starts doing charades while the whole tourist office is staring at us and laughing. We're guessing all the wrong things- construction, the train already left, etc. It wasn't until he gestured digging something out of the ground and made an explosion sound that we realized that the track was closed for underground bomb clean-up. Yes, we needed to use the train on the one day since 1945 that they finally decide to do some archaeology. Apparently, Eingeschlagen means flattened, destroyed, bombed. Definitely keep note of that for future reference.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
David Hasselhoff is no joke...
Greetings fröm Germäny, the land of sausage, leiderhosen, and genocide. It really is a beautiful country, but it's impossible to not constantly think of its awful history. We are staying in the Eastern part of Berlin, and we immediately felt the presence of communist influence the second we got off the train: graffiti everywhere, stark buildings, German shepherds running wild in the streets. There are parts of the city that are up-and-coming, but this city's past still seems to overwhelm it.
I'm happy to let you know that the icon status of David Hasselhoff here is, in fact, true. Even in Switzerland before crossing the border, our TV had what seemed like one 3 hour long episode of Knight Rider naturally followed by Baywatch. When I was at the Berlin Wall today, imagining what it would have been like to be confined and controlled, I also imagined what it must have been like to experience the amazing moment when The Hoff stood on top of the crumbling wall, lip synching wearing a keyboard scarf, and took credit for ending the Cold War. Such a political force he is.
I'm happy to let you know that the icon status of David Hasselhoff here is, in fact, true. Even in Switzerland before crossing the border, our TV had what seemed like one 3 hour long episode of Knight Rider naturally followed by Baywatch. When I was at the Berlin Wall today, imagining what it would have been like to be confined and controlled, I also imagined what it must have been like to experience the amazing moment when The Hoff stood on top of the crumbling wall, lip synching wearing a keyboard scarf, and took credit for ending the Cold War. Such a political force he is.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Nudity and Streetfights
Only in Paris do you get the opportunity to see 100 naked people riding bikes and an out-of-control streetfight in a single afternoon. As we were crossing the Pont Neuf after a lovely afternoon of sightseeing, I saw a completely naked senior citizen standing in an intersection. Then as we rounded the corner, there were at least 100 more nude cyclists, most of whom really should never, ever go without clothes.
Later that day, while still recovering from the trauma of the naked bikers, we see the car coming toward us down the street stop short and we hear a loud bang. We thought the car hit a parked car. Nope, the guy hit a little boy who ran out into the street. So everyone goes running over to see if he's okay, the driver gets out, and the kid's father comes running. The kid is screaming at the top of his lungs and his father picks him up, and he and the driver started having words. Well, things got heated fast and the dad dropped his crippled child onto the pavement to start punching the guy in the face. So they just start going at it while the kid is wailing on the ground. Amazing parenting.
Going to the White Stripes concert tonight and off to Switzerland tomorrow, where the people are historically neutral and usually clothed.
Later that day, while still recovering from the trauma of the naked bikers, we see the car coming toward us down the street stop short and we hear a loud bang. We thought the car hit a parked car. Nope, the guy hit a little boy who ran out into the street. So everyone goes running over to see if he's okay, the driver gets out, and the kid's father comes running. The kid is screaming at the top of his lungs and his father picks him up, and he and the driver started having words. Well, things got heated fast and the dad dropped his crippled child onto the pavement to start punching the guy in the face. So they just start going at it while the kid is wailing on the ground. Amazing parenting.
Going to the White Stripes concert tonight and off to Switzerland tomorrow, where the people are historically neutral and usually clothed.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Grenouilles (frogs)
We made it to France despite the 2:45 am departure from Dublin. I miss Ireland already...the friendly, helpful people, the beer, the English-speaking. Mia and I have already been insulted twice by the locals: 1) at the market, we didn't weigh the red pepper and got made fun of by the magrebhin salesman (direct quote: "wake up ladies! you have to weigh the pepper!), 2) the chinese grocery store cashier told me that i wasn't holding my bags properly because apparently americans are so dumb that we don't know how to hold a plastic bag.
so, yes, how i've missed this place. the insults, sexual harrassmentl, and constant sense of self-shame that they bring out in you for not being like them. i don't know about you but i don't think i'd want to constantly smell like BO, be hairy, and wear a fanny pack.
the one positive thing right now: 4 bottles of wine for 10 euros and a view of the Eiffel tower from my balcony.
Irish Times
So, we arrived in Dublin on Wednesday AM, slept off the jet lag, and proceeded to the Dublin pubs. Drunks are expected in Ireland as much as the rain, so it wasn't really shocking when we went to Temple Bar and encountered the drunkest girl we've ever seen in our lives.
This girl rolls up to the bar with her shirt pulled up to her boobs and her underwear sticking out of her pants. Sign #1 that it's time to take your friend home. Well, her "friend" that was with her had gray teeth (yes, gray) and reeked of garlic. We concluded that they were Eastern Europeans and I'm pretty sure that we were right.
So, Mia and I are at the bar minding our pints and our own business when psychodrunk from Bratislava comes up to the bar and literally pushes Mia off the stool. She then starts pounding her fists on the bar screaming "Shaaaaanty!!" Obviously no one knew wtf was up with this girl. She then starts screaming for a pen "Shaaanty! Pen!!" and the confused bartender gave her a postcard. Of course, she wrote Shaaanty on it and grabbed the bartender by his collar screaming Shaanty.
I decided to go outside and consult with Gray Tooth about the misfortune of her friend. "Your friend is self-destructing in the bar, big time" and the response was "Oh well, she's drunk." Way to be a wingman.
So the bouncer kicked her out after she was practically holding onto the bar for dear life screaming Shaaaaaaaaaaaanty.
Good, good times.
This girl rolls up to the bar with her shirt pulled up to her boobs and her underwear sticking out of her pants. Sign #1 that it's time to take your friend home. Well, her "friend" that was with her had gray teeth (yes, gray) and reeked of garlic. We concluded that they were Eastern Europeans and I'm pretty sure that we were right.
So, Mia and I are at the bar minding our pints and our own business when psychodrunk from Bratislava comes up to the bar and literally pushes Mia off the stool. She then starts pounding her fists on the bar screaming "Shaaaaanty!!" Obviously no one knew wtf was up with this girl. She then starts screaming for a pen "Shaaanty! Pen!!" and the confused bartender gave her a postcard. Of course, she wrote Shaaanty on it and grabbed the bartender by his collar screaming Shaanty.
I decided to go outside and consult with Gray Tooth about the misfortune of her friend. "Your friend is self-destructing in the bar, big time" and the response was "Oh well, she's drunk." Way to be a wingman.
So the bouncer kicked her out after she was practically holding onto the bar for dear life screaming Shaaaaaaaaaaaanty.
Good, good times.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
NYU Legend
An absolute Washington Park treasure. The out-of-control in-need-of-Prozac French Poodle. No words.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Two weeks to go...
It's 1:00 am on a Wednesday night. As most normal people, I'm drinking wine and watching Cops (of course, a Fort Worth episode). Let's just say that I don't know what I'll do without my late night white trash TV in France. Their "late night" programming comes on at about 7 pm and mainly consists of naked girls dancing around together in commercials to promote orange juice and much worse scenarios along the same lines. So, I'm trying to fit in all of my Cops, Court TV, Judge Judy, and Golden Girls reruns before I leave. I know Laurel Fain Mills will understand this dilemma.
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