Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Goodbye Cruel World, I'm off to Join the Circus

After a long haul here in Paris I finally have plans to leave tomorrow and head to Nice which is the southern coast. Thanks to my eurail pass that I anticiated would make my life infinitely easier, I have to go around my ass to get to my elbow but I managed to book a week in a gigantic hostel on the beach so I suppose its give and take.

I'm pretty sad to be leaving here now that I've gotten so comfortable with my family including my uncle who resembles my father so much I pooped my pants a little when I saw him. Fortunately, I'm pretty sure I'm welcome back in Paris anytime. I know this because Paris christened me as one of its citizens last week when I wore an outfit I had purchased completely on location and got shit on by pigeons twice that day. A bittersweet memory I like to think...

Thus far the best sweet thing I've eaten is either a palmier at a local bakery or my cousins chocolate almond cake; best savory was steak tartare and the best coffee (prepare to die) was McDonald's D'aim cappuchino. Its a coffee with little pieces of D'aim candy which are chocolate covered toffee. Europeans are always braging about how strong their coffee is and I'll tell you what, their teeth say it best: brown and rotten. I like my coffee particularly bastardized with loads of sugar and steamed milk, that's my American half. In addition the best thing I've done was by far Disneyland which I did today. My uncle says I have a shark smile (lots of big, white, teeth) and I spent the day with that smile plastered on my face as I ran around, rode every single ride, and noshed on candies. It was effing great, especially round two on It's a Small World and Space Mountain. I also want to make it clear that Disney Euro and Disney USA are NOT the same and even though some of the rides are titled similarly, those too are different. That being said I'd like to pay homage to the wheat fields behind my aunt and uncle's house because they come second, but not closely, to Mickey and his many companions who smoke, drink, and wear striped shirts.

For anyone who hasn't seen, check out my facebook for post voyage pictures. Sadly there won't be any from Disney Paris for a while because I forgot my camera battery and had to buy a disposable that cost me my life savings.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Baby Poop

I am still in Paris, however, I've moved on to staying with my cousins: Marie, David, and their two daughters Lucie and Louise (5 and 2). Although very happy to be here, the babies are either screaming, laughing or crying at any and all points of the day and I'm on the verge of sickness so I took it upon myself to invest in a pair of earplugs that come in a package marked "scilence is golden" as well as an eyemask. I use them for both sleeping and life.

Meanwhile I've gained about 5 lbs in cheese and another 5 in croissants because all the people I've visited remember one thing about me as a child...my affinity for food. It feels like someone took one of those big cheese wheels, cut a hole in the middle, and placed it around the middle of my waist. Muffin tops are infinitely less attractive when they're made of Saint Felician cheese (which just so happens to be in season right now).

In addition to getting fat I've managed to see all the major points of Paris at least once if not twice and am now skulking around parks like a creeper with sandwiches in my purse trying to find something to do while I pass the time until next weekend when I go to a wedding in Brittany followed by my immediate departure to Avignon where I'm ecstatic to be going because it will be warm enough to wear dresses and I won't have to crisco my fat ass into my skinny jeans anymore. Not much else to say, the sparkle of Paris wore off when I learned that getting shit on by pigeons is a huge fucking problem here, its probably the reason everyone looks so angry all the time. On a happier note, I am now the proud owner of a real Parisian striped shirt courtesy of my aunt.

Side note: out of everyone at home, school, and everywhere in between, I miss coeld blankie the most.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Mal au Pied

Paris streets weren't meant for walking, they weren't planned for driving or biking...they were planned by drunks with trucks full of cobblestones who had nowhere else to put them. For the last three days I've been attempting to see this city on foot and serves me right I suppose that today I walked until my feet bled, literally. With sandals its a matter of the straps rubbing your feet. In anything closed toe feet begin to swell and toes rub together causing mayhem in ones shoes that can't be seen but is very apparent through its crippling effects. I also want everyone to know that the shoes I wore today...the ones that caused the bleeding, were my tennis shoes and I blame you all for telling me they were better than my other crap ones.

On a lighter note, in the last three days I've managed to visit: the Eiffel Tower, Luxembourg Gardens, Sacre Couer, Musée d'Orsay, Arc de Triomphe, Louvre, Grande Epicerie du Paris, Fauchon, and a lot more other crap. Today it rained and was humid so no pictures exist to keep record of my hair/face however, I did decide to treat myself to a sit down lunch at a Japanese restaurant in the Latin quarter which was strangely better than all the fancy French food and fresh crépes I've been eating. The woman could tell I was starving and exhausted so she gave me free lychee dessert and immediately afterwards I had someone pay for my metro ticket which I consider karma for the fact that I gave my louvre ticket to a couple who culdnt afford to go in once I had finished in looking at all the stuff.

The Mona Lisa is actually BIGGER than I thought it'd be after I had so many people tell me it was small. Now I'm too tired to type and dinner is ready.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Bonjour à Paris!

I arrived in Paris yesterday morning and have been living my life as an elite socialite ever since. When we got here we napped and then Helen informed me that we would be going to a very chic part of town  so we took the metro into the subway where she bought me a gorgeous celadon dress that comes with a silk slip that only old holywood glamour and people in Paris are allowed to wear anymore. Afterwards we wined and dined then went to sleep.

When I got up this morning, the woman we're staying with immediately brought me espresso, oragnce juice, toast, honey, jam, four different types of cheese and a big bowl of fruit...cause I guess thats standard for breakfast. Afterwards I painted my nails red to match the premier of my red lipstick in Paris and out we went to some circle where the women have Kelly bags on their elbows and the biggest gold Chanel watches you've ever seen on their wrists. I'm pretty sure I'm too poor to be looking at these people. Afterwards I dragged Helen and Marie Pierre to the Eiffel Tower but they didn't want to go up so I drooled for a while, then moseyed on to continue my life as a fabulous Parisian. the best way to get people to theink you live here is to make a face like you just smelled shit and don't speak to anyone...especially not in English.

We wined, dined, and shopped all afternoon until my wedges gave me blisters then ate dinner outside a restaurant near the louvre with a zillion courses. Paris is so fucking fabulous and filled with beautiful men who know how to cook the best things you've ever tasted, I don't know how anyone who ever came here left voluntarily.

Mom and Dad: I'd like to cash in the new car you're supposed to buying me for my French passport because here the government gives you money, fashion school costs nothing and the dentist cleans your teeth for free! Granola-crunching Oregon can suck my big toe.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Buttery Belgium

On my last night in Amsterdam, that guy Ron cooked us dinner again (this time it was chicken tacos) and then we all went out dancing until the same came up, at which point I immediatey boarded a train for Brussels.

Words learned in Dutch:
Kaas = cheese
Prost = cheers
Winkel = store

So far Brussels has been like one really huge bad first date...except the reason we aren't talking isn't because we don't have anything to say, it's because we don't speak the same language. I am staying with Bertrand (dads friend) and his daughter Clementine who he said was 14 but is actually 13 going on 14. Whats with French people and telling people you're older?? His daughter is teeny tiny, she cant be more than 60 or 70 lbs and comâred to her I look like one huge ogre. She also speaks zero English but really enjoys talking at warp speed and trying to understand her is like having my head placed in a Chinese torture device.

Since I've been here we went to a BBQ where, upon arrival, there were desserts on the table. I just assumed a European BBQ was a get together not a cookout and took the liberty of trying the cheesecake, rhubarb tart, and mini cupcakes along with a cherry beer that was friggin excellent. Then apparently the cookout started and the had food up to my eyeballs (two different types of sausage, about 5 salads, three different quiche, and bread). As if that weren't enough they then brought out dessert round two that consisted of Chocolate covered strawberries, Belgian chocolate cake, and a strawberry cream tart. I died, went to heaven, then exploded.

In the mean time I've also managed to get completely lost, freeze my toes into submission, eat a fish just like in Julie and Julia cooked in butter where you have to pull the bone from the middle, discover the utter bliss of Belgian waffles/ french fries and attend another dinner party last night where they cooked couscous and served me beer in a very strange glass nearly impossible to drink from called "kwak."