The other night we finally made it to Canela, the best restaurant in Barcelona and also one of the cheapest.
The restaurant claims it's food is, 'Creative Mediterranean Cuisine'
Yes, it was! No ham in sight. I ordered ravioli with shrimp and some sort of cheese garlic sauce. It came, with the shrimpies looking alive. Heads, tails, shells, butts, everything. They actually tasted amazing though. And then I began in on the rav's. At this point, it was a little warm in the restaurant. There was air conditioning but we weren't sitting very close to the unit. I ordered a coke and it came, but not with ice because Europe exiled ice back in the 1700's.
I continue to eat the very tasty food when I realize I am eating hot peppers. I started sweating. As in, full on, soccer in the summer in Missouri sweating. I think I am having a reaction to the food. It was really not good. Ila and Martin were of course, laughing at me but I really couldn't cool down. I stopped eating what I thought were the peppers and after about 20 minutes and some water, I began to cool down.
Literally, if you don't believe me, ask Martin. I made him feel my leg which was covered in sweat. He was disgusted.
The rest of the meal was fabulous, even though my veal was a bit tough. Ila's chicken thing was great and Martin had really good duck. Then we even ate dessert. After all of this, you would think we paid a fortune. But we managed to leave the restaurant only 23 euros lighter, each. Wow! I think we are going to return there for our last meal in Barcelona tomorrow night. Note to self: unless carrying an ice pack and a hankerchief, avoid red peppers in Spain. Unless you have been eating spicy food for a while and aren't out of shape like me!!!
During the conversation, we came across the topic of hair cuts. We were explaining to Martin the disgust Americans feel towards The Mullet. And how it is somehow very fashionable to have a mullet here.
Martin just recently got a haircut. And he was well aware of the "Spanish look." He also lives in the area we do, known as Boys Town. He went to the hair salon after looking up specific words for "Normal" "Haircut" "All-one-length" and "No Mullet!" (I took some liberty with which words Martin actually looked up, although I am guessing they were pretty close to these)
He went to the salon and it turns out, the girl who was cutting his hair was German. Thus, he ended up telling her exactly what he wanted. In his words, he was deathly afraid of coming out of the salon "Looking like a Gay-Spaniard!"
Thank God the world is flat.
La Playa, La Plage, The Beach
Today's episode will focus primarily on that beacon of hope known to all Spaniards as... the beach.
Barcelona has many city beaches. Unfortunately, it also has many tourists and citizens who GO to these beaches. And even more unfortunate is that many people have cultivated businesses on these beaches selling anything you could think of under the sun. Literally.
So you are sitting on this hot beach, just next to the city, lathering on the sunscreen when you hear what I refer to as the "Barcelona Beach Chant." It goes a little something like this:
Agua, Fanta, Cerveza, Cola
Cola, Agua, Fanta, Coca Cola Light
Cold Bier, Agua my friends
Interspersed with drink suggestions is:
Masaje, Massage?
Masaje, chicas?
And, my personal favorite:
Emmmm---panadas!
Emmmmm---panadas!
EMM---PANADAS!
You mix these all together and throw in a few coco's, the occasional Tatuaje (tatoo) and Vestidas! Faldas! Pantalones! And you are on your way to Chanting.
The problem with all these businesses as we recently found out is that they are in fact, illegal.
I got a massage (NOT THAI!) from a small Asian woman. When I was done, Ila got one as well. Smothered in baby oil and half-asleep, Ila was enjoying the rub down. That is, until it abruptly ended. I look over and see a policeman tap the Asian on the shoulder and then tell her in Spanish, "If you want to make money, go somewhere else."
She was taken over to another officer and stood there, sort of looking guilty, sort of smiling. Then we realized that there was no more humming or chanting. We looked around and not an Asian, Pakistani or Indian was in sight! Silence had fallen on Barceloneta, and it felt weird. After about 20 minutes and the Police officer escort, somehow the Asian emerged from the beach as I knew she would. (to collect the 5 euros Ila owed her)
So what is the moral of this story? Well, for the Asian I am sure it is something along the lines of Don't sweat the petty stuff, and don't pet the sweaty stuff. For the rest of the beach-goers, I'm sure in those short 20 minutes without access to overpriced drinks and cheap masaje-massages made us all realize that we have become accustomed to this lifestyle and as much as we hate it, we need it. At least, when we are at the beach.
But I also need to mention one little factoid not previously discussed that is a vital part of the beach chant. The medusa warnings!
It reads, since we have heard it about 25,000 times: The yellow flag indicates the detection of jellyfish. While swimming, please stay away from Jell-A-fish. If you are allergic, do not swim.
And then this announcement is spoken in Catalan, Castellano, German and French. Since the word for jellyfish in virtually all those languages is Medusa, we made a little joke about the Asian masseuses after the police exile.
"The Policeman indicates the detection of Masseuses. While sun-bathing, please stay away from Masseuses. If you are allergic, do not get a massage."
And then shortly after there was the re-emergence of the Masseuses. I guess those yellow flags will be up all summer...
Barcelona has many city beaches. Unfortunately, it also has many tourists and citizens who GO to these beaches. And even more unfortunate is that many people have cultivated businesses on these beaches selling anything you could think of under the sun. Literally.
So you are sitting on this hot beach, just next to the city, lathering on the sunscreen when you hear what I refer to as the "Barcelona Beach Chant." It goes a little something like this:
Agua, Fanta, Cerveza, Cola
Cola, Agua, Fanta, Coca Cola Light
Cold Bier, Agua my friends
Interspersed with drink suggestions is:
Masaje, Massage?
Masaje, chicas?
And, my personal favorite:
Emmmm---panadas!
Emmmmm---panadas!
EMM---PANADAS!
You mix these all together and throw in a few coco's, the occasional Tatuaje (tatoo) and Vestidas! Faldas! Pantalones! And you are on your way to Chanting.
The problem with all these businesses as we recently found out is that they are in fact, illegal.
I got a massage (NOT THAI!) from a small Asian woman. When I was done, Ila got one as well. Smothered in baby oil and half-asleep, Ila was enjoying the rub down. That is, until it abruptly ended. I look over and see a policeman tap the Asian on the shoulder and then tell her in Spanish, "If you want to make money, go somewhere else."
She was taken over to another officer and stood there, sort of looking guilty, sort of smiling. Then we realized that there was no more humming or chanting. We looked around and not an Asian, Pakistani or Indian was in sight! Silence had fallen on Barceloneta, and it felt weird. After about 20 minutes and the Police officer escort, somehow the Asian emerged from the beach as I knew she would. (to collect the 5 euros Ila owed her)
So what is the moral of this story? Well, for the Asian I am sure it is something along the lines of Don't sweat the petty stuff, and don't pet the sweaty stuff. For the rest of the beach-goers, I'm sure in those short 20 minutes without access to overpriced drinks and cheap masaje-massages made us all realize that we have become accustomed to this lifestyle and as much as we hate it, we need it. At least, when we are at the beach.
But I also need to mention one little factoid not previously discussed that is a vital part of the beach chant. The medusa warnings!
It reads, since we have heard it about 25,000 times: The yellow flag indicates the detection of jellyfish. While swimming, please stay away from Jell-A-fish. If you are allergic, do not swim.
And then this announcement is spoken in Catalan, Castellano, German and French. Since the word for jellyfish in virtually all those languages is Medusa, we made a little joke about the Asian masseuses after the police exile.
"The Policeman indicates the detection of Masseuses. While sun-bathing, please stay away from Masseuses. If you are allergic, do not get a massage."
And then shortly after there was the re-emergence of the Masseuses. I guess those yellow flags will be up all summer...
Flaming Shots
Tonight, we went to a bar called Espit Chupitos. And it was a bar that serves Flaming Shots.
Seriously, an entire wall of choices. To start the night we had Harry Potter. And then the rest are a blur of blue flames and sugar.
Ay de mi. We hung out with Tomas from Ila's classes (Danish) and he turned out to be a really nice guy. And there was an American group with one girl who was really annoying. Go figure.
Hasta manana!
Seriously, an entire wall of choices. To start the night we had Harry Potter. And then the rest are a blur of blue flames and sugar.
Ay de mi. We hung out with Tomas from Ila's classes (Danish) and he turned out to be a really nice guy. And there was an American group with one girl who was really annoying. Go figure.
Hasta manana!
Dancing Is My Cardio
The other night we went out with Martin to this club on the beach. Check that, it was a club, next to the beach but both were separate entities.
So we went there and after receiving some mis-information about free cover, free champagne AND a free drink, we managed to procure a spot on a white couch. The ambience was a mix of eclectic oriental (hence the parisol lights) and chic. Very nice. Martin knows our taste so well.
After our free champagne (yes, one glass of Cava was included) we were choosing what to drink next. I wanted to buy a bottle of Cava, because let's face it. It is Spain, and the drink is made here. It couldn't have been that expensive, Right? Wrong. 65 Euros. Eeek, so we opted for 10 euro Cosmos instead. I didn't have to fork over that much though because I had found 5 euros lying on the floor. Hmm... cosmic kharma?
So anyways, then the crowd began to file in. Many cute boys. And cute girls. Everyone at the place was very good-looking! The music began to blare... shockingly Phil Collins began to belt out Take a Look at Me Now! (I had just listened to it minutes before departing our apartment)
I really felt in the mood to dance. After all, they were mixing some great 80's songs with great dance hits. So we started to hit it. Hard. The dance floor was huge but there were so many people it was crazy! There was this one Finnish or Danish guy dancing sort of close to us but we couldn't tell if he was gay or not and wanted our attention. He was a riot to dance with. Then there was the Ostrich. A girl dancing in a style reminiscent of the awkward half-mammal half giant bird. She ended up finding her giant gorgeous beef-cake later. All was well in the land of Rhythm until I started pouring sweat.
Now as you may know, I had a similar experience in Paris. This thankfully was much more subdued than that party. But I was pretty disgusting, soaking through my linen dress. After I could no longer give Umbrella it's proper dues, we decided to head home. Our taxi-driver over charged us and took us the wrong way. And 3 short hours later we were back in school.
Tonight we are heading to a bar where they serve flaming drinks. Literally. Everything is on fire. And their speciality is chupitos (shots.) Martin is picking us up at 11, and we are heading there. Possibly a club later? But as he already informed us, it will be humid. Oh great, I am going to be sweating again. At least it counts as exercise.
So we went there and after receiving some mis-information about free cover, free champagne AND a free drink, we managed to procure a spot on a white couch. The ambience was a mix of eclectic oriental (hence the parisol lights) and chic. Very nice. Martin knows our taste so well.
After our free champagne (yes, one glass of Cava was included) we were choosing what to drink next. I wanted to buy a bottle of Cava, because let's face it. It is Spain, and the drink is made here. It couldn't have been that expensive, Right? Wrong. 65 Euros. Eeek, so we opted for 10 euro Cosmos instead. I didn't have to fork over that much though because I had found 5 euros lying on the floor. Hmm... cosmic kharma?
So anyways, then the crowd began to file in. Many cute boys. And cute girls. Everyone at the place was very good-looking! The music began to blare... shockingly Phil Collins began to belt out Take a Look at Me Now! (I had just listened to it minutes before departing our apartment)
I really felt in the mood to dance. After all, they were mixing some great 80's songs with great dance hits. So we started to hit it. Hard. The dance floor was huge but there were so many people it was crazy! There was this one Finnish or Danish guy dancing sort of close to us but we couldn't tell if he was gay or not and wanted our attention. He was a riot to dance with. Then there was the Ostrich. A girl dancing in a style reminiscent of the awkward half-mammal half giant bird. She ended up finding her giant gorgeous beef-cake later. All was well in the land of Rhythm until I started pouring sweat.
Now as you may know, I had a similar experience in Paris. This thankfully was much more subdued than that party. But I was pretty disgusting, soaking through my linen dress. After I could no longer give Umbrella it's proper dues, we decided to head home. Our taxi-driver over charged us and took us the wrong way. And 3 short hours later we were back in school.
Tonight we are heading to a bar where they serve flaming drinks. Literally. Everything is on fire. And their speciality is chupitos (shots.) Martin is picking us up at 11, and we are heading there. Possibly a club later? But as he already informed us, it will be humid. Oh great, I am going to be sweating again. At least it counts as exercise.
Alice In Wonderland on Crack
Today after class Ila and I actually did some tourism things around Barcelona.
We headed off to the Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell. As we emerged from the metro stop where just 2 years before I had seen a woman walking her pet duck, we saw the grotesquely shaped church. I took some pictures and we continued to walk around the massive structure.
Then we headed off to Parc Guell which was an adventure in itself. The metro stop is a good mile, mile and a half from the actual park. But, that hill is not a mere walk in the park, so to speak. It is a full on hike up winding traffic filled Barcelona streets. We got lost only a few times and had to ask where we were going. One man we asked directions to gave me directions in Catalan, undiscernable.
So we finally make our way up and the air is amazingly fresh up there. It is way above the city and the view is amazing. You can still see all the construction on the Sagrada Familia and the mountains. After we walked around and took more pictures at the scene of L'Auberge Espanol, we headed back down into town.
We got home and realized we didn't want to eat our food anymore. I mean honestly, no matter what Marco says, I cannot eat pasta every day. So we broke down and decided to go and try this good restaurant called Canela. Well, it was 8:15 and we thought we may be the only people eating in the place but it was worth the shame. Turns out, they don't even open until 8:30. Espana! Dios mio! So we then walked to this sushi place by our house, but it was only takeout.
Finally, we walked 3 short steps past our front door and walked into a Taiwanese restaurant. I don't know if I have mentioned this, but I am DYING for some SPICE! We walk into this tunnel like place and emerge at family dinner for Taiwan. Literally, the only non-Asians in the place.
But the food was mildly spicy (freaking blazing spicy compared to Spanish food) and we were so happy. Yay! Food baby was on the move.
We headed off to the Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell. As we emerged from the metro stop where just 2 years before I had seen a woman walking her pet duck, we saw the grotesquely shaped church. I took some pictures and we continued to walk around the massive structure.
Then we headed off to Parc Guell which was an adventure in itself. The metro stop is a good mile, mile and a half from the actual park. But, that hill is not a mere walk in the park, so to speak. It is a full on hike up winding traffic filled Barcelona streets. We got lost only a few times and had to ask where we were going. One man we asked directions to gave me directions in Catalan, undiscernable.
So we finally make our way up and the air is amazingly fresh up there. It is way above the city and the view is amazing. You can still see all the construction on the Sagrada Familia and the mountains. After we walked around and took more pictures at the scene of L'Auberge Espanol, we headed back down into town.
We got home and realized we didn't want to eat our food anymore. I mean honestly, no matter what Marco says, I cannot eat pasta every day. So we broke down and decided to go and try this good restaurant called Canela. Well, it was 8:15 and we thought we may be the only people eating in the place but it was worth the shame. Turns out, they don't even open until 8:30. Espana! Dios mio! So we then walked to this sushi place by our house, but it was only takeout.
Finally, we walked 3 short steps past our front door and walked into a Taiwanese restaurant. I don't know if I have mentioned this, but I am DYING for some SPICE! We walk into this tunnel like place and emerge at family dinner for Taiwan. Literally, the only non-Asians in the place.
But the food was mildly spicy (freaking blazing spicy compared to Spanish food) and we were so happy. Yay! Food baby was on the move.
On The Subject of Muggle Porn
Alright, so alas, I have finished the last Harry Potter novel.
I will not spoil it for anyone but it was quite sad saying goodbye to Harry. As the days led up to the release of the book, my thirst for Harry was almost incessant. I became obsessed with checking MuggleNet, my favorite website, for more theories and facts about Harry's Wizarding World.
Ila refers to this information as "Muggle Porn"
Muggles are the name given to non-wizarding people, for those of you who don't read the series.
Anyways, I thought it was worth mentioning in the blog.
And another small side note, Ila's new favorite thing at the beach is to compare boobs with other girls. There are many topless Spaniards and other Euros and she will spy on them and comment on their diversity. But today, she wanted me to spy on a girl and see if theirs looked the same. I drew the line. I am not a personal boob-spyer.
Also at the beach as I mentioned before, we saw the Beach Whale. Well, today I will give her another name... The Calabaza with Legs. Calabaza is Spanish for Pumpkin.
Literally, she stood up today, weighing in at roughly 450 pounds (210 kilos), Topless, and rubbing oil all over her flubbery tan body.
ICK!
I couldn't stop myself from staring. She was monstrous. I don't know what possesses someone like that, clearly morbidly obese, clearly not beach material, clearly older enough to be in AARP, to strip down to only a muu muu for butts. Literally, her suit was fabric, stretched to the max, and it was pulled down to reveal enormous boobs. Thankfully, she turned out to sea when she was oiling up her front side. I can only hope no one was taking a picture from the cruise boat sailing by.
Oy vey.
I will not spoil it for anyone but it was quite sad saying goodbye to Harry. As the days led up to the release of the book, my thirst for Harry was almost incessant. I became obsessed with checking MuggleNet, my favorite website, for more theories and facts about Harry's Wizarding World.
Ila refers to this information as "Muggle Porn"
Muggles are the name given to non-wizarding people, for those of you who don't read the series.
Anyways, I thought it was worth mentioning in the blog.
And another small side note, Ila's new favorite thing at the beach is to compare boobs with other girls. There are many topless Spaniards and other Euros and she will spy on them and comment on their diversity. But today, she wanted me to spy on a girl and see if theirs looked the same. I drew the line. I am not a personal boob-spyer.
Also at the beach as I mentioned before, we saw the Beach Whale. Well, today I will give her another name... The Calabaza with Legs. Calabaza is Spanish for Pumpkin.
Literally, she stood up today, weighing in at roughly 450 pounds (210 kilos), Topless, and rubbing oil all over her flubbery tan body.
ICK!
I couldn't stop myself from staring. She was monstrous. I don't know what possesses someone like that, clearly morbidly obese, clearly not beach material, clearly older enough to be in AARP, to strip down to only a muu muu for butts. Literally, her suit was fabric, stretched to the max, and it was pulled down to reveal enormous boobs. Thankfully, she turned out to sea when she was oiling up her front side. I can only hope no one was taking a picture from the cruise boat sailing by.
Oy vey.
It's Been Awhile
I have been in Barcelona for the last few days, and I regrettably have not blogged. We are staying at an apartment that is on a very busy street that is loud all the time. And for the first few days we were here Ila was sick.
So, on to the exciting news: Spanish School.
Both Ila and I are going to a school called SpeakEasy for Spanish classes. We go to school 4 hours a day, from 9-1 every day of the week. I love my teachers and the class is only 3 other people, so we got to speak a lot.
There are 3 students - 2 from the US and 1 from Norway. One of the guys from the US, we will refer to him as D, may be the most annoying person I have ever met.
Remember when you are little and you are at school and there is that kid that is just weird. You don't know exactly what it is, but they are different and odd and you don't want to sit next to them at the lunch table? D is like this. He laughs this really annoying laugh like, heh huh heh huh, kind of Beevis and Butthead reminiscent. And besides that, he asks approximately 4,208 questions each class. So the first day he wasn't in class and we moved quite quickly. After his presence was added, we move much slower. Think Galapagos Turtle pace.
So, in the middle of our class he interrupts to ask how to spell all these vocabulary words (like spanish is really hard to figure out how to spell.) I thought I was the only one who wanted to punch him upside his giggling head but then I commiserated with some of my classmates outside of class. Turns out, they can't stand D as much as me.
Ila's class is much bigger and she says there are much greater discrepancies in the level of Spanish some of the people have. Some are very good speakers and some are ridiculously slow. The slow ones make it hard for the rest of the class. And for some reason she keeps getting stuck being partners with one of the bad ones named Rupert. Apparently, he is awful.
A couple of days this week after class we went to the beach. It's is about a 30 minute bus ride to Barceloneta, and the bus literally drops us off steps from the beach. There are lots of people there and the water is nice. The first day we went was really rough though because the tide was coming in. There were rips and even surf! So, not so much swimming. But the second day was much nicer. We were washing our feet off at the showers and unfortunately a mob of Brazilian guys was there as well. They were like, "Where are you frommm? What is your naaaaame?" and without further ado, began splashing us with water. It was insane! We had to run away to get away from the craziness.
And then we had a horrible bus ride. Apparently all of Barcelona has run out of deodorant. And they were riding the bus with us. Ila was going to puke, I was somehow managing to keep my butt planted on this bar which I was pretending was my seat, and then this lady just struck up conversation with me. It turns out she is a German TV show host of travel shows and documentaries. Crazy! So we talked a bit and she got off at the market.
We made it home and Ila no longer felt like puking. Shocker!
One of the boys in Ila's class, Martin, wanted to go out. So we met up with him (because he lives just 1 block away) and went to go get dinner on the beach with some other friends from class. Spanish food, mmm. not. Ila and I cannot stand the food. It is nearly all gross and fried. So hopefully tonight we are going to try some international asian cuisine. I NEED SPICES!!!
So then after the dinner we all went out for drinks and it was nice. The next night (Since it was 2am and we were tired) we promised to go out with Martin and actually party and stay out late. We went to his apartment (on the 6th floor, with a breeze and a balcony) and had a little wine and cheese party with his roommate and him. It was really chill and relaxing. Then we headed out to this club called The Elephant.
We took the metro quite a few stops when Martin directed us to get off. We emerged from the station and looked around. We were in the boon docks. It was the University area, so we started walking. We didn't want to take a cab because it would have been only like 5 euros, and it didn't seem worth it.
As we were walking, we passed by...a prostitute. Ila and I were both shocked. We had never seen one up close before! And Ila thinks her "skirt" was actually a belt. Hooker butt cheeks! After we walked for what seemed like forever we made it to the club.
It was amazing!
It was this huge semi-outdoor Thai style club. It was a garden and lush and there were couches, as well as a dance floor. We managed to procure a couch and sat there talking for hours. Then Martin really wanted to dance. So we headed to the dance floor and danced for a while.
Ila's feet were hurting and we were both getting tired (4am) so we all decided to take a cab home. It ended up being really cheap and then we said goodnight to our Martin.
I haven't released the best part of my last 2 days... I bought the 7th and final Harry Potter book. And I have already finished it. Ila is grateful I am finally done, seeing as all I have done in the last 2 days is read. It was great, but I am so sad to think Harry is done with his adventures. Ah well, enjoy it!
So, on to the exciting news: Spanish School.
Both Ila and I are going to a school called SpeakEasy for Spanish classes. We go to school 4 hours a day, from 9-1 every day of the week. I love my teachers and the class is only 3 other people, so we got to speak a lot.
There are 3 students - 2 from the US and 1 from Norway. One of the guys from the US, we will refer to him as D, may be the most annoying person I have ever met.
Remember when you are little and you are at school and there is that kid that is just weird. You don't know exactly what it is, but they are different and odd and you don't want to sit next to them at the lunch table? D is like this. He laughs this really annoying laugh like, heh huh heh huh, kind of Beevis and Butthead reminiscent. And besides that, he asks approximately 4,208 questions each class. So the first day he wasn't in class and we moved quite quickly. After his presence was added, we move much slower. Think Galapagos Turtle pace.
So, in the middle of our class he interrupts to ask how to spell all these vocabulary words (like spanish is really hard to figure out how to spell.) I thought I was the only one who wanted to punch him upside his giggling head but then I commiserated with some of my classmates outside of class. Turns out, they can't stand D as much as me.
Ila's class is much bigger and she says there are much greater discrepancies in the level of Spanish some of the people have. Some are very good speakers and some are ridiculously slow. The slow ones make it hard for the rest of the class. And for some reason she keeps getting stuck being partners with one of the bad ones named Rupert. Apparently, he is awful.
A couple of days this week after class we went to the beach. It's is about a 30 minute bus ride to Barceloneta, and the bus literally drops us off steps from the beach. There are lots of people there and the water is nice. The first day we went was really rough though because the tide was coming in. There were rips and even surf! So, not so much swimming. But the second day was much nicer. We were washing our feet off at the showers and unfortunately a mob of Brazilian guys was there as well. They were like, "Where are you frommm? What is your naaaaame?" and without further ado, began splashing us with water. It was insane! We had to run away to get away from the craziness.
And then we had a horrible bus ride. Apparently all of Barcelona has run out of deodorant. And they were riding the bus with us. Ila was going to puke, I was somehow managing to keep my butt planted on this bar which I was pretending was my seat, and then this lady just struck up conversation with me. It turns out she is a German TV show host of travel shows and documentaries. Crazy! So we talked a bit and she got off at the market.
We made it home and Ila no longer felt like puking. Shocker!
One of the boys in Ila's class, Martin, wanted to go out. So we met up with him (because he lives just 1 block away) and went to go get dinner on the beach with some other friends from class. Spanish food, mmm. not. Ila and I cannot stand the food. It is nearly all gross and fried. So hopefully tonight we are going to try some international asian cuisine. I NEED SPICES!!!
So then after the dinner we all went out for drinks and it was nice. The next night (Since it was 2am and we were tired) we promised to go out with Martin and actually party and stay out late. We went to his apartment (on the 6th floor, with a breeze and a balcony) and had a little wine and cheese party with his roommate and him. It was really chill and relaxing. Then we headed out to this club called The Elephant.
We took the metro quite a few stops when Martin directed us to get off. We emerged from the station and looked around. We were in the boon docks. It was the University area, so we started walking. We didn't want to take a cab because it would have been only like 5 euros, and it didn't seem worth it.
As we were walking, we passed by...a prostitute. Ila and I were both shocked. We had never seen one up close before! And Ila thinks her "skirt" was actually a belt. Hooker butt cheeks! After we walked for what seemed like forever we made it to the club.
It was amazing!
It was this huge semi-outdoor Thai style club. It was a garden and lush and there were couches, as well as a dance floor. We managed to procure a couch and sat there talking for hours. Then Martin really wanted to dance. So we headed to the dance floor and danced for a while.
Ila's feet were hurting and we were both getting tired (4am) so we all decided to take a cab home. It ended up being really cheap and then we said goodnight to our Martin.
I haven't released the best part of my last 2 days... I bought the 7th and final Harry Potter book. And I have already finished it. Ila is grateful I am finally done, seeing as all I have done in the last 2 days is read. It was great, but I am so sad to think Harry is done with his adventures. Ah well, enjoy it!
Wanky Old Fart
Oh dear. Ila and I flew to Barcelona today to start her intensive spanish courses, which I may now attend as well. My spanish is a little rusty.
So we fly in and the plane was pretty cramped. That's what you expect from a cut rate airline. We made it to Barc only a little behind schedule and worked our way to the Train station. After we waited a long time on the train we finally pushed off. We weren't exactly sure which station to get off at, but we thought we would head into town and if we couldn't find our apartment we could take a cab there.
So we are standing on the train with tons of travelers when this man approaches us. He was probably in his 50's with grey hair, a belly and shorts. He was also wearing a Liverpool jersey. So he looks me square in the eye and says, "I know and English native speaker when I see one." I figured I had nothing to lose by talking to the guy, after all, he could have been a very nice Brit. But then whatever was coming out of his mouth certainly wasn't English.
"Are yus from Wales dere, yore pale. Ifink yu from the see-coast?" and other such ramblings. He continued sort of talking to us, and it was fine for a while when we could understand him. But most of the time he was talking and we had no idea was in the world he was saying.
"Ah jus' got back from Ree-oh Jan-ee-row (Rio de Janeiro) an it was nice. (Undiscernable mutterings) Yu coul' just flah-ee tah Salvador. An yu's coul' getta get-up if yu like. Der was Lewis Vitton, Christian Dwyor, Armanio or whatever. Nice."
And then he continued hitting on us, saying how he got kicked out of his hotel because the hotel owner thought he wanted to sleep with the owners daughter who worked there. (He claims he wasn't but by the end of the conversation Ila and I were convinced he had been trying to.)
So then after he thought Marco was gay (I called him Marcolito and he thought I said Marguerita) and I was going to pick up all the Spanish guys, we managed to pawn him off onto another poor unsuspecting soul.
The rest of the train ride was spent trying to avoid eye contact with him and sorting out what kind of retarded he was. It was interesting, really.
And the girl who we pawned him off on knew Barc so she told us what stop to get off at. She walked us out of the station, and he wanted directions as well. So he was following us for a bit and then he asked how to get out and she said, whichever way is fine. At that point, she went with us to the right and we parted ways with the Wanky Old Fart as I will call him. I immediately asked her if she had ever met anyone as weird as that. She replied only once. Some Japanese business man she sat next to on a trans-atlantic flight who hated his boss. Other than that, he was the weirdest.
So we managed to get to the apartment easily enough, just a few blocks walk. Ila of course didn't know the apartment number (she was hoping names would be on the door buzzer) and they weren't. So, I had to find a payphone, figure out how to work it and then call the guy as she was standing outside.
So the apartment is really nice! We have our own wing virtually, and the place is light and clean. The guy who lives here is really cool and accomodating, from Manchester, England. And if you know anything about Chicago we are staying in the equivalent of Boys Town. Yeah. Ila and I got dinner around the corner and realized people probably thought we were a couple. Oh well, it's at least a safe neighborhood!
She starts her classes tomorrow, and I think I will try to get into the same thing. I want to improve my Spanish and I really have nothing better to do.
Oh, and our apartment is a 15 minute straight shot to Barceloneta beach. I hope no one in the future says I am pale from Wales!
So we fly in and the plane was pretty cramped. That's what you expect from a cut rate airline. We made it to Barc only a little behind schedule and worked our way to the Train station. After we waited a long time on the train we finally pushed off. We weren't exactly sure which station to get off at, but we thought we would head into town and if we couldn't find our apartment we could take a cab there.
So we are standing on the train with tons of travelers when this man approaches us. He was probably in his 50's with grey hair, a belly and shorts. He was also wearing a Liverpool jersey. So he looks me square in the eye and says, "I know and English native speaker when I see one." I figured I had nothing to lose by talking to the guy, after all, he could have been a very nice Brit. But then whatever was coming out of his mouth certainly wasn't English.
"Are yus from Wales dere, yore pale. Ifink yu from the see-coast?" and other such ramblings. He continued sort of talking to us, and it was fine for a while when we could understand him. But most of the time he was talking and we had no idea was in the world he was saying.
"Ah jus' got back from Ree-oh Jan-ee-row (Rio de Janeiro) an it was nice. (Undiscernable mutterings) Yu coul' just flah-ee tah Salvador. An yu's coul' getta get-up if yu like. Der was Lewis Vitton, Christian Dwyor, Armanio or whatever. Nice."
And then he continued hitting on us, saying how he got kicked out of his hotel because the hotel owner thought he wanted to sleep with the owners daughter who worked there. (He claims he wasn't but by the end of the conversation Ila and I were convinced he had been trying to.)
So then after he thought Marco was gay (I called him Marcolito and he thought I said Marguerita) and I was going to pick up all the Spanish guys, we managed to pawn him off onto another poor unsuspecting soul.
The rest of the train ride was spent trying to avoid eye contact with him and sorting out what kind of retarded he was. It was interesting, really.
And the girl who we pawned him off on knew Barc so she told us what stop to get off at. She walked us out of the station, and he wanted directions as well. So he was following us for a bit and then he asked how to get out and she said, whichever way is fine. At that point, she went with us to the right and we parted ways with the Wanky Old Fart as I will call him. I immediately asked her if she had ever met anyone as weird as that. She replied only once. Some Japanese business man she sat next to on a trans-atlantic flight who hated his boss. Other than that, he was the weirdest.
So we managed to get to the apartment easily enough, just a few blocks walk. Ila of course didn't know the apartment number (she was hoping names would be on the door buzzer) and they weren't. So, I had to find a payphone, figure out how to work it and then call the guy as she was standing outside.
So the apartment is really nice! We have our own wing virtually, and the place is light and clean. The guy who lives here is really cool and accomodating, from Manchester, England. And if you know anything about Chicago we are staying in the equivalent of Boys Town. Yeah. Ila and I got dinner around the corner and realized people probably thought we were a couple. Oh well, it's at least a safe neighborhood!
She starts her classes tomorrow, and I think I will try to get into the same thing. I want to improve my Spanish and I really have nothing better to do.
Oh, and our apartment is a 15 minute straight shot to Barceloneta beach. I hope no one in the future says I am pale from Wales!
...But I Am The Frenchiest!
Ahh well, here we are on Bastille Day in Paris doing what exactly? Ah yes...recovering.
Last night Pierre Parent had a party to celebrate 2 friends birthdays and Bastille Day. We headed over to the 14th to join him with the thought of going dancing after the party. I was wearing the Bulgarian skirt (which Ila told me made me look like a hooker with heels) and was ready to dance.
You see, Pierre and I were bored sitting in traffic last weekend coming home from Bourgogne so we had a dance contest in the back of the Audi. This was the chance to really have a dance competition and settle once and for all who can groove better.
We walk in the party and there are already several people there, so we do bisous about 25 times. We were hanging out at the party and then Claire came and brought our mixers. So then the dancing really started and there were fireworks! Pierre Parent and I squared off a few times on the dance floor but it was really no contest. I won every time. (Other people might disagree with me on this point, but it is my blog, so I get to state my opinion.)
After much galavanting around the apartment we headed off to a club at Montparnasse. We walk in and are surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of 17 year olds. Seriously! The whole club was filled with Euro babies! Somehow at Pierre's place one of his friends decided he loved Ila and I and was following us around. He was dancing with me and with her. He had a green shirt on, the color of Kermit The Frog, which was appropriate because he was French. He was a riot and when I told him he was "So French" his response was, But I am the Frenchiest!
Bien sur.
So we continued dancing with the pre-teens until the wee hours of the morning. I was tired by that point so Ila and I cabbed it home. It was also Annabelle's birthday so she had a party with some friends over. She made delicious food but when we got home the party had already ended. It was a great night.
So today we are finishing up packing for Barcelona, doing laundry, putting up pictures, etc. We head there tomorrow at 2 and move to our apartment. I am not, I repeat not looking forward to carrying the 5th grader, but I have no choice. Hopefully we make it to Barc in one piece, to start the Spanish jaunt!
Last night Pierre Parent had a party to celebrate 2 friends birthdays and Bastille Day. We headed over to the 14th to join him with the thought of going dancing after the party. I was wearing the Bulgarian skirt (which Ila told me made me look like a hooker with heels) and was ready to dance.
You see, Pierre and I were bored sitting in traffic last weekend coming home from Bourgogne so we had a dance contest in the back of the Audi. This was the chance to really have a dance competition and settle once and for all who can groove better.
We walk in the party and there are already several people there, so we do bisous about 25 times. We were hanging out at the party and then Claire came and brought our mixers. So then the dancing really started and there were fireworks! Pierre Parent and I squared off a few times on the dance floor but it was really no contest. I won every time. (Other people might disagree with me on this point, but it is my blog, so I get to state my opinion.)
After much galavanting around the apartment we headed off to a club at Montparnasse. We walk in and are surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of 17 year olds. Seriously! The whole club was filled with Euro babies! Somehow at Pierre's place one of his friends decided he loved Ila and I and was following us around. He was dancing with me and with her. He had a green shirt on, the color of Kermit The Frog, which was appropriate because he was French. He was a riot and when I told him he was "So French" his response was, But I am the Frenchiest!
Bien sur.
So we continued dancing with the pre-teens until the wee hours of the morning. I was tired by that point so Ila and I cabbed it home. It was also Annabelle's birthday so she had a party with some friends over. She made delicious food but when we got home the party had already ended. It was a great night.
So today we are finishing up packing for Barcelona, doing laundry, putting up pictures, etc. We head there tomorrow at 2 and move to our apartment. I am not, I repeat not looking forward to carrying the 5th grader, but I have no choice. Hopefully we make it to Barc in one piece, to start the Spanish jaunt!
I've Never Taken a Shower With My Clothes On Before
Last night...couldn't even get an answer.
Tried to call, but Carla let me down...
We went out on the Champs at a club called Madam, also known as Hotter than Hades. Ila and I agreed to meet Claire at the club and so we got all dolled up and took the train to the area. Oh wait, I forgot to mention this was a 7-1 party, meaning show up at 7 and party till 1. What does this mean? Well, we were all glammed up in dresses and heels while it was still light out, and while tons of tourists were milling about.
Awkward.
And Ila sweats. We couldn't walk too fast because she didn't want to break out sweating. Little did she know, we were in for a shower or two.
So, Claire told us in her email that this place was very fancy, hence the dresses. We show up and discover the place and nobody, I repeat nobody is wearing dresses. The guys are all in button downs, ties and dress pants from work and the girls are all wearing black pants and going out shirts. Eek. So, we stuck out a bit, but we agreed it's better to be overdressed than under.
After waiting in line, in the rain, we made it into the club. Let me set the scene.
Small club, probably 1,000 square feet. Large crowd, probably 800 people. That means that you have roughly 1.1 square foot of space to yourself. And then, the inferno started dancing.
We were hot. To say the least.
Ila had a "dew rag" to mop up the sweat but it was useless. I went to the bar (when I say I went to the bar it was more of a shuffle/scoot past the throbbing crowd) and was waiting to get a drink when in comes the boy. Tonight his name was Yann. He was tall, dark and handsome and he started speaking to me. In french. I was able to give him a confused look and muttered, No parlais francais! which he then understood. He spoke pretty good english, though he was a bit intimidated by the language barrier.
So what did he ask you? I hear you all whispering excitedly. Well, he said, you are very tall. How original. I've never heard that one before. But anyways, after waiting ridiculous amounts of time for drinks we went back to the corner of hell. It was a seat for the 4 of us and sitting on the other side of the bench was a boy I will refer to as Josh Groban-stein. He was in love with Ila. From afar.
So we are sitting there with the inferno dancing and smoking, in this small room with no ventilation and the sweat just starts coming. I'm talking dripping, pouring, rolling down your back to your butt sweat. Ila brought a hair tie. I did not. Oh dear, the Mufasa Mane was now getting soaked from my sweat drenched shoulders. Ila was in hell. I really thought I was going to be a puddle on the floor. Oh wait, when I sat down I did have a puddle on the floor by me feet. Sick.
But then Yann motioned for us to come over and sit with he and his friends. So we had a little more room. It was interesting talking to them, Daniel was one of his friends who latched on to Ila right away. And it turns out the tall, gangly guy with them was celebrating his moving out of Paris to none other than Sydney, Australia.
After much more semi-dancing (I was so hot and didn't have much space to move) we headed to the door area. It was a bit cooler there, so we were hanging out when Daniel came over and talked to us again. Apparently, 2 boys thought I was cute because Louis (the guy moving to Sydney) wanted to talk to me but was too shy? Anyways, I ended up giving Daniel my email address to give to Louis. And if that wasn't 5th grade enough, Louis was standing right there by that point and STILL didn't talk to me. So, as we were leaving I was like, Louis! You can email me in Sydney! Bye.
Who knows. It just felt really good to leave the fiery inferno of hell. And when we emerged from the club, it was still light out! And there were parents around! I guess that's what you get when you go to a party at 7pm.
Tried to call, but Carla let me down...
We went out on the Champs at a club called Madam, also known as Hotter than Hades. Ila and I agreed to meet Claire at the club and so we got all dolled up and took the train to the area. Oh wait, I forgot to mention this was a 7-1 party, meaning show up at 7 and party till 1. What does this mean? Well, we were all glammed up in dresses and heels while it was still light out, and while tons of tourists were milling about.
Awkward.
And Ila sweats. We couldn't walk too fast because she didn't want to break out sweating. Little did she know, we were in for a shower or two.
So, Claire told us in her email that this place was very fancy, hence the dresses. We show up and discover the place and nobody, I repeat nobody is wearing dresses. The guys are all in button downs, ties and dress pants from work and the girls are all wearing black pants and going out shirts. Eek. So, we stuck out a bit, but we agreed it's better to be overdressed than under.
After waiting in line, in the rain, we made it into the club. Let me set the scene.
Small club, probably 1,000 square feet. Large crowd, probably 800 people. That means that you have roughly 1.1 square foot of space to yourself. And then, the inferno started dancing.
We were hot. To say the least.
Ila had a "dew rag" to mop up the sweat but it was useless. I went to the bar (when I say I went to the bar it was more of a shuffle/scoot past the throbbing crowd) and was waiting to get a drink when in comes the boy. Tonight his name was Yann. He was tall, dark and handsome and he started speaking to me. In french. I was able to give him a confused look and muttered, No parlais francais! which he then understood. He spoke pretty good english, though he was a bit intimidated by the language barrier.
So what did he ask you? I hear you all whispering excitedly. Well, he said, you are very tall. How original. I've never heard that one before. But anyways, after waiting ridiculous amounts of time for drinks we went back to the corner of hell. It was a seat for the 4 of us and sitting on the other side of the bench was a boy I will refer to as Josh Groban-stein. He was in love with Ila. From afar.
So we are sitting there with the inferno dancing and smoking, in this small room with no ventilation and the sweat just starts coming. I'm talking dripping, pouring, rolling down your back to your butt sweat. Ila brought a hair tie. I did not. Oh dear, the Mufasa Mane was now getting soaked from my sweat drenched shoulders. Ila was in hell. I really thought I was going to be a puddle on the floor. Oh wait, when I sat down I did have a puddle on the floor by me feet. Sick.
But then Yann motioned for us to come over and sit with he and his friends. So we had a little more room. It was interesting talking to them, Daniel was one of his friends who latched on to Ila right away. And it turns out the tall, gangly guy with them was celebrating his moving out of Paris to none other than Sydney, Australia.
After much more semi-dancing (I was so hot and didn't have much space to move) we headed to the door area. It was a bit cooler there, so we were hanging out when Daniel came over and talked to us again. Apparently, 2 boys thought I was cute because Louis (the guy moving to Sydney) wanted to talk to me but was too shy? Anyways, I ended up giving Daniel my email address to give to Louis. And if that wasn't 5th grade enough, Louis was standing right there by that point and STILL didn't talk to me. So, as we were leaving I was like, Louis! You can email me in Sydney! Bye.
Who knows. It just felt really good to leave the fiery inferno of hell. And when we emerged from the club, it was still light out! And there were parents around! I guess that's what you get when you go to a party at 7pm.
Montmartre at Midnight
It has been a few days since my last entry.
A few amazing days.
Yesterday, to start my day I went running in the Luxembourg Gardins, just down the street from the Pantheon. It was just starting to rain, and I was just running among the last part of the morning commuters. The run felt really good, seeing as how I was in pretty good shape before traveling and then I didn't run for a week and a half. Yuck. But funny story, I was wearing dark blue shorts and a dark blue t-shirt. As I just turned into the gardens there were more runners than the first day, wearing a similar outfit. I continued on my run, and did a lap (equivalent of just under a mile) when I passed a running group. They were all wearing dark blue and thought I was one of them! They tried to flag me down as I ran past, thinking I was running astray. Little did they know I was just an American on a run. It was pretty funny once they realized I was definitely not part of their group.
I got back to the apartment and Ila and I got ready to go to Versailles. We planned to meet Claire, one of the frenchies from Chicago, at the Palace and then go back to her house. When we got to V, it was raining but the tour buses were all packed in. It was a 3 hour wait to buy tickets and then get into the palace. We opted instead to walk around the gardens, which were open but I'm sure not a lot of people knew about. It was just as I remembered it and we had a great stroll through the wide boulevards. We took some pictures to inspire Ellwyn's garden at home.
After that, we were all so cold that we grabbed sandwiches from a local Boulangerie and headed over to Claire's house. It was over 100 years old, so it counts as culture if we see it. We ate and then took a little tour of the house. We were sitting on Claire's bed, reading previous entries to the blog when Ila and I decided to take a little nap. Apparently I was really tired because I passed out for a few hours. I woke up and we had a little tea and then headed into Paris.
Claire drove us into town before she had a meeting and we drove all over Paris. We went by the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Opera house, the tunnel where Diana was killed, everywhere until the Champs E'Lysee. She dropped us off a few blocks before and went to her meeting, understanding that we would meet up later for dinner. We walked around but the boulevard is so crowded with tourists that it was a bit chaotic. We somehow met up with Claire easily for the second time that day in front of "The Drug Store." What Ila and I thought was going to be a pharmacy turned out to be a restaurant/bookstore/grocery store. Incredible!
We walked around the block and got dinner at a cute restaurant on the corner. Francois (another former Chicago frenchie) met up with us and we had a really nice meal. Then, since the lighting was still good, I said I wanted to go up into the Arc de Triomphe. People were up on the roof taking pictures and I could imagine what beautiful views they had.
By this time it was close to 11 at night and there was still some light out! We walked over but no more people could go up into the Arc. We took some pictures at the bottom and walked back to the car. Claire offered to drive us around some more and then home. So we got to see Paris by night. It was amazing.
We drove through the Louvre and then down the Seine. We made it up to Montmartre to see the gorgeous view of the city. There were plenty of drunk people on the steps of the Sacre Coeur to entertain us for a few minutes. We headed back down and she dropped us off at home around 1am. It was a really long, really beautiful day capped off by amazing sight-seeing.
Je taime, Paris!
A few amazing days.
Yesterday, to start my day I went running in the Luxembourg Gardins, just down the street from the Pantheon. It was just starting to rain, and I was just running among the last part of the morning commuters. The run felt really good, seeing as how I was in pretty good shape before traveling and then I didn't run for a week and a half. Yuck. But funny story, I was wearing dark blue shorts and a dark blue t-shirt. As I just turned into the gardens there were more runners than the first day, wearing a similar outfit. I continued on my run, and did a lap (equivalent of just under a mile) when I passed a running group. They were all wearing dark blue and thought I was one of them! They tried to flag me down as I ran past, thinking I was running astray. Little did they know I was just an American on a run. It was pretty funny once they realized I was definitely not part of their group.
I got back to the apartment and Ila and I got ready to go to Versailles. We planned to meet Claire, one of the frenchies from Chicago, at the Palace and then go back to her house. When we got to V, it was raining but the tour buses were all packed in. It was a 3 hour wait to buy tickets and then get into the palace. We opted instead to walk around the gardens, which were open but I'm sure not a lot of people knew about. It was just as I remembered it and we had a great stroll through the wide boulevards. We took some pictures to inspire Ellwyn's garden at home.
After that, we were all so cold that we grabbed sandwiches from a local Boulangerie and headed over to Claire's house. It was over 100 years old, so it counts as culture if we see it. We ate and then took a little tour of the house. We were sitting on Claire's bed, reading previous entries to the blog when Ila and I decided to take a little nap. Apparently I was really tired because I passed out for a few hours. I woke up and we had a little tea and then headed into Paris.
Claire drove us into town before she had a meeting and we drove all over Paris. We went by the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Opera house, the tunnel where Diana was killed, everywhere until the Champs E'Lysee. She dropped us off a few blocks before and went to her meeting, understanding that we would meet up later for dinner. We walked around but the boulevard is so crowded with tourists that it was a bit chaotic. We somehow met up with Claire easily for the second time that day in front of "The Drug Store." What Ila and I thought was going to be a pharmacy turned out to be a restaurant/bookstore/grocery store. Incredible!
We walked around the block and got dinner at a cute restaurant on the corner. Francois (another former Chicago frenchie) met up with us and we had a really nice meal. Then, since the lighting was still good, I said I wanted to go up into the Arc de Triomphe. People were up on the roof taking pictures and I could imagine what beautiful views they had.
By this time it was close to 11 at night and there was still some light out! We walked over but no more people could go up into the Arc. We took some pictures at the bottom and walked back to the car. Claire offered to drive us around some more and then home. So we got to see Paris by night. It was amazing.
We drove through the Louvre and then down the Seine. We made it up to Montmartre to see the gorgeous view of the city. There were plenty of drunk people on the steps of the Sacre Coeur to entertain us for a few minutes. We headed back down and she dropped us off at home around 1am. It was a really long, really beautiful day capped off by amazing sight-seeing.
Je taime, Paris!
Ellwyn's Disneyland
Day 2 of the Bike Brigade. We didn't ride bikes. We were too sore.
So, we get up again around 6:02am and eat breakfast. Much more under control this time around. We packed up all our things and put them in the car. At breakfast there was another family, yes, just 1, and they were speaking some language that none of us could pick out.
That's rare.
Pierre speaks French, obviously, English and Spanish. He also may know about some other languages as well.
Ila speaks French, English, Spanish and some Italian.
I speak Spanish, English, a little French, a very little Italian, even less Japanese with a sprinkling of German and Bulgarian.
Ellwyn speaks German, English and some Swedish.
Gayle speaks a combination of German, French, Spanish and English.
It was none of these.
What could it be? Were they conversing in secret code? They had children with them so surely they couldn't be under cover spies. Hmm. Then, they packed up their car and left. Ellwyn walked outside to see which country their car was from and he got shot at! No, just kidding. They were from Belgium, we think. Still not sure on that one.
So we head into town and park. We walk to the Hotel Dieu, which was an old hospice for sick and dying in the area. It was massive and beautiful. My favorite part was the light and sound show in the kitchen. If you want to more, just ask me.
In one of the rooms there was a tapestry that had a picture of a horse with one foot cut off. Pierre translated the placard that said it was a message for humility. Hmm...
We walked around Beaune and I bought a sweet poster that has a spectrum of each different wines color. We bought some more small souvernirs and left to go pottering throughout the country... also known as Ellwyn's Disneyland.
Also on this trip, I have been house shopping for my first Chateau, duly named Chateau Carla. We saw some possibilities but I think they were all a little small. I need room for my horses and plenty of wall space to hang all my pictures. We stumbled upon le Domain Parent, apparently distant cousins of Pierre's. Their house was closed for the day but he still managed to buy some very nice wine at the store down the street. I was napping in the car.
We headed out to another village and there was a massive Chateau. I really had to go to pee so we stopped and took a look around. There a huge tourbus had thrown up and American tourists were everywhere. I understand know why Europeans can't stand American tourists. Literally, the whole scale of sound changed. They were loud. And huge. And rude.
Ew.
But, as I walked around the estate I decided I liked it. This was the future Chateau Carla. It had a spacious stable and the house itself was massive. But it still needed some touches to make it more livable, like flowers and a family to love it. So, after I publish these blogs into a book and make my first million, I will buy it. God, I love dreaming!
We got out of dodge and made it almost all the way to Paris without traffic. Then, about 60km away from the city we got stuck. Majorly. It was a mess all the way in and took about 2 hours to get through. And the best part was that with Pierre, Ila and I all in the back seat we had plenty of room! Not. I was so twerked around, at one point I was laying across them with my legs draped somewhere else to stretch. It was miserable. If one of us were comfortable, the other two weren't.
We finally got to Paris and to Pierre's door. We pitched him out on the street and said our good byes. Then, we zipped through the heart of Paris back to Romain's apartment. We said tearful goodbyes to our parents. I will see my Mom again in Egypt, but I won't see my Dad again until Christmas in Hawaii! Sadly, they left us to head to the airport.
Ila and I ate dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner. I had a really good pizza, she ordered fish pasta for some reason. It was bad. We got everything sorted out last night back into place and then we slept for a long time. Tomorrow I want to go for a run. That should provide some interesting material.
So, we get up again around 6:02am and eat breakfast. Much more under control this time around. We packed up all our things and put them in the car. At breakfast there was another family, yes, just 1, and they were speaking some language that none of us could pick out.
That's rare.
Pierre speaks French, obviously, English and Spanish. He also may know about some other languages as well.
Ila speaks French, English, Spanish and some Italian.
I speak Spanish, English, a little French, a very little Italian, even less Japanese with a sprinkling of German and Bulgarian.
Ellwyn speaks German, English and some Swedish.
Gayle speaks a combination of German, French, Spanish and English.
It was none of these.
What could it be? Were they conversing in secret code? They had children with them so surely they couldn't be under cover spies. Hmm. Then, they packed up their car and left. Ellwyn walked outside to see which country their car was from and he got shot at! No, just kidding. They were from Belgium, we think. Still not sure on that one.
So we head into town and park. We walk to the Hotel Dieu, which was an old hospice for sick and dying in the area. It was massive and beautiful. My favorite part was the light and sound show in the kitchen. If you want to more, just ask me.
In one of the rooms there was a tapestry that had a picture of a horse with one foot cut off. Pierre translated the placard that said it was a message for humility. Hmm...
We walked around Beaune and I bought a sweet poster that has a spectrum of each different wines color. We bought some more small souvernirs and left to go pottering throughout the country... also known as Ellwyn's Disneyland.
Also on this trip, I have been house shopping for my first Chateau, duly named Chateau Carla. We saw some possibilities but I think they were all a little small. I need room for my horses and plenty of wall space to hang all my pictures. We stumbled upon le Domain Parent, apparently distant cousins of Pierre's. Their house was closed for the day but he still managed to buy some very nice wine at the store down the street. I was napping in the car.
We headed out to another village and there was a massive Chateau. I really had to go to pee so we stopped and took a look around. There a huge tourbus had thrown up and American tourists were everywhere. I understand know why Europeans can't stand American tourists. Literally, the whole scale of sound changed. They were loud. And huge. And rude.
Ew.
But, as I walked around the estate I decided I liked it. This was the future Chateau Carla. It had a spacious stable and the house itself was massive. But it still needed some touches to make it more livable, like flowers and a family to love it. So, after I publish these blogs into a book and make my first million, I will buy it. God, I love dreaming!
We got out of dodge and made it almost all the way to Paris without traffic. Then, about 60km away from the city we got stuck. Majorly. It was a mess all the way in and took about 2 hours to get through. And the best part was that with Pierre, Ila and I all in the back seat we had plenty of room! Not. I was so twerked around, at one point I was laying across them with my legs draped somewhere else to stretch. It was miserable. If one of us were comfortable, the other two weren't.
We finally got to Paris and to Pierre's door. We pitched him out on the street and said our good byes. Then, we zipped through the heart of Paris back to Romain's apartment. We said tearful goodbyes to our parents. I will see my Mom again in Egypt, but I won't see my Dad again until Christmas in Hawaii! Sadly, they left us to head to the airport.
Ila and I ate dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner. I had a really good pizza, she ordered fish pasta for some reason. It was bad. We got everything sorted out last night back into place and then we slept for a long time. Tomorrow I want to go for a run. That should provide some interesting material.
Wine Before Bubbles
Burgogne is a region known for beautiful wine country, rolling hills to bike through, and being massively drunk at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. And why is that? Because of the wine tasting.
Ellwyn wanted to go down to the biking area and taste wines and virtually combine his two favorite things. So, with Pierre Parent in tow, we rented an Audi to seat the 5 of us and headed down to Burgogne, about a 3 hour drive southeast of Paris. On the way down there, we had a lovely time laughing and joking around about the drive. Some of the countryside was covered in sunflowers, but the flowers didn't all seem to face the same direction. Pierre suggested that sometimes they turn away from the sun if they don't want to get burned.
Pierre as the voice of the Lead Sunflower: "Come on ladies, let's turn around!"
On our drive we had lovely snacks to split. The toll booth even gave us a little care package! Inside it was some magazines, a water and this nasty tasting mint drink in a bottle. Imagine alka-seltzer blended with mouthwash, and drink. Gross!
So we finally headed into Beaune around 10:30 that night. After stopping at a pub to ask for directions, we followed our way out into the country to the Golf Estate. Let me clarify: our hotel was not connected in any way to a golf course, but was simply geographically close to one. Thus, it borrowed the name and claimed it was a Golf Hotel. Wrong. It was really nice except there were 2 showers and only 1 toilet for the 5 of us, and the toilet was placed in the middle of the entire apartment. So much for privacy.
The following morning our parents wake us up at 5:39am, or what feels like it and we head downstairs for breakfast. I think everyone in the hotel wanted to eat at the same time and it seemed like it when there were not nearly enough dishes to go around.
After brekkie, we headed into town to rent our velos, or bicycles. I made t-shirts for our tour, but the luggage was STILL lost, and so only Ila and I had ours. Burgogne Bike Brigade 07 was underway. After we rented the bikes (which only took about an hour of waiting around) Ellwyn took two pedals and realized he had a flat/low tire. So we had to wait some more. We cleared that up and headed to the Casino... which is the grocery store.
We picked up food to make a picnic at a castle with a prince! So finally we head off into the hills. A few kilometers later, we are at our first Domain. It had a large chateau on it and the wine cellars. Our tour guide, Emilie, was fantastic! She was the typical beautiful french girl, and she was in love with wine. We tasted and tasted. And tasted and tasted. In total, I think I remember tasting 12 wines there...before lunch. We were all tipsy. We managed to pull out our food and assemble it into a lovely picnic, with another bottle of wine. Holy cow. After we ate, Ila and I took a nap.
We woke up shortly after and decided to bike to the next Chateau. We made it, and only got lost a couple of times. I blame the vin. The second tasting was in this intimidating building that imposed on the countryside. We went down to the cellar and tasted a few wines. The second tour guide was not as good. She wasn't as obsessed with wine as Emilie was. So, I called that my limit and we headed off to see a beautiful view. This is where the biking began to get interesting. We went to a neighboring village, took one look at the steep road we were supposed to climb and decided to wait at the bottom for the boys. So what did Ila, Gayle and Carla do while they were huffing and puffing up the hill? We fell asleep. My mom fell asleep on a rock.
After our little siesta in a field somewhere, we don't know, we biked back to Beaune. We were lost a few more times in little villages, but it didn't matter. With Lafayette (Pierre) in the lead, we were sure to find our way back to the Bike Shop.
We cruised into town a few minutes before it closed and dropped off our noble, somewhat uncomfortable steeds. After we went back to the hotel and got cleaned up, we decided to eat in Beaune at this nice restaurant in a wine cellar.
Little did we know, the meal would be outstanding! The French Madame who owned the place was ridiculously friendly, and I actually ordered my meal in French for the first time! I ordered the special, Boef Burgogne, from the region. We seriously ate so much we were stuffed to the gills. For dessert, my sister, my mom and I ordered Creme Brulee. It was a 3 selection creme. The first was with fruit, the second flavored with plant, and the third flavored with flower. Nobody liked the plant. And we ate geraniums, we found out later.
We rolled ourselves home and were gearing up for the next day.
Ellwyn wanted to go down to the biking area and taste wines and virtually combine his two favorite things. So, with Pierre Parent in tow, we rented an Audi to seat the 5 of us and headed down to Burgogne, about a 3 hour drive southeast of Paris. On the way down there, we had a lovely time laughing and joking around about the drive. Some of the countryside was covered in sunflowers, but the flowers didn't all seem to face the same direction. Pierre suggested that sometimes they turn away from the sun if they don't want to get burned.
Pierre as the voice of the Lead Sunflower: "Come on ladies, let's turn around!"
On our drive we had lovely snacks to split. The toll booth even gave us a little care package! Inside it was some magazines, a water and this nasty tasting mint drink in a bottle. Imagine alka-seltzer blended with mouthwash, and drink. Gross!
So we finally headed into Beaune around 10:30 that night. After stopping at a pub to ask for directions, we followed our way out into the country to the Golf Estate. Let me clarify: our hotel was not connected in any way to a golf course, but was simply geographically close to one. Thus, it borrowed the name and claimed it was a Golf Hotel. Wrong. It was really nice except there were 2 showers and only 1 toilet for the 5 of us, and the toilet was placed in the middle of the entire apartment. So much for privacy.
The following morning our parents wake us up at 5:39am, or what feels like it and we head downstairs for breakfast. I think everyone in the hotel wanted to eat at the same time and it seemed like it when there were not nearly enough dishes to go around.
After brekkie, we headed into town to rent our velos, or bicycles. I made t-shirts for our tour, but the luggage was STILL lost, and so only Ila and I had ours. Burgogne Bike Brigade 07 was underway. After we rented the bikes (which only took about an hour of waiting around) Ellwyn took two pedals and realized he had a flat/low tire. So we had to wait some more. We cleared that up and headed to the Casino... which is the grocery store.
We picked up food to make a picnic at a castle with a prince! So finally we head off into the hills. A few kilometers later, we are at our first Domain. It had a large chateau on it and the wine cellars. Our tour guide, Emilie, was fantastic! She was the typical beautiful french girl, and she was in love with wine. We tasted and tasted. And tasted and tasted. In total, I think I remember tasting 12 wines there...before lunch. We were all tipsy. We managed to pull out our food and assemble it into a lovely picnic, with another bottle of wine. Holy cow. After we ate, Ila and I took a nap.
We woke up shortly after and decided to bike to the next Chateau. We made it, and only got lost a couple of times. I blame the vin. The second tasting was in this intimidating building that imposed on the countryside. We went down to the cellar and tasted a few wines. The second tour guide was not as good. She wasn't as obsessed with wine as Emilie was. So, I called that my limit and we headed off to see a beautiful view. This is where the biking began to get interesting. We went to a neighboring village, took one look at the steep road we were supposed to climb and decided to wait at the bottom for the boys. So what did Ila, Gayle and Carla do while they were huffing and puffing up the hill? We fell asleep. My mom fell asleep on a rock.
After our little siesta in a field somewhere, we don't know, we biked back to Beaune. We were lost a few more times in little villages, but it didn't matter. With Lafayette (Pierre) in the lead, we were sure to find our way back to the Bike Shop.
We cruised into town a few minutes before it closed and dropped off our noble, somewhat uncomfortable steeds. After we went back to the hotel and got cleaned up, we decided to eat in Beaune at this nice restaurant in a wine cellar.
Little did we know, the meal would be outstanding! The French Madame who owned the place was ridiculously friendly, and I actually ordered my meal in French for the first time! I ordered the special, Boef Burgogne, from the region. We seriously ate so much we were stuffed to the gills. For dessert, my sister, my mom and I ordered Creme Brulee. It was a 3 selection creme. The first was with fruit, the second flavored with plant, and the third flavored with flower. Nobody liked the plant. And we ate geraniums, we found out later.
We rolled ourselves home and were gearing up for the next day.
The Not So Bonne Table
Last night in Paris, we walked all around the city. We returned to the Tour Eiffel, the Pantheon and the Catacombs. The catacombs were crazy! So many bones, so little time. It is really creepy walking down 124 steps into this underground world and then being immersed in a pathway surrounded by thousands of bones. I got some great photos which I hopefully will put online some time soon.
Paris is still cold and cloudy, bleecch! We are heading down to Bonne and Burgogne to go biking as a family with Pierre Parent. Unfortunately, the luggage still hasn't come, so our parents will be having a great time riding around in Ila and my clothes. And we won't all match in our Burgogne Bike Brigade t-shirts... sadly, only Ila and I have ours.
So to the main event of this blog: Dinner last night.
It was awful.
First of all, it took us about 30 minutes to pick which restaurant we wanted. Dad wanted one off the main street so it was quieter. I wasn't picky, but I wanted a place I would be able to eat something small. We settled on this out of the way restaurant called the Bonne Table. Since we had been sight-seeing all day and my parents didn't have any other clothes, we didn't exactly look nice. The host sat us with only a few french looks of disdain.
The restaurant resembled a funeral parlor. Everything was pink with cherry wood. There was only 1 other couple in the place when we sat down. Ila joked the restaurant was just a cover for the mafia and then man scurried to the back to tell the people, "Oh no! We have people here! We have to serve them food!"
So, after a few minutes of mulling over what we wanted, we finally got the attention of the host. He was also the only waiter. At this point, there was only 3 other people in the entire place but he was furiously running around as if it were packed. We weren't sure what a few of the choices were on the menu so we asked him. And good lord, you would have thought we had asked him to run a marathon carrying a watermelon barefoot in the desert. He gave us short answers, then finally took our order and asked us each several times what we wanted. Not to get it right, but he was just not paying attention.
So, then we wait. And wait. He brought out our bottle of wine, opened it, and promptly left. He didn't pour it. So then we were confused. We were locked in a battle of stubbornness. We didn't want to pour it, but we felt silly waiting to do it if we were meant to ourselves. Every time he walked by our table he stringently avoided eye contact as if he were disgusted to look at us. When we thought it couldn't get any worse, we asked for water. Well actually, we had ordered it with our main meal but he regretted to bring it.
So finally, he has a free moment, yeah right, and goes to get us water. Up front. And brings back this tiny little carafe which I think was meant to water the plants out front. We were all laughing so hard we had to bite our lips.
Then the main meal came. Mom had ordered a sausage thing, Dad got seabass, I ordered steak and Ila had duck.
He placed our meals in front of us by starting at one end of the table and reaching over the person sitting directly under him to give the person to their left their food. Example: He served my mom her pork. Then, staying in the same spot, he reached across her and plopped my dad's seabass down. Good lord.
Now on to the comments on the food. My beef sucked. It tasted blah. But its okay, because my mom and I were both served extra helpings of potatoes? My dad's seabass was... petite. Imagine 38g of fish. Yeah. And Ila's managed to be okay. She really liked it.
Halfway through eating this stuff, I smelled something. And I have an intense sense of smell. It was overwhelming. Poop was radiating through the restaurant. I thought a pipe must have burst and raw sewage was flowing under our feet. So, naturally, I told my family, "I smell poop!" And Ila all of the sudden smells it as well. I am just starting to get alarmed when my mother sheepishly looks up and says, "It's okay. It's just my food."
Oh. my. god.
I didn't know food could smell that bad! Turns out, what appeared to be sausage was something closer to Poop Pork. And we looked at her plate and though the food was cut up, it didn't look like she had managed to eat anything. And my mom is not a picky eater at all! So, I was laughing so hard I was crying and so was the entire table. I am sure the host/waiter hated us by this point. In fact, I'm pretty sure there were open looks of disgust being shot our way. Surprisingly, the other French people in the restaurant didn't seem to mind us.
The next course was cheese and I thought I would get a nice brie, and maybe Camembert. Turns out, I ordered stinky ear wax. So, I couldn't eat it, but my family liked it. Then as my Dad continued to eat, my mom was talking about other cheese. She mentioned, just as Ellwyn took a huge bite, that she remembered some Chevre cheese used to be wrapped in Pigeon dung. Well, that set us off again.
Picture the scene: Ellwyn choking and coughing in this quiet restaurant while the french host glares at us across the way. We weren't being that loud but we were still angering him.
Finally the dessert came, and it was delicious. The service continued to suck as we asked for another bottle of water, and it never came.
Mom and I left early to go over to Pierre's to pick up our stuff and apparently the bill situation was just as awful as the rest of the meal. Puke.
Oh wait, and then on the way home, Ila got sick and threw up when we made it back to the apartment. I want meals to be memorable here, but good lord. It was the worst one of my life. Way to go, Bonne Table.
Paris is still cold and cloudy, bleecch! We are heading down to Bonne and Burgogne to go biking as a family with Pierre Parent. Unfortunately, the luggage still hasn't come, so our parents will be having a great time riding around in Ila and my clothes. And we won't all match in our Burgogne Bike Brigade t-shirts... sadly, only Ila and I have ours.
So to the main event of this blog: Dinner last night.
It was awful.
First of all, it took us about 30 minutes to pick which restaurant we wanted. Dad wanted one off the main street so it was quieter. I wasn't picky, but I wanted a place I would be able to eat something small. We settled on this out of the way restaurant called the Bonne Table. Since we had been sight-seeing all day and my parents didn't have any other clothes, we didn't exactly look nice. The host sat us with only a few french looks of disdain.
The restaurant resembled a funeral parlor. Everything was pink with cherry wood. There was only 1 other couple in the place when we sat down. Ila joked the restaurant was just a cover for the mafia and then man scurried to the back to tell the people, "Oh no! We have people here! We have to serve them food!"
So, after a few minutes of mulling over what we wanted, we finally got the attention of the host. He was also the only waiter. At this point, there was only 3 other people in the entire place but he was furiously running around as if it were packed. We weren't sure what a few of the choices were on the menu so we asked him. And good lord, you would have thought we had asked him to run a marathon carrying a watermelon barefoot in the desert. He gave us short answers, then finally took our order and asked us each several times what we wanted. Not to get it right, but he was just not paying attention.
So, then we wait. And wait. He brought out our bottle of wine, opened it, and promptly left. He didn't pour it. So then we were confused. We were locked in a battle of stubbornness. We didn't want to pour it, but we felt silly waiting to do it if we were meant to ourselves. Every time he walked by our table he stringently avoided eye contact as if he were disgusted to look at us. When we thought it couldn't get any worse, we asked for water. Well actually, we had ordered it with our main meal but he regretted to bring it.
So finally, he has a free moment, yeah right, and goes to get us water. Up front. And brings back this tiny little carafe which I think was meant to water the plants out front. We were all laughing so hard we had to bite our lips.
Then the main meal came. Mom had ordered a sausage thing, Dad got seabass, I ordered steak and Ila had duck.
He placed our meals in front of us by starting at one end of the table and reaching over the person sitting directly under him to give the person to their left their food. Example: He served my mom her pork. Then, staying in the same spot, he reached across her and plopped my dad's seabass down. Good lord.
Now on to the comments on the food. My beef sucked. It tasted blah. But its okay, because my mom and I were both served extra helpings of potatoes? My dad's seabass was... petite. Imagine 38g of fish. Yeah. And Ila's managed to be okay. She really liked it.
Halfway through eating this stuff, I smelled something. And I have an intense sense of smell. It was overwhelming. Poop was radiating through the restaurant. I thought a pipe must have burst and raw sewage was flowing under our feet. So, naturally, I told my family, "I smell poop!" And Ila all of the sudden smells it as well. I am just starting to get alarmed when my mother sheepishly looks up and says, "It's okay. It's just my food."
Oh. my. god.
I didn't know food could smell that bad! Turns out, what appeared to be sausage was something closer to Poop Pork. And we looked at her plate and though the food was cut up, it didn't look like she had managed to eat anything. And my mom is not a picky eater at all! So, I was laughing so hard I was crying and so was the entire table. I am sure the host/waiter hated us by this point. In fact, I'm pretty sure there were open looks of disgust being shot our way. Surprisingly, the other French people in the restaurant didn't seem to mind us.
The next course was cheese and I thought I would get a nice brie, and maybe Camembert. Turns out, I ordered stinky ear wax. So, I couldn't eat it, but my family liked it. Then as my Dad continued to eat, my mom was talking about other cheese. She mentioned, just as Ellwyn took a huge bite, that she remembered some Chevre cheese used to be wrapped in Pigeon dung. Well, that set us off again.
Picture the scene: Ellwyn choking and coughing in this quiet restaurant while the french host glares at us across the way. We weren't being that loud but we were still angering him.
Finally the dessert came, and it was delicious. The service continued to suck as we asked for another bottle of water, and it never came.
Mom and I left early to go over to Pierre's to pick up our stuff and apparently the bill situation was just as awful as the rest of the meal. Puke.
Oh wait, and then on the way home, Ila got sick and threw up when we made it back to the apartment. I want meals to be memorable here, but good lord. It was the worst one of my life. Way to go, Bonne Table.
Live. Laugh. Love.
Two fantastic quotes from Stephane Laurent last night at dinner.
"Here is a map of the triangle of snobism of Ila" upon referring to the cities she knows well in France. (St. Tropez, Biarritz and Deauville)
And, "None of my jazz is out of control" in reference to my dad and him listening to music, all genres, and my request to play some crazy free style jazz.
After the most gorgeous dinner, I lay my head on the pillow waiting to fall asleep. We had salmon on rocket lettuce, rack of lamb, spinace, cheese and a pear tart for dessert. This cacophony of tastes was all pulled together by amazing French wines. Mmm...My palate is back on track.
The rooms Ila and I have for the next 2 weeks are amazing. We are staying in Romain and his brother Arthur's rooms. Romain's family will be in and our for the next 2 weeks. I firmly believe this is the best way to do Europe, or to travel. With great friends. You can take things slowly and savor the moments, Life could not get much better!
The Code
After returning to the same bakery as yesterday's snack, we agreed to get cleaned up and meet our parents at the steps of the Pantheon. Today we will walk around and I will get to take photos of all the classic Parisian monuments. We only had one little baby hiccup.
We have keys to the apartment, but we don't have the door code. Ila forgot to get it. Ay carumba! We passed an internet cafe on the way home, and Ila has the code in an email so she sat down and checked it. The very cute boy working at the internet caf charged us... 50 cents. And the code was no where near what Ila guessed it was. Ah well, c'est la vie living with the Disastro!
"Here is a map of the triangle of snobism of Ila" upon referring to the cities she knows well in France. (St. Tropez, Biarritz and Deauville)
And, "None of my jazz is out of control" in reference to my dad and him listening to music, all genres, and my request to play some crazy free style jazz.
After the most gorgeous dinner, I lay my head on the pillow waiting to fall asleep. We had salmon on rocket lettuce, rack of lamb, spinace, cheese and a pear tart for dessert. This cacophony of tastes was all pulled together by amazing French wines. Mmm...My palate is back on track.
The rooms Ila and I have for the next 2 weeks are amazing. We are staying in Romain and his brother Arthur's rooms. Romain's family will be in and our for the next 2 weeks. I firmly believe this is the best way to do Europe, or to travel. With great friends. You can take things slowly and savor the moments, Life could not get much better!
The Code
After returning to the same bakery as yesterday's snack, we agreed to get cleaned up and meet our parents at the steps of the Pantheon. Today we will walk around and I will get to take photos of all the classic Parisian monuments. We only had one little baby hiccup.
We have keys to the apartment, but we don't have the door code. Ila forgot to get it. Ay carumba! We passed an internet cafe on the way home, and Ila has the code in an email so she sat down and checked it. The very cute boy working at the internet caf charged us... 50 cents. And the code was no where near what Ila guessed it was. Ah well, c'est la vie living with the Disastro!
Everybody Dance Now
So, I think my new fqvorite thing has got to be running through airports...especially Munich.
Ila and I got off our flight from Sofia and managed to get to Munich 20 minutes before our flight back to Paris. But we weren't sure how much time we had, since neither of us has a watch, cell phone or clock of any kind. Our parents are bringing that when we see them tomorrow.
So, in order to make sure our plane didn't leave, I sprinted down the halls of Munich Airport, flying past 20 gates in less than 3 minutes. Phew. It felt good to run again. Luckily, we had plenty of time and even had a chance to grab some international newspapers with crosswords in them. I won the CW competition, of course. Heh heh.
"It's Beauty in a Tart"
Shockingly, after our connections in Munich, Ila and I also caught our train in Paris to the Quartier Latine. We met up with our parents at their hotel.
Ila and I immediately went to a patisserie and got some amazing french snacks. She had been craving a Tarte au Frese, and I opted for a quiche. So freaking amazing. We sipped espresso and lamented over the cold weather in Paris. It's around 50-60F here everyday. Much different from the last few times we have been here. (ahem, 100+ everyday)
We are both running out of warm clothes, and by warm, I mean not a sun dress that I thought would be perfect for walking around in. So, after the snack we went to our parents hotel and found Ellwyn in the room. Gayle was out shopping already! Which brings me to their next misfortune...
They were in Heathrow, going to Terminal 4, British Airways, when the terror attack was thwarted. All of their luggage was thrown into a huge pile. It is somewhere in the EU right now, and so they literally have the clothes on their back. My dad, Ellwyn the Enginerd, bought 1 clean t-shirt for E3.90. It is a white v-neck that says, "loco forever" with a picture of 2 naked girls on it! He says it epitomizes their misadventures over the last 2 days.
As we were wandering around Paris, I couldn't help but grin at the thought of the next 2 weeks. Here is my priority list:
1. Writing
2. Reading
3. Taking Pictures
4. French Food
And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
Get psyched! as Ila said about her favorite snack, "It's beauty in a tart!"
Ila and I got off our flight from Sofia and managed to get to Munich 20 minutes before our flight back to Paris. But we weren't sure how much time we had, since neither of us has a watch, cell phone or clock of any kind. Our parents are bringing that when we see them tomorrow.
So, in order to make sure our plane didn't leave, I sprinted down the halls of Munich Airport, flying past 20 gates in less than 3 minutes. Phew. It felt good to run again. Luckily, we had plenty of time and even had a chance to grab some international newspapers with crosswords in them. I won the CW competition, of course. Heh heh.
"It's Beauty in a Tart"
Shockingly, after our connections in Munich, Ila and I also caught our train in Paris to the Quartier Latine. We met up with our parents at their hotel.
Ila and I immediately went to a patisserie and got some amazing french snacks. She had been craving a Tarte au Frese, and I opted for a quiche. So freaking amazing. We sipped espresso and lamented over the cold weather in Paris. It's around 50-60F here everyday. Much different from the last few times we have been here. (ahem, 100+ everyday)
We are both running out of warm clothes, and by warm, I mean not a sun dress that I thought would be perfect for walking around in. So, after the snack we went to our parents hotel and found Ellwyn in the room. Gayle was out shopping already! Which brings me to their next misfortune...
They were in Heathrow, going to Terminal 4, British Airways, when the terror attack was thwarted. All of their luggage was thrown into a huge pile. It is somewhere in the EU right now, and so they literally have the clothes on their back. My dad, Ellwyn the Enginerd, bought 1 clean t-shirt for E3.90. It is a white v-neck that says, "loco forever" with a picture of 2 naked girls on it! He says it epitomizes their misadventures over the last 2 days.
As we were wandering around Paris, I couldn't help but grin at the thought of the next 2 weeks. Here is my priority list:
1. Writing
2. Reading
3. Taking Pictures
4. French Food
And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
Get psyched! as Ila said about her favorite snack, "It's beauty in a tart!"
I Heart Bulgaria
This one will be brief.
We made it back to Sofia and head back through Munich to Paris.
Hopefully we can make all of our flights and we can meet up with our parents. They got stuck in Heathrow yesterday.
I would just like to say that I cannot stomach the idea of terrorism. Seriously people, where is the love? Stop trying to blow things/people up! You are disasters!
We are going to have dinner tonight in Paris with Romain's parents. I am excited at the idea of having the rest of my clothes tomorrow.
Ila and I did some more shopping. I love Bulgaria!
We made it back to Sofia and head back through Munich to Paris.
Hopefully we can make all of our flights and we can meet up with our parents. They got stuck in Heathrow yesterday.
I would just like to say that I cannot stomach the idea of terrorism. Seriously people, where is the love? Stop trying to blow things/people up! You are disasters!
We are going to have dinner tonight in Paris with Romain's parents. I am excited at the idea of having the rest of my clothes tomorrow.
Ila and I did some more shopping. I love Bulgaria!
Stravey, Plamen!
I would just like to begin this entry by saying 2 things.
1. There is a God
and 2. He has a sense of humor.
So we travel to Sunny Beach and I didn't want to be carsick so I took a Dramamine. As anybody who knows me knows, I get sleepy when I take the damn pills. Real sleepy. Fragonard, anyone? So we got to our beautiful apartment on the beach and immediately went out onto the strip. I was so surprised with all the development! Bulgaria is certainly a developed nation with everything in full swing. The beach has massive resorts everywhere and tons of Swedes and Germans walking around.
The temperature is really pleasant. The instant you become too hot the sea breeze drifts in and cools you down.
We went out dancing last night after our walk. We saw the Boys 2 d Max show, again, and Plamen was actually there. The saga continues. One of the dancers loved Emilia and asked her to come back tomorrow and hang out again. Ay de mi. So get excited, we are going out again tonight.
Okay now for the dramatic irony of the trip. Today we went to the beach, obviously. It was cloudy at first but then it became sunny and nice. The water was cool and refreshing as any good Sea should be. But somehow, I developed a skin rash/heat rash. All over. It was really disgusting, I pretty much wanted to puke. Under normal circumstances I would be fine...I would whip out my medical kit and tend to my nasty spots. But, I didn't bring it to Bulgaria, thinking, oh, I don't know, I could be healthy for a week. But no. At the first pharmacy we went to the ladies saw some zits on my shoulders (bacne, who doesn't have some) and thought it was a staph infection! Oy! But then I really thought it was just a rash that I needed antihistamine for. So, I took medicine and by today it is all cleared up.
I Think I'll Eat Some Worms
Long stories short: We went to Boys 2D Max...again. Plamen winked at me, and held my little hand for a moment. Emilia met and hung out with the guy who likes her. We may hang out with all of them tonight.
And, Ila ate a cherry from one that Marco bought. He bit into one of them and there was a worm in it! so the rest of the day, Ila was paranoid that she had worms growing in her stomach. The end.
1. There is a God
and 2. He has a sense of humor.
So we travel to Sunny Beach and I didn't want to be carsick so I took a Dramamine. As anybody who knows me knows, I get sleepy when I take the damn pills. Real sleepy. Fragonard, anyone? So we got to our beautiful apartment on the beach and immediately went out onto the strip. I was so surprised with all the development! Bulgaria is certainly a developed nation with everything in full swing. The beach has massive resorts everywhere and tons of Swedes and Germans walking around.
The temperature is really pleasant. The instant you become too hot the sea breeze drifts in and cools you down.
We went out dancing last night after our walk. We saw the Boys 2 d Max show, again, and Plamen was actually there. The saga continues. One of the dancers loved Emilia and asked her to come back tomorrow and hang out again. Ay de mi. So get excited, we are going out again tonight.
Okay now for the dramatic irony of the trip. Today we went to the beach, obviously. It was cloudy at first but then it became sunny and nice. The water was cool and refreshing as any good Sea should be. But somehow, I developed a skin rash/heat rash. All over. It was really disgusting, I pretty much wanted to puke. Under normal circumstances I would be fine...I would whip out my medical kit and tend to my nasty spots. But, I didn't bring it to Bulgaria, thinking, oh, I don't know, I could be healthy for a week. But no. At the first pharmacy we went to the ladies saw some zits on my shoulders (bacne, who doesn't have some) and thought it was a staph infection! Oy! But then I really thought it was just a rash that I needed antihistamine for. So, I took medicine and by today it is all cleared up.
I Think I'll Eat Some Worms
Long stories short: We went to Boys 2D Max...again. Plamen winked at me, and held my little hand for a moment. Emilia met and hung out with the guy who likes her. We may hang out with all of them tonight.
And, Ila ate a cherry from one that Marco bought. He bit into one of them and there was a worm in it! so the rest of the day, Ila was paranoid that she had worms growing in her stomach. The end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)