Here's another one:

05-07-06

We got up after another short night (there’s just too much work and play going on here!) and A.J. and I rode our bikes for the first time to class. Bikes rule. After class, we went to the Resto U (university restaurant shortened by trendy French yuppies (pure conjecture)) which serves surprisingly good food for a cafeteria. Where but a French cafeteria can you get flan, mousse and cheese desserts to go along with your delicious pile of lasagna?

After lunch I did laundry and showered and then sat down with my Ipod and looked out of the unbelievably awesome window nook we have to the really pretty church across the river.

Then it was World Cup time! A.J. and I met up with Mourad and Chris and went to a beer store, where we bought Mourad’s favorite kind of beer. We sat on the riverbank and enjoyed it before grabbing a delicious dinner at the Resto U. Believe me: I know cafeteria food, and this is delicious. Or maybe I like food regardless of what it is. That actually might be it.

Then it was World Cup time!? So we went to Parc de l’Etoile and sat around in a huge group of thousands of people and waited for the game to start. Before it did, more than one percussion section led fans in fight songs while cocky youths waved flares. The scene was made more intense by the thunderstorms looming over Strasbourg. It was so hardcore it was almost funny. Don’t worry, I love American sports, but there’s nothing like the World Cup in the United States.

Then big drops of rain came falling and A.J. and I, being good Kansas boys, knew that it was about to rain somethin’ fierce. So we ran under a building as it began to pour. Coincidentally, the World Cup game began, much to our chagrin. So we jogged/speedwalked/French fightsonged our way back to the dorm Gallia where we angstfully watched the first half in a balmy room on the top floor by ourselves.

At halftime we ran to a bar. Then another. Then another. They were all full. Finally we reached Murphy’s an Irish pub and coincidentally the local English-speaking enclave. It was full too, but we jammed into the doorway and could see the match easily.

Long story short, Zissou Zidane, the French star player, got a penalty kick in the middle of the first half and scored. It was huge. Portugal had the wind knocked out of their Caravels. While they came painfully close to scoring again, it just didn’t happen. France one. People freaked out.

We had fun. We chanted fight songs up and down the streets, watched flares being lit, watched every car honk raucously, watched people gorging on wine, beer and unruly Latin-derived revelry. People climbed on statues in town squares. Motorcycles roared, cars drove fast and braked faster, the tram was operational, and buses still crawled through the city like armored caterpillars. People hung out of the cars like Sudanese militia, and motorcycles drove as crazy as they always did, just with a higher blood/alcohol level. Of course, no one seemed to get killed because they all have nine lives and the alcohol capacity of seven-foot corn-fed Vikings. Ok, I’m tired. I’ve seen a lot tonight. Europe is neat but I’m almost tired of drinking cheap wine and shouting, “Allez les blues!” But it must be done. There is one more game. Against Italia. More to come. Oh, and I did my homework before I went out tonight! That made things so much easier.

Oh jeez, what a day. I had just gotten up at 9:30 a.m...impressive, non? When Mme. Colombo showed Lauren and Susan into our room. After they arrived I showered, and then while AJ and Susan showered Lauren I went to Fran Prix (correct spelling I think?) for baguets, Oranginas and Camembert. We returned, ate breakfast, and hopped on the metro to Forum Les Halles (that's the shopping mall where AJ and I have been). Then we walked the 6 blocks or so down to the Seine and over to the Louvre. Instead of going into the Louvre, which is what we expected ourselves to do, we ended up walking all the way down the Tuileries gardens to Place de la Concorde where the guillotine used to be (shocked face!) but now they have a pretty obelisk from Egypt (pleasant face).

After that, we got on the metro, and by random decision went to a place (accidentally) too near to the Eiffel tower and got a rude treatment at a restaurant, even though we spoke french and even though ordered wine...the maitre d' just was not a happy camper. So he didn't get any extra tip beyond what state law automatically includes. C'est juste, la capitalisme, non? Also, the food was just really...off. Especially for an American like me. I ordered Un Salad de mer (seafood salad) and got a salad with raw fish, raw shrimp, and (raw?) crab meat. There wasn't a dressing, but don't worry, raw fish juice coated everything. I choked some down, and had to peel the shrimp, and when I bit the shrimp its blood went everywhere. Haha but don't worry it's a half day later and I am just dandy without food poisoning, so at least everything was sterile enough, although I had a stomache ache for a while...oh, also the guy took our wine before we are finished...isn't there a law against that? Anyway, lunch = not a good experience, but even bad experiences are good sometimes, and as experiences go, that was a fun one.

Anyway after lunch we were all completely shot, so we allowed the metro to jerkily wisk us back to the Chateau d'Eau stop on our familiar Rue de Sevastopol, where we went back to Mme Colombo's. The girls took a nap while AJ and I scouted out a place to watch the World Cup Games...that's right, we watched them. With french people. In Europe. Don't worry, it gets better.

Oh, while we were looking for a place I stopped in a phone booth and tried to call home...sorry, it didn't work, I didn't get the numbers correct and I forgot the country code and the phone booth was at least 100 farenheit, so I was baking alive and was not willing to spend beaucoup de temps poking at a phone card. But don't worry, voice communication to come (pour la famille).

Anyway, so about this whole world cup business. AJ and I find this awesome bar/cafe/bistro/TV room. Also, the maitre d' of this bar was the nicest French dude I have ever met. He was so incredibly hospitable and amiable it made you feel guilty. He completly and unequivocally made up for that jerk restauranteur somewhere near the Eiffel Tower. We sit down at 4:50 with front-row seats to the tube. The first game starts at 5:00, so we order a large beer each and sit back and enjoy the England Portugal game. It was an incredible nail biter, 0-0 until the end, it was decided on the 5th penalty kick. C'est marveilleuse. The first game ends at 7:45 or so, the girls arrive, and we order some food. We finish eating, and the 2nd game kicks off. This is the one where France plays Brazil. This is not like the College World Series or something. For this game, the entire country shuts down. The streets grow a bit eerie and quiet. This game is huge, because Brazil is like the New York Yankees of futbol. They are loaded with stars. France is the easy underdog. Now the locals are jam packed in around us, chanting "Allez les blues!" (Go blue!) (for France) (perhaps that was a bit obvious). (Anyway,) Of course, we order another round of beers with the locals (1664 Kroneburg seems to be quite popular here) as the action really starts heating up. Finally, in the second half France scores first (and only) goal of the game. Remember, this game is huge. One goal is also huge, because that means France wins. France moves on to the semi-finals (I think). Brazil is done. The crowd of 30 or so in our brasserie roared like solid wall for about two full minutes. Hugging abounded.

Then something incredible happened: Paris was quiet for a few more minutes, then suddenly cars started honking. A firework detonated much to close for comfort. And then shouts came from everywhere. Cars appeared out of nowhere and honked in joyful rhythms. Motorcyclists beelined to and fro, their drivers intent on not crashing and making as much horn and engine noise as possible. Soon it was almost too loud to hear anything as the city roared. You would have thought they won the whole cup instead of a quarterfinal (I think) match.

As we were settling our tab, the bartender (the really awesome nice dude) had gotten something wrong on the tab and was so apologetic he insisted we have "something for digestion" We didn't really know what he meant and politefully declined. He instisted two more times and we still declined. Finally, his Italian assistant, who couldn't seem to take no for an answer, absolutely insisted we accept the offer. He produced four shot glasses out of the bar and filled them up with something hard that had an apple on the front of it. It was my first shooter ever (and on the house, too!). Down the hatch. (Thus concludes the alcohol drinking and, to whom it may concern, I never had more than three drinks within an hour. I always want to stay in control. If I ever get drunk, I've made a mistake.).

Anyway, the French went absolutely nuts. Paris can be known for being uptight, formal, and civilized city. Tonight it looks like an enormous neoclassical college town. Only more rowdy. Everyone hugged everyone and yelled "Allez!" (go!, like woo! or, booya!, or let's get them!, or #*%&$! Brazil, or...you get the picture). Cars filled the streets with honking. Police cars and fire trucks (I kid you not) drove up and down the street in convoys with their lights blaring just waving at everyone - there was no crime, there was no fire. I even saw one fire truck drive down a street lined with revelers who reached in to the truck (like every other car) just to congratulate the firefighters. If this stuff happened in America somebody would be doing jail time! Who are these french people? Flags were waved out of half the cars. Preteen children celebrated by hanging halfway out of backseat windows. Motorcyclists cruised along streets at speeds unsafe for country roads. Audis blared techno - or live radio of screaming french from other parts of the city. Paris had up and loosened its belt (considerably). We all walked along, marveling, shouting, hugging, cheering, laughing, as all this occured around us. Everyone had found some beer or wine and was celebrating. It was entirely different from Paris as I have ever seen about it or heard about it in m life. Wow. As I write this, Rave music and deep neon light is pumping from the 6th floor window across the street. Motorcycles sound like jet aircraft as they wiz by. It's crazy over here, folks.

But time for bed. It's fun to look, it's not always best to touch. (I think I'm wise or something, spouting phrases like that.)

Au revoir mes amours, I hope I can sleep tonight...

29 Juin 2006

We slept late. Until 2:00p.m. Oops. I hope we're adjusted to the time schedule by now. I got up, woke AJ up, showered, and then rewoke AJ. While he was showering, I hopped down to the market and grabbed a baguet and some bananas. We had a quick (pour les francais) breakfast and then grabbed a bus to the Pompidou Center (not for the art, or the Pompidou Center). We heard from a guy named Chuck who's staying at Mme. Colombo's that there's a Fnac (electronics, like Best Buy) near there, and we needed a converter for AJ's laptop (pour communiquer avec vous, non?) We walked up one side street and down the other, we probed into the Marais (A very nice and orderly neighborhood east of the Pompidou. We walked west of the Pompidou. South. Back north, then east again. Then west again. We finally went into a tabac (a green cross outside, they're everywhere, and sell tabacco. And everything else you'd find in a Walgreens.

"Excusez-moi madame, s'il vous plait, ou est la Fnac?"

"dflkdjafdfljadfkljd le droit" 

She pointed, so we walked that direction.

We finally happened on a mysterious huge building encased in mirrors and surrounded by birds and Parisians who looked like they meant to be there, sitting around. We were obviously not mentally with the situation, so AJ walked into another building to ask where the Fnac was. He found out it was in the interior of the building. Quel Mystere! We walked in, went down an escalator, wondering how big this cavernous beast was when voila - Fnac. We went inside, found the converter, and left. And got sucked into buying cool European stuff. Lucky us, a summer sale had just begun, so everything is like 50% off. Booya. I bought a shirt at HM (probably not an European store), but a shirt I liked was 9.5 euro. 9.9 with tax, pas mal, oui? We also went to a shoe store with some kickin' uh, shoes, and I bought a pair (only 59 euros, not bad mom and dad!). AJ found some too but they didn't have them in his size. He's a 42. Moi, 45.

After that, we walked back up Rue Sebestapol (it seems to be a good hangout for us) and sat at a sidewalk cafe. We shared a demi bouteille de vin, whatever the cheapest one was (bien sur!), and then AJ had saumon avec une salade verte, and I had Penne au saumon. Our salmon was outlandishly good, especially at a modest price of 9 euros! We sat there for at least an hour. We saw crazy french motorists, fashionable pedestrians, a chewbacca-like dog, and got hit on by a gay italian, who was vocally chased away by the other patrons. Though I ordered in French, the waitress slipped english words in as she spoke, and seemed to smile in a self-satisfied manner as she did. However, they can understand my french! And everyone seems to be very polite that I am speaking their language. Or maybe it's just the American accent, which usually implies wealth. Plus, AJ and I are dressing up a little bit, which is normal for Parisians, but good for Americans. So who knows. Quand je parle francais, les francais probablement ecoutent, "l'argent l'argent l'argent." Anyway, the dinner was fantastic, and would have cost twice that much in the states. We just walked back to the hotel, and are soon taking a bus to the Seine for another evening sur la rive... Au revoir mes amours!