Homesick

You never know how much you like something until it's gone. This trip has really made me realize how much I value the presence of Ramen in my live. It's price, it's varieties, it's easy preparation...Recently I came to the conclusion that I can't live without it. I went to two supermarkets by my house to find it, but it wasn't there. I choked back tears as I searched the aisles desperately again and again. A few days passed and I had nearly given up hope when I heard that it could be found in the Carrefour. I put on my tennis shoes and set out on a one hour walking expedition to the store. I went through neighborhoods rich and poor before reaching the store. I eventually found it, but the store was bigger than WalMart. It seemed impossible, going through every aisle it could be in (food in bulk, pasta, easy preparation) before I blindly stumbled upon Asian specialty. The walk home was marked by anticipation, and when I came home to prepare the Ramen in just 3 minutes! I was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. Yum.

Eze/Easy E

I went to a little village called Eze over the weekend. If you say all the letters in the name, it sounds like Easy E. There's a perfume factory there with a free tour. I learned some things there, like did you know that smelling perfume is a special job and only 150 people in the world do it? They aren't allowed to drink or smoke, and they go to school for ten years to train. There are only three schools in the world. They are called "noses" when they graduate. Also, aluminum is better to hold perfume in because it keeps the fragrance longer. And perfume is stronger than eau de parfum, which is stronger than eau de toilette. They gave us a little quiz where we matched the scent to the picture, and I'm pretty sure being a nose is not in my future because I thought the rose was vanilla. The tour ended with a high-pressure sales pitch for kind of pricey bottles in a sales room. I pretended to think about it as I walked around the room and smelled different things while making thinking faces, and then as soon as the sales girl wasn't looking I made a dash for it. Classy.

I made a real joke in French, but Cybelle didn't think it was funny. She was singing this little song in French about having a bad memory and she couldn't remember the words, so I was like 'you really do have a bad memory!' That's funny, right? I just got a little condescending smile.

This is something you just don't see back home

Here are some things that are unique to Europe:

1. Mullets. They're back! Only for men.
2. White pants on guys with huge flashy belt buckles.
3. Tiny dogs everywhere.
4. "Hot Stuff" in every pub all the time. And then in my head. Lookin' for some HOT STUFF baby this evening. I need some HOT STUFF baby tonight. Looking for some HOT STUFF baby this evening. Gotta find some hot stuff, gotta find some LOVE tonight.
5. More expensive to eat at the place than to take stuff to go. So usually I end up sitting next to the same homeless guy on the steps for lunch.

Yep. That's how it is out here.

Doggies!

The French obviously don't understand reality TV. I was watching this show called Secret Story, which is pretty awesome conceptually. There's a list of secrets, and one is true of every person in the house. The members of the house have to guard their secret and figure out the other people's secrets, and the winner gets a lot of money. The problem is that the secrets are not juicy at all. There's a girl with a twin, a guy who likes to break dance...completely banal. The supposedly scandalous one is a guy who thinks he saw a UFO. It was kind of cute though, because one of the challenges was that they brought in this guy's dog to be the house dog and he had to act like it wasn't his. Of course the little dog ran right to him though, so everyone figured it out.
I think I might be equally or more happy raising puppies instead of children. They don't have a rebellious phase or go to college, and they aren't duplicitous enough to understand the concept of reality TV.

"Adventure"

On Sunday night I was sick. Not dying sick, but fever-y and headache sick. I was basically wallowing in self-pity all day and then I called B to complain. I ran out of money on my phonecard, so I went to the store to try to buy another one. I walked all the way there and went to the counter only to realize I was one euro short. That's like being fifty cents short in the US in terms of how far a euro gets you. The guy wouldn't just give it to me, so I walked down the street asking for a euro but no one would give me one. I'm not usually a weepy person, but I will admit that I sat down in the park and started bawling. Embarassing, especially because it was about five minutes before somebody tried to help me. This woman and her kids were talking to me, and I asked for a euro so I could buy a telephone card to call my parents. She asked if I had the money, and I told her it was at the house but I was sick. Given the situation, she thought it was best to go to the police. I thought it was kind of weird, but I went with her. I told the police officer at the station that I was sick and I just wanted to buy some Tylenol somewhere. She said she would take care of it and five minutes later an ambulance showed up with three guys. They jumped out and I explained I just have a fever, but they thought it was best if I came with them. Free healthcare, why not? So I rode in an ambulance to the hospital, it was kind of fun. The hospital was pretty typical; crazy people were yelling and stuff like that. I got some tylenol and left without paying anything. Awesome! They didn't even ask for ID. The doctor wanted to speak in English, but when I told him I was on Birth Control he asked "breath control!?" I didn't end up calling my parents, though.

The Real 'Survivor'

My french class is scary. Some kids got demoted the other day because they weren't good enough, and I'm afraid I'm next. I froze up the other day during this exercise where I was supposed to think of a question to the answer "because our house is right over there." My first response was "why don't you want to buy this house?" but the prof didn't like that answer, so we stared at each other for about a minute and then she gave me an answer that she thought was better. Hopefully I'll do well on the quiz today so I can keep my much-coveted place in French C20.

I'm Cybelle's favorite again! Right now there's me, D, two Russians V and E, and a Czech girl T. Cybelle doesn't like T because she drinks too much and she's a rebel. V and E are out of favor because they locked their room, and when Cybelle was lecturing them on it they rolled their eyes. D's in Paris for the weekend, which means that I'm number 1! No more complaining to everybody else about how I sleep until nine! Oh, yeeah.

I've been really sick of answering the same questions in the same way, so I started to change my answers. I told this drunk guy in the park that I was from London, which went over really well. Apparently I speak French with an English accent, so everybody thinks I'm British anyway. The same day I told these two French guys that I'm from Canada. Unfortunately I was not prepared for the series of questions that followed. "What province?" Uhh, Toronto? "How long from Toronto to Windsor?" It really depends... "Do you know Canterbury street in Toronto?" Oh, yeah, there's lots of stuff on that street. "What is the average summer temperature?" Umm, you know, it's hot, but not really hot. And it just kept going like that.

I have to go ace this test now.

Thanks For Nothing, Billy Blanks

I went out dancing on Friday with my friends and this guy kept grabbing my butt. After a couple of times of craftily dancing away I turned around and slapped him in the face. I've never slapped anyone, and I have to say that I think everybody should try it at least once because it feels pretty gratifying. My sense of strength increased enormously afterwards, and so when ten minutes later some huge guy on the street grabbed me I thought I could take him no problem. I tried to hit him but he grabbed my arm like he was going to break it. Thank God my friend Spoon was around to step in and help me. At that point I realized that hours of Billy Blanks and weight training mean nothing in the real world. Damn.

My Columbian friend A got mugged the same night. She was speaking English to a salesperson and two guys grabbed her bag from her. They were walking away and calling her a stupid American so she yelled that she's actually Columbian. They asked her to speak Spanish, and when they heard her they apologized and gave her back her stuff. And that's a true story.

Hmm, que mas? This guy helped me buy a sim card to prove to me as an American that arabs are nice. He got me a seven euro discount, which was pretty great. But then he told me that he wanted to destroy America. I wasn't really sure what to make of that.
The whole time he was talking to me about the hardships of his people, but then when a black girl walked by he said "those blacks are always dancing!"

I'm done with being from the States and studying Litterature. Today I told somebody that I'm from London studying law. I think I might stop being twenty, as well. And I need a new fake name. On Friday this guy asked me for the names of my friends and I, so I went around introducing them all with fake names. Then when I got to my Polish friend she told me "No, that's not my name!" Way to ruin it.