Fishies
Chinese feast
Olive you.
My pasta creation...mmmm.
19 septembre 2009 (Day 19)
I woke up with the birds chirping and the first glimmer of sunrise. I did some yoga, got ready for the day, and went off to Commerce to meet a friend to go to the market. I talked to a sweet old woman who thought my liter stainless steel bottle was a café. I laughed and told her no and then we began to talk. She kind of made fun of me that I was reading Harry Potter because, “That is a children’s book.” She said that she had never read it, but that I needed to read the great French classics like “Ugo.” She simply insisted that I must read “L’homme Qui Rit” (The Man who Laughs) by Victor Hugo. I roamed around the market and bought some plums (which all got smashed on the way home), tomatoes, a zuchinni, apples, and French pears (which I love!). I met up with that Spaniard Juan and we got galettes (buckwheat crepes), talked about Morocco, traveling, gypsies, religion, books (You are supposed to read “Parfum” or “Smell” by a German author), and the two fights we saw at the market. We bought bananas and went to a used book store. We had a good conversation. We talked about religion a little bit. Juan was in awe that I’ve never been drunk or high. He just couldn’t fathom why I would want to miss out on such fun. “You need to live a little” as they say.
So I did live a little. Sam came by my room while I was doing homework after creating my amazing masterpiece you call dinner which I called my amazing tomato and zucchini pasta. We (Hannah, Carter, Sam, myself, and a new girl Jessica) went off into town to get Sam a café. While waiting for the tram this boy who was homosexual, totally wasted, and speaking Franglais talked to us all and got Hannah’s phone number. He texted her Sunday to say sorry that he was so very drunk but that he would like to meet her. There were some other French boys waiting for the tram as well (three, ages 18-19) who we went around town with, meandering down streets, the boys getting beers, Hannah and Jessica searching for food. We saw a fire breather and Hannah met up with her cute and hilarious Irish friend Patrick Brady. He is in France learning how to manage- in a cheese factory. He doesn’t speak any French. French with an Irish accent is hilarious in case you’ve never heard it. It amazes me how many drunk idiots there are in the world. They were either being “shh’d” by their friends whom they were embarrassing, or so tired that they were sleeping. I don’t understand it, but it can be pretty funny to watch. We ended up leaving the Centre-ville and coming back to the dorms where our new French friends live and had crepes with them. They showed us all their American music (which they know by heart) and asked us what the songs were about. It is so cute and strange- they are these songs they love and adore, listen to over and over, but they ask, “What is this song about? I don’t know what it means. Is it about a girl? Is it a sad song?” They are very into punk rock, classic rock, and techno. I ended up getting to my room around 2:30am and didn’t sleep very well.
I don’t know any of the boy’s names. One was short, had glasses and a hilarious voice when he talked in English. He was pretty drunk and ended up falling asleep. The other two were brothers (from what I understood). They younger (more attractive?) blondie was very nice, articulate in his French, helpful (would correct your French), and not completely hammered and smoking a new cigarette every ten minutes. He was the one who asked us about what bands Sam and I knew (Carter went to bed and Hannah stayed out with the Irish stud). The other boy was tall, dark, and had these crazy green eyes that he liked to stare at me with. He smoked an exorbitant amount of cigarettes. He really just stared at me all night and was like, “You have really pretty eyes” or “You are beautiful” and my response was, “And you’ve drunk too much.” He was a little miffed by my response, but I am not interested in drunken rat-poison addicts (memo to self: learn how to say ‘rat poison’ in French). He was trying to get me to drink water with alcohol which, in case you have no sense of logic, is not alcohol. Creepy staring kid would see the French version of “Dora the Explorer” which I enjoyed very much. Dora in France teaches you English, not Spanish.
