Devils and Tigers

 

Who knew I would see dragons, legions, a bull, an owl, and the devil’s jester all in one day.  Only in France do the Chinese New Year and Carnaval parades collide on the streets of Paris.

The year of the Tiger. This animal is associated with the virtues of enthusiasm, passion, honesty and warmth and foibles including irascibility and recklessness.

    

This was my first exposure to any kind of traditional eastern festivity.  Apparently Paris has a fairly large French-Chinese population.  This festival is one of the city’s biggest celebrations. Unfortunately, this was not in Paris’ Chinatown, but that will be next weekend and a much larger spectacle. 

Along the way I stopped in a Chinese restaurant where I was able to buy some food à emporter. I have no idea what the Chinese dishes are called in the States, let alone the French names for them. But bought un brioche grillée au porc, un brioche aux sésames et a shrimp spring roll. This food was soooo good and soooo cheap. The pork brioche was like a big dumpling type ball stuffed with pork and the sesame brioche was deep-fried covered in sesames and stuffed with red and white bean paste – a delish, non-overpowering sweetness.

    

Succeeding the Chinese were the drunk, decorated South Americans. The Carnaval parade was vibrant and more energetic than the Chinese.  But both were well worth my fingers and toes going numb.  

  

After the parade, I found the nearest cafe which was like walking into The Rocky Horror Picture Show’s set designer’s personal sanctuary.  I have never seen so many animal prints – leopard, zebra, giraffe, cheetah, etc….Then if a wall, chair, support beam, bar stool, tabletop, waitress wasn’t covered in feline fur, it was Marilyn Monroe – plates, cups, saucers, pinups, cut-outs, etc…This place was wild.

MP

New band to check out on Monterey Purple!

Random Things

1. The residue left from the snow flurries makes the pavement glitter at night.  It is Beautiful.

2. RIP McQueen and Kumaritashvili.

3. IT IS possible to be 65, have a 2 yr old, a daughter older than your wife, and a grandson older than your own son…

4. For what it lacks in size, it makes up for in comfort and vanity…total fan of comfy mattress and full length mirrors :)

5. I have perfected the Frat House Potty Squat due to my nonexistent supply of toilet paper.

6. Dopey = Simplet in French…très mignon!

7. There is a sushi place right at the bottom of my building and I absolutely cannot wait to try it out!! They have the simple-chic rotating plates color coordinated to the price…now i just need someone to go with :/

8. Duck, Duck, Goose is called Tomato, Ketchup in France…I kind of like it. Get it? You know…like Catch-up…Ketchup? yyyyeaaaaa

9. A couple blocks away from is a famous hotel, Lutetia, celebrating it’s 100th anniversary - it was the first Art Deco hotel in Paris. During WWII Hitler had an office there…that’s pretty cool.

Bon Appétit

So I think I ate horse? the other night. I was eating dinner with the family and the mom asked me to try the ‘hamburger’ beef to see if it tasted a little different to me because Oscar said it did. So I tried it, and I thought I was going to puke from the initial nanosecond smell/taste of poop surging through my senses. Thank goodness it subsided enough for me to swallow. The rest of my chewing and eating was fine – just a little off from the regular beef savor. 

So then the mom starts talking about how she hopes it’s not horse because some people in France eat that…she said she used to eat it a lot when she was younger but they eventually banned it – um gee I wonder why? – but that you could still find it some places.

And then she goes on and on about how it is also not unheard of to eat ostrich – whoa – please just let me eat the mystery meat woman. Although I did have to inquire into that suggestion.

ME: So what does ostrich meat look like? this?

HER: Yes, just like that…like normal meat.

ME: And what does it taste like?

HER: Bahh….kind of shrugs.

ME: (to myself) Great. – Then I proceed to bring up the Chinese ‘cat’ meat theory from the States to play it off like I am totally okay with was is happening right now.

HER: She smiles and then all she has to offer is a Bon Appétit! with a chuckle

So I guess we will never know if it was horse, ostrich, liger, or some other uninformed prey.

Ironic He Was by the Cat Food…

I was in the grocery store today – La Grande Epicerie – you know it’s next to Le Bon Marché , supposed to be an upscale place…they have a lot of prepared foods, foreign foods, natural foods, its spacious etc…so I am over by the cleaning products which is where the toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, and conveniently the pet supplies. I am looking around for something and can barely stand the stench coming from the animal section. I definitely looked over a couple times to make sure there were not any live animals in cages because the odor was so real and STRONG. As I hold my breath and try to find what I am looking for as quickly as possible I swear I hear a rustle by the cat food…Me, thinking the fumes have gone to my head making me delirious, cant shake the noise…then out of my peripheral I see movement.  NOW, my logical half must test my mental stability, so I turn to stare in the general direction half of me hoping the possibility of being clinically diagnosed as insane is untrue.  All of sudden I see a f-ing MOUSE!!!

Oh   My   God --- ok pause…so the good thing - I concluded that I am not going mental…unpause --- is this a joke?!? I mean at least Fievel was in the right section of the store. But seriously? There is a live rodent in plain sight where I am buying my food. Awwwesome. For whatever illogical reason I am ok with finding a mouse in a food distribution warehouse or whatever but come on – NOT KOSHER, 5 feet away from the pickles….I have even been expecting to find a mouse in my bedroom before the end of it all, but I wasn’t quite ready for my Ratatouille experience just yet.

I thought about telling someone who worked there, but I was still playing yo-yo with the food in my throat…plus the store was closing in like 10 mins anyway.

And mice have to do their shopping sometime too right?? Right? :/

Super Bowl

I did manage to fight the windy, spicy cold and treacherous Parisian streets at midnight the night of February 7th, all for that craving of grown men tackling each other in hopes of preventing a piece of inflated pigskin from crossing a chalked line…Ahhh American football.

So I am on my way to a few bars in my area that I know are broadcasting the game.  My first stop, The Moosehead Cafe. As I approach, I see a line outside and groan as I wanted to enjoy a seat, a beer or two, and nice conversation with fellow fans.  But no, I see groups of study abroad students shelling out Maman and Papa’s $$ to get hammered and ‘experience’ France. Hmm…

So I am standing there watching the bouncers totally cheat Americans 20 Euros out of their national pastime and think to myself this cannot possibly be legal, as they Shhhsshh rowdy smokers in the street. Yea that’s what I thought, hustlers.

Obviously, my poor ass turned around and went to find the other bars. After going by 2 more bars that were charging money for admission 20-30 Euros with maybe a draft or two thrown in, I walk away hungry and sad that I won’t be enjoying my night with the Saints. 

I am walking back towards my place when I pass by Corcoran’s Irish Pub which I have frequented in the past. 

I see faces inside, taps lit, and screens hypnotizing. Even better no one standing at the door looking shady with a wad of cash in his hand….I knew this was by far my favorite bar in Paris.

Inside is perfect. Crowded but moveable.  I go to the bar to get a Kronenbourg while looking for an open seat somewhere.  I do not see anything so I stand for awhile watching the game. 

After a bit, a guy comes up to the bar and starts talking to me.  He is from Argentina.  Coupled with his poor, intoxicated English and my general lack of interest makes for a difficult conversation.

Eventually I head to the downstairs part with him where I find a seat and a big screen. At this point I am very content just watching the game and cheering alongside my fellow Americans sans dealing with questions like “Do you think I am cute?” and “Can I kiss you?”

Ok Go Away Now Please. Thank You.

Finally I am left alone to talk to two girls from Michigan, one of whom is studying graphic design at MICA - shout-out to Margs :)

Malheursement, 50%+ of the reason I watch the Super Bowl is for the commercials and of course why would they promote American commercials to a European audience.  But I did see much to my pleasure, the always satisfying Guinness ads.

“Bring it to Life”

Mais, fret not mes enfants – I watched the commercials online the next day, all 61 of them.

Royalty

This was drawn on the wall where Princess Di crashed.  Right next to it was a long note condemning modern consumerism and the corrupt links of the political world. It also made comments about how unbelievably tacit that people would ever think to honor MJ in the same vicinity of Di and that basically this wall and the mini Statue of Liberty Torch should be held as sacred artifacts enclosed in the same glass casing as the Mona Lisa and given the same attention as the preservation of Napoleon and Louis XIV’s legacies.

 

HOWEVER, I do not find it so odd that a King and Princess are memorialized in such close vicinities………….ha so cheesy :)

Carry out Anyone?

 

New post on Monterey Purple….Check it out!

Stint No. 2

It is always an adventure in Paris….

Beginning with my taxi ride from the airport to my new crib.  Leaving the taxi queue to enter into my nice Mercedes taxi, I am thinking this will be a nice break from the usual taxi services.  So everything is going fine - no meaningless conversation with the driver, just me looking out the window admiring the outskirts of the city.  I had even entertained the idea of asking for his number so when I needed a taxi, I would have a direct, reliable contact. Ha.

Then about halfway through the ride my focuses shifts to the driver after I peripherally notice a sharp jerk of his arm.  A little startled, I was determined to figure out what had just happened and start noticing that he is a little squeamish.  He keeps shifting in his seat, changing hands on the wheel, touching his face, etc.  I try to ignore this behavior and resume my contentment, but the psych major gets the best of me. and I just flat out intriguing stare at him the rest of the trip. 

I never quite figured out what his deal was except that he was either a super nervous dude in which case he might want to rethink his career choice OR he was just really hyper active and could not control his movements.  BUT the tip of the gross out scale came when he started plucking his ear hair.  Yes, the little fuzz that grows in and around your human wings, usually announcing the beginning of your ‘over the hill’ era when visible without a magnifying glass.

Overall, the guy wasn’t too hard on the eyes, late 40s early 50s…probably one of the more normal looking taxi drivers.  But the sight of his fat, stubby fingers with dirt underneath the fingernails reaching for those few hairs sticking out and then suddenly ripping them off just gives me the skeevies.

Gotta love the French.

New Reality Series: The Plane Life

So airplanes are like their own little village.  One could even say they are compatible to Las Vegas’ new CityCenter.  Here is why:

1. You step onto the plane to find your seat and most people are compelled to introduce themselves or acknowledge the person in their closest proximity.  Now call me old-fashioned but this seems to mirror the same friendly behavior of moving into a new neighborhood and taking your neighbor some goodies to introduce yourself and welcome them.

2. On most flights over 45 minutes, food and drink is offered.  This form of ritual imitates the act of going out for a night on the town. On longer flights, 1-2 complete meals may be served to asphyxiate any complaining tummies.  Now whether the tummy ends up complaining afterwards for different reasons remains undisclosed. 

3. All around there is life and activity - People shuffling through the aisles, opening and closing the overhead compartments to find their form of entertainment, jamming out with their headphones, watching movies, reading books, talking, etc. When you stop and look around, there is never a dull moment. 

4. The stewards/esses are always busy maintaining operations.  They can be seen as the parental force that provides for the Family and keeps mayhem from erupting onboard.

5. The pilots act as the governing body.  They make the decisions and keep everyone moving forward.

This aerial world can be be quite complex when given proper attention.  I am going to add finding a way to cause airborne drama to my list of social experiments.  It would be interesting to start relatively innocent drama within a plane and see how people react / what would happen.  I wonder what it would be like to do a reality series on flights – especially the 24+ hour ones.  One could document the interactions between flight attendants because you KNOW they all don’t always get along, the interactions between attendants and passengers, and what the hell the pilots do the whole time that they are in the cockpit.  You know they just put it on Auto-Pilot, so what DO they DO for those 7-8 hours besides overshoot their destinations by 150 miles???

Hey, I’m just keeping it real from 35,000 ft in the air :)

Dooooooominoes

So my line of work entails playing with dominoes from time to time.   As I was building my circle I started thinking about how dominoes are totally awesome and people should do them more often.  But more so, as dominoes have been on my brain recently because I also saw some clips of a huge dominoes tournament on TV the other day – which was super BA and amazing to watch, how you can learn valuable lessons from dominoes.

Ok in this ever so embarrassing fault at least I know that I’m not the only one.  I just have to put it out there and hope no one will judge me too harshly. But I admit that it takes me multiple times before I successfully have all the dominoes and place and ready to begin.  Along the way it is usually inevitable that my hand brushes a piece and then its over. The other day when I was trying to make my circle, I must have knocked it over at least 7 or 8 times and it was always conveniently towards the end. yes i admit that there is something wrong w/ a 24 yr old ineptness at placing small wooden blocks in a straight line centimeters apart. ugh.

But I couldn’t stop. I had this irrational desire to get it right no matter how many times i knocked it over. It was about persistence, perfection, and patience. All of which I clearly suck at doing.  After my dexterity and spatial functioning hit a level inferior to that of a 3 yr old, I finally had my rainbow-colored strip of entertainment in place.

Et voila! They all came tumbling d….o….w….n….

2009 Release

So I find it fitting that the release of a wine happens to fall on my birthday :) It’s a sign that Bacchus is indeed my friend and favorite deity. 

This year’s harvest of Nouveau Beaujolais became available to the public on November 19th.  What could be a better way to celebrate a birthday than with bottle in hand?

I did indeed imbibe a glass of Nouveau Beaujolais 2009 and must say that it was surprisingly tasty.  I’m not a huge Beaujolais fan but I think the temperature was just right and the freshness of the wine added to the deliciousness. 

Here is an article I found with a little bit of information on this sacred day in Paris.  Cafes, restaurants, supermarkets all had banners and signs up proclaiming the arrival of the NB. However, there is a behind-the-scenes race to be the absolute first to obtain the wine and try it out…Some wine shops in the States got their NB the first of the week…so yes, my friends, corruption exists even in the land of drunks where people are supposed to be too intoxicated to A. care or B. able to do anything about it….

It is interesting though to witness how wine takes on the personality more of high-end retail than just a simple fermented beverage; it’s like the new ‘must-have’ item. Imagine a black market for freshly bottled spring water.