bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Paris and Belgium, Perfect Together Ahhh Paris�. I�m sitting in my hotel room with the window open, listening to the gentle rumble of activity on the street below. There is the buzz of scooters that you only hear in Europe. There are the whispers of young French lovers, walking hand in hand down the cobblestone street. Perhaps they are discussing plans for their upcoming nuptials in the spring. Maybe they are discussing how they will sneak away and partake in an afternoon tryst as they share their love for each other. Maybe they are plotting the murder of her mother-in-law. Shit if I know. I don�t speak French. The only reason I have the window open on this freezing day is because of the stupid Radio Shack guy in New Jersey who sold me the friggin power converter that I had plugged into my laptop. Operative word: HAD. I was doing some work on my laptop with it plugged into the power converter from our friendly Radio Shack bastard. Since I just got in from my flight, I�m a bit tired and am laying in bed working on my project for school. I nod off about 3 minutes and 46 seconds into working. Approximately 2 minutes and 55 seconds later�. POP!(However loud you�re thinking, double it) Fizzzzzzzzzzz. Smoke. You never wake up any quicker than when those three things are involved. (Loud noise. Disturbing noise. Smoke) No sooner had I unplugged my highly reliable Radio Shack product than the refreshingly pungent odor of frying circuits hits me full-force. Pony that bitch up with the healthy deuce I dropped on the Parisian plumbing before I started working on my laptop and you can see why the window is open when the temperature is about 3 degrees C outside. (Conversion: 1.4 times Celsius plus 32 = quite nipply cold.) Oh yeah�. Mr. Radio Shack dude� One other thing. Do you remember that $8.00 adaptor set that you sold me that should �work like a charm� with my laptop if the power converter didn�t work? Ahhhhh yeah. Not so much. Maybe it would work if I could plug that bitch in. I guess since I have a Dell, I�m SOL because your adaptor thingy is not compatible with my OEM Dell parts. Frigging Radio Shack. Friggin Dell. Getting rid of hazardous burning fumes and hazardous stinky fumes by freezing my ganoots off with the window open. Priceless. Traveling is soooo glamorous sometimes. �����������.. Seriously, how are Americans the fat ones? I mean, all we have is the deep-fried McDonald�s crap. How in the hell did Brussels, Belgium get named after those awful sprouts? Really? I mean, couldn�t they have gone with Waffles, Belgium? Or Chocolate, Belgium? I really think that there should be a referendum to change the name from Brussels. It doesn�t give the waffles and chocolate its� fair due. If Europe wanted to take over the United States, they should forget about Weapons of Mass Destruction. That would just piss us off. They should load the warheads of missiles with Belgian Chocolate, Belgian Waffles and just about anything made by a French Chef. When I was in Paris, I decided to venture out away from my hotel for dinner (shocking!) and just kind of popped into a restaurant that looked halfway decent with some people in it. I had my little French-English translation book in my hand and, darnit, I was going out for some fine French cuisine and ain�t know body going to stop me. So, I�m looking over the menu using my handy-dandy book as a translator to figure out just what I should order. The waiter comes by to take my order and I tell him what I want in my best pinched-nose French accent. I�m sure I sounded like the ridiculous American that I am, but I think that the effort is appreciated, no matter how awful it is. So, I place my order for what I think is pork and I�m waiting happily sipping my glass of wine. Then the waiter comes with my dinner. Man, I know that pork is the other white meat and all, but that sure looks a little white to be pork. I mean with my fluency in French, I�m sure I ordered correctly. Now, let me tell you, I hate seafood. Doesn�t really matter what kind of seafood it is� My saying is, �Throw it back.� So, I go to cut my pork and I�m all, �Gee-whilikers, that sure is some tender pork. If I wasn�t so confident in my French, I�d swear that was one of them there fishes all cooked up purty.� (Somehow I turned into Gomer Pyle) Here�s the point� It doesn�t matter if it is lobster, shrimp, ill-tempered sea bass or chocolate crusted-chocolate snapper. If it�s seafood, I don�t like it. This fish, however, was awesome. That�s how good these French chefs are. I inadvertently ordered something I hate, from a restaurant that I�m pretty sure was not well known for its food, and I loved it. The sauces that it was cooked in were so delicious, it could have been canine flatulence au flamb� and I wouldn�t have minded. It came served over a bed of asparagus, which is also something that I don�t particularly enjoy (except for the pee-smell-thing, which is mucho fun) and I ate every last stalk, if that�s what you call them. I think the waiter thought it was a little tacky when I picked up the plate and proceeded with licking every last bit of juice, but I don�t care. That shite was gooo-oooo-ooood. And do I even have to mention how good the crepe with Nutella was later on? I didn�t think so. Some of you may be asking what Nutella is and I�ll tell you. It is this wondrous Chocolatey-nutty spread that I think was created from leftovers from the Last Supper, because that stuff is DE-VINE. I�ve only seen it a few times in the United States. I don�t know how this stuff isn�t taking over the US yet. I would seriously hate to see what would happen to the waist lines of Americans if we ever were invaded by European chefs (except for British and Irish chefs, who make some awful food. There�s a reason that the British Isles are infamous for their bad food. Because it�s bad. Shepard�s Pie? Really? That�s what you�ve got? Blech) ����������� Paris is awesome. I think the city gets a bad rap for people being unfriendly kind of unfairly. I�ve found that if I make an effort to speak French and then come clean that I�m a total idiot and ask them if they, �Parlez Vous Enlish?� I get a much better response. I think you�ve got to understand where the French are coming from� They were once one of the most powerful nations in the world and have a very strong heritage and culture. Paris is also the most frequented tourist city in the world, so the Parisian especially can get a little annoyed with rude Americans who either simply walk up and begin speaking English or are simply asked, �Do you speak English?� I�ve even found that they will be more accommodating if you simply ask, �Parlez Vous English?� right off the bat, instead of simply walking up and assuming that they are there to help you. That�s enough of my rant on the French. Go there. Be polite. At least try to speak French. Eat their food. Fall in love with Paris. ����������� And that whole thing about the French being romantic? It�s totally true. Whether it is walking hand in hand or with their arms around each other or whether they are making out against a wall, the French are just much more affectionate than Americans. This is why, despite their high unemployment rates, they are a much happier people than people are in the United States. They seem to value the relationships with each other more than Americans to. And they show boobs on the cover of magazines, which never hurts. 5:37 p.m. - 2004-12-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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