The recap of my trip to France. As it is extremely likely that it will become long, tedious, and boring, I will invoke the "this is for my own records" excuse.So...
Thursday, March 9.
I got to LaGuardia well ahead of time, and discovered half an hour before boarding that my flight was delayed. Then cancelled. This was unfortunate, since I had a connecting flight in DC and only had an hour to spare as it was. So after a long, complicated struggle, I got on a flight to DC leaving about 20 minutes later than my original flight. Of course, it didn't take of for over an hour. I arrived in DC around 5:50pm, just in time to see flight 914, my flight, leaving for Paris. I checked with United, and there was a flight at 9:50. Of course, it was booked, so they booked me on an Air France flight for the next day. No fucking way. On the verge of tears, I trekked over to the gate and begged and pleaded to get on the flight. Rodzilla was meeting me at Charles de Gaulle at 8am, and there was no way I would be there before noon. So that had me worried as well. Around 9:35, I finally got my ticket. As a bonus, i had about the only empty seat on the plane next to me.
I hadn't flown in six years, and I'm still somewhat amazed by the concept of flight. While I was in the can, 30,000 feet over the Atlantic, I thought to myself "I'll bet that none of the people who ever worked on the idea of human flight never thought "Someday, man will be able to pee 30,000 feet over the Atlantic." Just a little bonus, I suppose. I wonder how flights would be arranged if somehow the pressure of altitude or other circumstances of flying made the human bladder shut down.
Friday, March 10.
I landed in Paris around 11:30 am, France time. The French don't stamp your passport when you arrive in their country. That bothered me a bit. Mine is completely bare. Anyhow, I was fairly convinced that, after missing both of my flights, that my luggage was either in DC or New York. But certainly not in Paris. Miraculously, after waiting about half an hour at the conveyor belt, there it was. Huzzah! Anyhow, I found Rodzilla, who was patiently and obediently waiting outside the gate. A quick hug, and off to Paris.
We took a bus to that big Arc thingy. I was going to take a picture, but decided against it for some odd reason. We were staying in Paris for two days, and staying at the apartment of the father of a friend of hers. We dropped out stuff off and left, since he wasn't leaving till that evening. The area, La Defense, was extrememly depressing, and I was hoping the rest of Paris didn't resemble it even remotely. It was obviously constructed in the late 60s and early 70s, and the architecture and cloudy sky had a horribly oppressing effect. We got outta there quick.
I was tired, and not wanting anything new or exciting at that moment, so she took me to this American Restuarant, Chesterfield's, in Paris, where she would hang out when she lived there in early 1998. It was interesting to see what their idea of an "American" restaurant looked like. It was pretty close. You know, standard things like stop lights and other outdoor signs indoors, MTV on the big TVs, nachos, buffalo wings, etc. It was weird to see these English food names, then French descriptions. I'm too used to having it the other way around. I felt extremely uncomfortable. it was the first time i was ever somewhere where I didn't speak a lick of the language. They all spoke English, but somehow that seemed rude to me. So i let Rodzilla do all the talking. Throughout the trip, anytime someone spoke to me, I either immediately looked at Rodzilla or just mumbled some sort of nonsense and ran away. Anyhow, the food was a bit too raw for my taste. And expensive. The most interesting thing to me was one of the bartenders there. Rodzilla was shocked to this guy still there after two years. She said he was from an island country that "disappeared because it went under water." I knew immediately that I'd be writing down that phrase at some future point. I found that quite amusing. Ha!
So she tried to show me some of Paris. I was utterly exhausted, having stayed up all night the night before finishing my papers, but I didn't want to ruin the day. But after a while, it just got too much, and I couldn't walk anymore. So i suggessted we just hop on a bus and sit down and see where it took us. She refused, but after I started lying down on benches ever 30 feet or so, she agreed. She seemed more annoyed once we were actually on the bus, since I was making horrible efforts to stay awake. Finally, she screamed "just go to sleep!" So I did. the bus was empty. When I awoke, the bus was full, and Rodzilla was laughing maniacally. She often breaks into horrible fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the more she tries to stop the worse it gets. Anyhow, this worried me, because obviously she wouldn't be laughing so overtly if she were laughing at a stranger. So she was laughing at me. I hate sleeping in public, because I'm afraid I'm snoring or drooling or touching myself or something. Apparently, i was leaning to my side, and was very close to nuzzling the shoulder of the French man sitting next to me. He just kept looking at me, smiling, then looked over to Rodzilla, who just kept apologizing. By then everyone in the back of the giant bus was laughing at me, so I pretended to be asleep. My whole time in France, everytime someone spoke to me and I didn't understand, i was just to say reply "I'm Chinese!" I wish I'd thought of that on the bus.
Finally, we went back to the apartment. I had been awake for about 30 hours by this point, so I showered and went right to bed. Before that, i gave her the camera I had bought her over eBay. I told her I was giving her something, but didn't say what. The day before she said "I hope you didn't get me a camera." That pissed me off. So at first I only presented her with the lens. It was a little, cheap lens, and I told her that she could save it in case she ever got another camera. I then listened to her tell all sorts of little lies about how happy she was with it and what a sweet gesture it was. that amused me. So I got much more genuine thank you when I gave her the rest of it. I gotta say, it's a pretty sweet camera, and I really didn't want to part with it. Anyway, the place was nice, but hot and dry, and I slept uncomfortably. I can't rest well when I wake up in the middle of the night and don't know what time it is. I wonder why that is.
Saturday, March 11.
I rolled outta bed around noonish, then we went shopping for food. At the bakery, while Elizabeth was buying a bagette, another attendant at the counter greeted me with a "may i help you?" "bonjour!" utterly confused, I quickly mumbled, "Uh...no..." and ran away. by the way, every time I saw a French person with a bagette for the first few days, for some reason I couldn't help but laugh uproariously. It's the same thing that happens whenever my British roommate Joanna says something very British, like "... and then we went out for fish and chips." kills me.
So we saw some sights in Paris. Notre Dame, the Hotel de Ville, etc. For some reason, I wasn't very awed by them. Usually I am. I think living in New York has made me less awed by things I've seen in books and on TV. Not that I wasn't enjoying it. So I saw her old school, walked down a market street, and then we sat in a cafe and had a coffee and a beer. I wrote a postcard to my parents and one to Jed, and soaked up the scene. That was pretty much typical of my time in France. Spending hours with Rodzilla eating and drinking and sitting in cafes. Granted, that wasn't reality, but man, it's the fucking life.
Me, in the cafe sipping a Kronenbourg beer. Yes, I sip. Occasionaly though, I will gulp, chug, throw back, or simply drink a beer.
Rodzilla, same cafe, doing something or the other. She don't like this picture.
So we walked down to find a joint to eat. On the way, I ran into a a little stretch of street that featured not one, not two, but three accordian shops. Seeing as I can't remember ever seeing one accordian shop, that seemed somewhat noteworthy. So i took a picture. Something else particularly French that I noticed that day, in the supermarket was the junkfood. There wasn't a lot of it, which wasn't surprising. What was surprising was the nature of the junk food. The only flavor of Pringles there was Paprika. I was under the impression that paprika had no real flavor, and was a pretty weak seasoning. Certainly not worthy of flavoring a potato chip. Maybe a deviled egg. Anyway, they tasted pretty much like BBQ. I guess the French are a little too uppity to name a food after a flavor that sounds like it's spelled.
Eventually, we ended up under the Louvre. By subway. The Paris subway is very nice. the newer cars are largely windows, and the ride is surprisingly smooth. It's pretty new. Unlike NY's. The problem with being one of the firsts to have something, is that it generally is never the best. But I found it odd that you have to open the doors yourself on a lot of the cars. And buses for that matter. They're always looking for some way to save a joule or watt here or there. Another thing I noticed was that the windows and bus stop shelters were made of actualy glass, not plexi-glass. That'd last about 2 hours in New York, if that.
Anyway, the Louvre seemed nice, at least the outside. I'd seen pictures of that pyramid outside, and I was pleased to see it in person. we sat around for a bit, then found a place to eat. I was very tempted to buy lighter for Jed. It was a pair of long legs and ass, and on the hotpants on the ass it said "Paris!" For some odd reason, i didn't. I was also looking for one of those Eiffel Towers that collapses and straightens when you press a button, but to know avail. Rodzilla asked one women, and she thought she was talking about the Leaning Tower of Piza. Anyhow, dinner was lovely.
At about 3 in the morning that night, Rodzilla told me that she was thinking of starting to be more catholic. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I was fairly diplomatic about it. For a while. Eventually, all shoddy pretenses fell and i just said "please don't." Then she lost it. She proceeded to rail into me on my selfishness, etc. So that quickly escalated into a big argument that took some time to resolve. But i think it was actually quite constructive.There's a girl on the pay phone outside the office saying "Daddy, I just want my puppy back."
Someone found my "Bazaar page" through this search. I always find these things amusing.
This is getting tedious. But for the sake of my own future reference...
Sunday, March 12.
Took the TGV highspeed train from Paris to Bordeaux. A very fast but smooth ride through the French countryside. I enjoy riding around places with Rodzilla. We don't often get to do that, travel together. It's relaxing and just kind of fun. Even when we do, it's usually me driving, so I can't really relax. Anyhow, we arrived Bordeaux around 7. Dragged my big ass suitcase through the cobble stone streets to Rodzilla's apartment. It's a very nice little apartment. The two main parts, the kitchen and living room, are each painted a different color. The kitchen is a bright turquoise, and the living room a bright orange. It looks like the Miami Dolphins locker room. But it's really nice. That night, I walked around the quiet streets. In NY, i sometimes get a little nervous walking around late at night, for fear of being mugged. Over in Europe, I found myself more than once experiencing an odd fear of vampires. It was a good vampire setting. quiet, dark, narrow streets. So that was a weird feeling to have. I met Rodzilla's roommate. I pleasant girl named Andrea. or Drea as they call her. She's from NY, on Long Island, just outside of Queens. She seemed agreeable enough.
That's it for now. much work to be done. Continued tomorrow. If you're interested and have made it this far. Gracias