So I'd like to finish documenting this trip to France already..
Next up,
Tuesday, March 14.
More exploring of Bordeaux. Walked to the Grand Theatre, than the Rue du St. Catherine, which is the longest pedestrian shopping street in Europe. Good to know. Walked over to the Plaza Parliament, and sat in a cafe drinking coffee and talking with Rodzilla about various things. She ran out for a minute, and brought me back a tasty little treat called a canele. A vanilla-y little pastry, Tastiness. Anyhow, I really enjoyed just sitting around, maxin' and relaxin'.
So around 6, we headed back. She went to her wine-tasting class, and I just sat around her pad, stone cold chillin. I read a bit of Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, which I'd hoped to finish while there. I'd bought the book months ago, but hadn't had time to start it. It's a nice little apartment. I played some Velvet Underground, read my book, and I was happy as a clam in mud. It didn't even occur to me to miss TV or the internet or my computer. Which are usually such staples in my life. I also wrote a lot in my little black writing book. I wrote more on this trip than I have in months I think. I document everything. It's weird. I just have to remember every little detail. Guess that's why I keep this journal. I also always carry a camera whenever I go anywhere too. I need recorded histories. Anyway, after a bit or reading, writing, and arithmetic, I cooked dinner for Rodzilla and her roommate Andrea. Curry chicken. the chicken wasn't so hot, but the rest was delish.
In the evening, Rodzilla and I trekked out to a bar to meet her two friends. The bar was also at the Plaza du Parliament, where we'd been that afternoon. It was called, and still is called, the Comtesse. That's countess to you and me. There we met Jason, an American from Oregon I think, or Washington, and Joanna, a brit. they were both also teaching English. they seemed friendly enough. I'm always shy around new people, and being somewhere where I didn't speak the language didn't help me feel any more comfortable. So I clammed up for most of the time I was there. I tried talking, like explaining things I found particularly French, but I think they just thought I was a big fucking idiot. Oh well. The bar itself was pretty nice. Euro-pretentious as described by Rodzilla. It was really the ambient techno that clinched the effect. So we had a few what tasted like Belgian beers, and made a hasty, full-bladdered walk back to her apartment.
Wednesday, March 15.
I actually got out of bed with Rodzilla, and had breakfast with her and her roommate. They eat a lot of yogurt. I myself have no particular love for plain yogurt, but it was being forced upon me. Rodzilla thinks I have a horrible diet, that all I eat is processed junk food. that's not really true, but she forces these natural foods and multi-vitamin pills on me all the time. I suppose I should just be happy that someone cares. Anyhow, to make it tolerable, I loaded up the yogurt with heaping amounts of strawberry jam. Now there's a food I can get behind.
I chatted with Andrea briefly. I was making a concerted effort to get along with her, which wasn't tough at all. Quite a nice girl. But she'd make these little conversational turns that caught me off guard, like she'd say something and I'd say something like, "Hmmm... that's interesting," just to , you know, fill the awkward silence. But then she'd go "What's interesting?" which no one ever does. So I had to scramble to identify something interesting about what she just said, whether I was paying attention or not. I got a bad attention span. But anyway, yeah, she's aight. I'm trying to get along with her, because I have a horrible track record with Rodzilla's friends to date. I'm not too fond of them, and I make a really poor attempt at hiding that. I don't hate them, I'm just rather indifferent.
Anyway, after that so-so conversation, retreated back to the bed, and read more of my Vonnegut. I was really into it. An enjoyable book. So Drea left after a while, and I didn't want Rodzilla to think that I'd spent the whole morning in bed, so at around 12:50 I left the apartment. She was due back around 1. I took a circumspect route over to the Jardin Publique, weaving through back streets, for fear I'd run into her on her way back from class. I don't know why I didn't want to run into her. I suppose I wanted to preserve the illusion that I'd been out early getting many things accomplished. So i sat around in the park and read my book for about 20 minutes. I love that park. It's got a little stream running through it. Actually, i think it's more of a moat. Anyhow, I returned to the apartment and had several light lunch items prepared by Rodzilla. She kept making a point of how light and healthy it was. But there were so many light and healthy things that it soon became quite heavy. So, feeling quite heavy, after some ill-advised lunch time wine, we took a little nap. It was a nice afternoon for a nap. The large European windows were open, the sun was illuminating the yellow room nicely, and it was a nice 60 degrees out. I don't know if I even saw one cloud while I was in Bordeaux.
We slept later than we'd thought. Rodzilla, it turns out, is a drooler when she sleeps. I found that refreshing. I didn't want to be the only one. In all fairness, it was really dry there. I was watching her while she slept, and it struck me as really funny how different someone looks when they're asleep when you can see their teeth from when you can't. looking at her from slightly above her forehead, she just looked really sweet, lying there asleep. But when I looked from around her chin, I could see her teeth, and she looked hilariously goofy. So for about a minute I bobbed back and forth between the two views, having a hearty chuckle now and then.
Anyway, we were humoring a notion of going to see this Mahler concert at the Grande Theatre, but we slept till 3. So we headed over toward the Cathedral du St. Andre instead. We sat outside a cafe, had a ear tart, drank some coffee, and chatted. it ended up quite a serious talk. Long-term stuff. I never really seriously thought about it in those terms. I doubted she did at all. But i guess she does. There are certain things about me and my behavior that I guess worry her. Not terribly seriously, but just causes some concern. That was a but troubling, but I was more struck by the fact that she's thinking in long-term scenarios. I mean, I think about it all the time, but never really seriously. I suppose that's because I didn't think she did.
Jen told me the other day that Jed and her were talking, and they were absolutely positive that out of all of our friends, Matt and James and me, Jen, and Jed, that they thought I'd be the first to get married. I hope that's not the case. I don't know why, but I don't want to be the first. that's way off there in the future, after I grow up.Anywho, Rodzilla wanted to take me out for a real French dinner. You order from the menu. Which seemed obvious enough. But my petty bourgeois American brain didn't know what that meant. You just pick from a set of menus set at different prices, and you have like 4 courses, and you pick from about 3 or 4 different foods at each stage. I'm terribly indecive, so having my choices limited seemed like a good idea. Anyhow, Rodzilla got all gussied up for the occasion. She looked fantabulous, if I do say so. I myself opted for the Euro-Asin chic, and dressed pretty much in all black. I felt kind of weird in public, because it's a level of pretentiousness I've mocked in the past and rarely visit. But I suppose I pulled it off better over there. We dilly-dallied till about 9:30, so by the time we got to the restaurant we wanted to eat at, it was closed. Rodzilla took the blame for that one. So at least now i get another point over her. It's all about the points you know. But we found an acceptable place, had a lovely dinner, and took a cab home. Her roommate stayed with a friend, so for once I didn't have to tiptoe around when we got back. A good night.
Rodzilla, gussied up a bit for a night out.
Hey! She cleans up real good, don't she?
Thursday, March 16.
I had hoped to go down to Spain while in SW France, but that fell through. So instead we opted to go to Sarlat, a little town to the east, where Rodzilla said it was quite medieval and quaint. Sounded good to me. So we got there around 1 pm on the train. It was a weird place. Of course, we spent more than half our time there eating. We got there, walked around, had lunch, walked around some of the 16th century architecture for a while, and found a cafe and sat down for the rest of the time. Typical. It was nice thought. Bright and sunny, as usual. I found myself thinking that it'd be a cooler place if the town had like a dirty little secret, like an ancient secret shame or something. Like a monster that they keep hidden somewhere, and once every blue moon they must make a sacrifice to it. I was thinking this because on one of the churches, one of the sides has these giant white doors that must be 70 feet hight, almost the entire height of the church. I couldn't imagine why you needed such big doors. So I naturally assumed they were used to get some monster in and out. But I thought it'd be cooler if they kept the monster in a pit. I thought "The Pit of Sarlat" had a nice ring to it.
On the train ride back we bumped into another of Rodzilla's students. We saw one the night before also. Thankfully this time, I didn't have to t do the kiss-kiss greeting. I'm not a fan of that. it's fine, but I execute it awkwardly. Anyway, i just did my "I'm Chinese" smile, and kept reading my book. I managed to finish up Breakfast of Champions on the way back. I quite liked it. the end was a little much though. Not a lot of plot for the last 3rd of the book, just kind of a weird narrative. That's what i didn't really like about his book Timequake. i liked it though, but that just seemed odd. But overall, I really like Breakfast of Champions. I don't think I liked it better than Cat's Cradle, which I really couldn't put down, but this one was a little more fun to read.
After getting back, we went to Macdonalds so I could experience that, then went to see a movie. The only thing playing in English at the time we were there was "flawless," that movie with Robert DeNiro and Philip Seymour Hoffman. It was ok. it was interesting to see how the French subtitles expressed American expressions. When a drag-queen said "Look, it's America's Least Wanted," the subtutle said, "look, it's Liz Taylor." Fucking French.