Hello dearly beloved,
This will hopefully be kept a bit more concise, as things are sort of busy at the moment. I'm gearing up for supertrip 2008-09, which will be my first trip spanning two different years. I'm sure I've described this already on here, but what's the harm in a little redundancy? It's good for the memory, and besides, the trip has been expanded a bit:
Dec 19-22: Visiting Marta in Madrid
22-26: Hanging out with Scott VIII, Kevin XXIII, and Benedict XVI in Rome.
26-30: Damage control in Athens (tentative)...staying alive with Scottistotle and Kevinopoulos
Dec 30-Jan 3: Le Retour a Paris- Touring with Thomas and greeting Robby as he gets off the plane in a new year!
Jan 3-4: The Beginning is the End, in St. Etienne...a revisit/goodbye to Leila before she goes to Brazil
Eighteen days, over 5800 km (3600 miles), 4 planes and 2 trains, crossing the Pyrenees and the Alps twice over, 3 of the 5 largest cities in Europe, capital cities of 4 different countries (If I continue listing useless facts like this, it makes it seem impressive and interesting, yes?). I am extremely excited for this trip...I have seen all of these places but Athens before, but it's moreso seeing the friends that has me pumped. It will be a sweet mixture of time spent with my American and European friends.
We were worried about Athens and riots and whatnot, but I think at the moment things seem good enough there. We'll keep an eye out on the situation, but for now it seems acceptable. Scott promised to come draped in a US flag, and Kevin's tattooed Texas Tech logos all over his face and body, so we should be good. Drink of choice for this party: Molotov cocktail.
Returning to the boring details of everyday life: As it turned out, I once again did not work my reguarly scheduled 12 hours this week. After last week's 7 hour marathon, I followed it up with a hefty time-and-a-half-worthy 5 hour work week. Not my doing, of course. Two teachers weren't going to be there for some of their courses, so I didn't have those. This morning I went to the middle school only to find out that the teacher with whom I was supposed to work 4 hours was not there. Thus, no worky. As I'd seen transpiring in the morning, students at the adjacent high school where I work were in the process of blocking the entrance in protest of next year's reforms, as has become the trend in France over the past week. Way to catch on late, guys. Seeing a few of my students as I left the premises, I made note to tell them that this was a display of laziness. Because I clearly have the right to talk.
The other day, I walked into one of those stores that's a combo department/grocery store, and I was browsing around looking for travel-size toiletries. I, being a rather gauche person, had one of those typical moments that I think a lot of men have in this type of store...where you're strolling, mindlessly looking for deodorant or body wash when suddenly you come to and realize you weren't paying close enough attention, and you have the misfortune of finding yourself in some sort of women's hygiene aisle. Of course, you are the only male in this aisle. After a brief shock-and-stop, if the expression on your face isn't enough, you have to visibly show your discomfort by your body language to let those around you understand the regret caused by your error. After all, what creepster wants to be the one snooping around in these foreign territories of the grocery store?
Shortly after said uncomfortable experience, I was looking at simple, white T-shirts, as made famous by idols of mine such as T.I. and Andy Pasternak. these, of course, are usually located next to the boxers and such. At this point, I was reminded of the discomfort forced upon me and, I am sure other men as well, when even nearing the boxer section...a specific type of clothing aimed at US. If this is the case, why is there always that stupid picture of some dude flexing for all he's worth while wearing nothing but boxers? And idiotically grinning either at the camera or at some "unseen person"? This is not impressing or seducing us, nor is it encouraging us to buy the product. Put some damn clothes on and quit looking like an idiot. Who in the marketing department of Hanes thinks this is a good idea?
Continuing on the topic of unidentifiable people who are no good at everything: I would not trust the French postal service with mailing a postcard...let alone the bank code to access my account on line. Unfortunately, banks in France feel that the latter should be IMPOSSIBLE to obtain in person, thinking it more secure to send this little code through the unreliable mail so that it ends up in the hands of whoever may find it at whatever address it was wrongly sent to. After all, being present in person is not enough to prove that you exist and are the holder of an account. This was a problem last time I was here (when the bank was literally 5 minutes walking from my residence), and after 2 or 3 demands this time, it continues to be a problem. Today, after noticing my account balance was 150 euros lower than expected (surprising because I've been carefully noting my expenditures this month), I asked at the nearest branch to see my account transactions for the past few weeks. Of course, this was unavailable unless I go to the branch at which I started the account, and I can't access it online. I proceeded to express my disgust to a teller at my bank today (Societe Generale) by saying that the French postal service resembled something from a Third World nation. This is, of course, impolite and disrespectful- to the Third World. The irony of this is that La Poste not only serves as the postal service, but also a bank...a mind-boggling conundrum that one must conclude forms the ultimate black hole of lost bank materials.
Finally, I've noticed lately that there are still bits and pieces of the French language that can be difficult to adapt to. For example, when someone offers a "grosse pizza," the natural response is "Ewww, you can keep that one yourself." In reality, however, a large pizza might be nice to share. Other phrases, such as saying "Coucou!" to greet someone, just sound too goofy to be used seriously. Finally, sometimes the blatant use of English words is a bit laughable. I can't help but chuckle when I hear someone refer to a before or after party as a "beforrrhh" or an "afterrhh," and I still find it amusing that they love to say "bon weekend!" and call things "cool" or "top." Yes, we use quite a few French words in English, but their choice of words to use seems to be...less than the best. As a means of amusing oneself, however, it is fun to jokingly use these in daily conversation.
That's all the rant I've got for now..."Concise" got lost along the way, but whatever. It'll probably be at least 18 days before this gets updated again, so I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. In the mean time, I'll be eating some of the "grossest" pizzas you could imagine over the holidays in Italia.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Jettez l'ancre
Salut, hola, hallo, hello, what it is and what it ain't? I apologize for the long span between entries, but, after the uselessness of the last one, and the length of the one before that, we were due for a break, non?
Shoutout today to Dan G., who's turning 22. Also to Mr. Robert Cenzon, turning 23 on Thursday. These are probably my two American friends that I share the most in common with in terms of our France interest(s). As a result of said interest, Mr. Bert will soon be returning to France for quite a while, and we will likely be celebrating the New Year together...but, like, not kissing and stuff at midnight. Probably just singing with French people.
La vie hasn't been that entertaining lately. In the last week or so I briefly entered panic mode about improving my French, but I guess it's coming along more steadily now. The problem is that my forum of expertise within the language (verlan and gros mots) is not (usually) one that can be interspersed with great ease during the course of a normal conversation. I'll just have to learn some technical engineering language. That way, when people talk about things I don't really care about, and they refuse to stop talking in spite of the fact that no one else is participating in the conversation (this happens somewhat frequently in French culture, by the way), I can turn the conversation to an even more boring topic, of which they will have little knowledge. Although I am not there yet, this dawned on me today in, roughly, the following context (translated, of course, for your amusement):
There is a really nice teacher at the high school, but she talks more than anyone I know, and when you're trying to get something done before a class, this can be difficult. Today, the question was posed to me, "Greg, what is your favorite aspect of French literature?"
Well, to be honest, I would like to know about this topic a bit more, but I will readily admit that my knowledge is lacking in American and English literature, let alone that of the French.
"Well, I am not really familiar with French lit."
"Do you like poesie?" (I'm leaving that word untranslated because it's funnier to me for some reason)
"Hmm, probably mathematics."
Game, set, math. Conversation: OVER. One could say I threw a zero into the denominator of that exchange.
In other news, I'm excited for traveling over the Christmas break, during which I'll see Marta in Madrid and then meet my friends Scott and Kevin to see Rome, Athens, and (briefly) Paris. Right now, as you may know, there are some riots taking place in Athens. I have an unfounded certainty that this will be settled before our Dec. 26 arrival. Although this occurrence is somewhat of a scary thought at this date, the bright side could be that we three Dallasites finally get to experience the kind of mayhem and looting that we were too young for during the 1993 Dallas Cowboys championship parade. Nostalgia, no?
On that note, the Cowboys, as is the case with all Dallas franchises, recently provided us with another last-minute, heartbreaking meltdown. This should be expected. In fact, I feel there would be reason for disappointment if this weren't the case. However, always looking on the bright side, there has been a lot of media attention directed lately toward Plaxico Burress's recent shooting of Plaxico Burress in a nightclub. As it turns out, Plaxico Burress has been suspended for the season by his team and could be facing jail time for this act of aggression, and Plaxico Burress had to be rushed to the hospital by Plaxico Burress's teammate. Plaxico Burress was already rehabbing a hamstring problem before this cruel and uncalled-for attack resulted in another minor injury. Athletes these days. I say bright side, by the way, because this story is nothing less than hilarious and awesome, and I've brought it up at least twice to French people.
Recently, I was extremely disappointed to read a rather conciliatory-sounding public statement by Lance Armstrong regarding his return to the Tour, in which he said he would try to support the best rider on the team. This is not the kind of "We're gonna win, baby!" comment I like to hear, but as long as Lance doesn't shoot Lance in the leg, maybe he's got a chance. I was asked last week what I thought about the return. I responded to my French colleague by loosely referencing the words of French swimmer Alain Bernard, who this summer made a statement in reference to the American relay team with Jason Lezak and Michael Phelps saying, "We will explode them. We came here for that." Of course, after the team anchor's stupid statement and historic collapse, I feel the need to bring him up at critical moments (jettez l'ancre, France). This was a critical moment because it was in anticipation of the irritating response that is guaranteed in France regarding Lance: "You want him to win, even if he's doping?" Holding my tongue, I had to explain how he was never found guilty of any doping, and 8 years later some agency decides to start retesting old urine samples that were not found to be problematic before. I don't even like what Lance Armstrong has done in his personal life, but the people here are clearly jealous of his success. Additionally, they ignore what a joke the Tour has become the past few years, with large numbers of riders being expelled from the race for doping. When the topic was extended to American athletes who have been found guilty of doping, and the valor of Americans then questioned, I was tempted to demand whether they thought doping was necessary on our nation's part in helping overcome the Germans in World War 2. In spite of the choice words I wanted to offer, that's not fair to do to them, but it must be pointed out that there are intelligent and stupid athletes (see above) everywhere. Putain.
On a less bitter note, one professor at the high school is not having her courses this week, meaning that my workload has been cut to a more bearable 7 hours. I used some of my free time yesterday to make one of my most exciting purchases in recent memory: 3 euros for 25 of these creme-filled chocolate things that are rather indescribable.
As you may be able to see, some of them have coconut. I just read that coconut oil is likely to be beneficial in the prevention of heart disease. I don't even know what coconut oil by itself is like, but tell me no more. In the ultimate effort to combat heart disease, I could soon begin a diet consisting of no more than coconut oil and red wine. Unless, of course, 8 years later this is going to present problems with my urine samples.
Shoutout today to Dan G., who's turning 22. Also to Mr. Robert Cenzon, turning 23 on Thursday. These are probably my two American friends that I share the most in common with in terms of our France interest(s). As a result of said interest, Mr. Bert will soon be returning to France for quite a while, and we will likely be celebrating the New Year together...but, like, not kissing and stuff at midnight. Probably just singing with French people.
La vie hasn't been that entertaining lately. In the last week or so I briefly entered panic mode about improving my French, but I guess it's coming along more steadily now. The problem is that my forum of expertise within the language (verlan and gros mots) is not (usually) one that can be interspersed with great ease during the course of a normal conversation. I'll just have to learn some technical engineering language. That way, when people talk about things I don't really care about, and they refuse to stop talking in spite of the fact that no one else is participating in the conversation (this happens somewhat frequently in French culture, by the way), I can turn the conversation to an even more boring topic, of which they will have little knowledge. Although I am not there yet, this dawned on me today in, roughly, the following context (translated, of course, for your amusement):
There is a really nice teacher at the high school, but she talks more than anyone I know, and when you're trying to get something done before a class, this can be difficult. Today, the question was posed to me, "Greg, what is your favorite aspect of French literature?"
Well, to be honest, I would like to know about this topic a bit more, but I will readily admit that my knowledge is lacking in American and English literature, let alone that of the French.
"Well, I am not really familiar with French lit."
"Do you like poesie?" (I'm leaving that word untranslated because it's funnier to me for some reason)
"Hmm, probably mathematics."
Game, set, math. Conversation: OVER. One could say I threw a zero into the denominator of that exchange.
In other news, I'm excited for traveling over the Christmas break, during which I'll see Marta in Madrid and then meet my friends Scott and Kevin to see Rome, Athens, and (briefly) Paris. Right now, as you may know, there are some riots taking place in Athens. I have an unfounded certainty that this will be settled before our Dec. 26 arrival. Although this occurrence is somewhat of a scary thought at this date, the bright side could be that we three Dallasites finally get to experience the kind of mayhem and looting that we were too young for during the 1993 Dallas Cowboys championship parade. Nostalgia, no?
On that note, the Cowboys, as is the case with all Dallas franchises, recently provided us with another last-minute, heartbreaking meltdown. This should be expected. In fact, I feel there would be reason for disappointment if this weren't the case. However, always looking on the bright side, there has been a lot of media attention directed lately toward Plaxico Burress's recent shooting of Plaxico Burress in a nightclub. As it turns out, Plaxico Burress has been suspended for the season by his team and could be facing jail time for this act of aggression, and Plaxico Burress had to be rushed to the hospital by Plaxico Burress's teammate. Plaxico Burress was already rehabbing a hamstring problem before this cruel and uncalled-for attack resulted in another minor injury. Athletes these days. I say bright side, by the way, because this story is nothing less than hilarious and awesome, and I've brought it up at least twice to French people.
Recently, I was extremely disappointed to read a rather conciliatory-sounding public statement by Lance Armstrong regarding his return to the Tour, in which he said he would try to support the best rider on the team. This is not the kind of "We're gonna win, baby!" comment I like to hear, but as long as Lance doesn't shoot Lance in the leg, maybe he's got a chance. I was asked last week what I thought about the return. I responded to my French colleague by loosely referencing the words of French swimmer Alain Bernard, who this summer made a statement in reference to the American relay team with Jason Lezak and Michael Phelps saying, "We will explode them. We came here for that." Of course, after the team anchor's stupid statement and historic collapse, I feel the need to bring him up at critical moments (jettez l'ancre, France). This was a critical moment because it was in anticipation of the irritating response that is guaranteed in France regarding Lance: "You want him to win, even if he's doping?" Holding my tongue, I had to explain how he was never found guilty of any doping, and 8 years later some agency decides to start retesting old urine samples that were not found to be problematic before. I don't even like what Lance Armstrong has done in his personal life, but the people here are clearly jealous of his success. Additionally, they ignore what a joke the Tour has become the past few years, with large numbers of riders being expelled from the race for doping. When the topic was extended to American athletes who have been found guilty of doping, and the valor of Americans then questioned, I was tempted to demand whether they thought doping was necessary on our nation's part in helping overcome the Germans in World War 2. In spite of the choice words I wanted to offer, that's not fair to do to them, but it must be pointed out that there are intelligent and stupid athletes (see above) everywhere. Putain.
On a less bitter note, one professor at the high school is not having her courses this week, meaning that my workload has been cut to a more bearable 7 hours. I used some of my free time yesterday to make one of my most exciting purchases in recent memory: 3 euros for 25 of these creme-filled chocolate things that are rather indescribable.
As you may be able to see, some of them have coconut. I just read that coconut oil is likely to be beneficial in the prevention of heart disease. I don't even know what coconut oil by itself is like, but tell me no more. In the ultimate effort to combat heart disease, I could soon begin a diet consisting of no more than coconut oil and red wine. Unless, of course, 8 years later this is going to present problems with my urine samples.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)