RT Europe Trip

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Today's post is brought to you by Mysterious Guest Blogger (MGB).

Rachel and I are currently in Germany, the land of wurst (sausages), sauerkraut and beer. While Germans like sausages and don't have particular devotion to sauerkraut that I have seen, they really have a strong relationship to beer, the same way Italians have a relationship to pasta and Brits to boiling or broiling everything to death. As an example, at the airport there is a sign explaining what is legal to bring into the country. Liquor with alcohol content over 22% - 1 liter (sounds reasonable). Spirits such as wine and sake – 2 liters (maybe a little light but generally reasonable). Beer – based on previous two, the safe assumption is that 4 or 5 litters would be allowed. Nope. You can legally bring 16 liters into the country. 4 gallons! On flights to Germany, I now expect to see people carrying pony kegs with them.

Rachel raved about white asparagus soup she had for lunch. While it was probably tasty, I think it was the fact she was starving that made it taste so good. Which brings me to the lesson of the day: if you want Rachel to like your food, make sure she doesn't eat 12 hours before.

- MGB

Ed. Note: I really f-ing loved that soup. 

MGB note: I really disapprove of the use of profanity.

Around Town

I could seriously live in London. Maybe I'll just stay here on Birkbeck Rd with Aoibh and Sam forver, wait for my bf to join me. (Pause 2 minutes for my mom to Google Maps search the address and Street View it.) Having an amazing time with my two favorite Irish people in the world-- they're riotously funny. Tonight we're going to THE PUB. And I will feed Aoibh enough booze until she sings HER SONG. (Apparently, Irish people really do break out into song at social gatherings, just like in THE MOVIES.)

I walked around Brick Lane and Spitalfields yesterday. Brick Lane is cool, lots of curry houses and small boutiques and cool graffiti. Ate lunch at a curry house (that's what they call Indian food) that HRH Prince Charles ate at once. I had lamb naga with naan, it was very good. I also had pickled lime chutney for the first time. For some reason I liked it, even though it was like sweet and sour cleaning fluid. The restaurant was empty; Sam said curry is a dinner food, not really a lunch food in London. Shoot, I would eat it at all three meals if I could! 

I saw bank ads with characters from Little Britain, which I found immensely amusing. I hung around Trafalgar square and went to the National Portrait Gallery, which was very lovely. I got other tourists to take my picture, including a snapshot I like to call "Awkward Legs." 

I went to Picadilly circus, and Saville Row. Men in London all wear these very nice suits-- very tailored, with flat front pants a little long in the rise, a little short at the hem, and really interesting tie/shirt combos. The shops were closed when I got there, but I looked in the windows for inspiration (for the bf). Except everyone is showing suits with puckered stitching on the edges, and neither I nor the bf like that. 

And, delight of delights, I had lunch with an elementary school friend whose family came to LA in the 90's, and I haven't seen her in 13 years. We each turned into the women we were meant to be, it's unsettling. I have, in general, the same personality as I did at 9 years old, and so does she. At least I'm a little more generous and empathetic than before, but Elle can tell you, I had a sassy big mouth then, and now. Elle is a London fashion plate, and still incredibly sweet, big-hearted, and funny. Btw, everyone from Paris to London enjoys hearing about the bf, and several European ladies have said he's quite hot. (You can judge for yourself starting tomorrow.)

ps. Don't tell the bf what he's getting from London!

London

Now finishing my backlog of posts from the start of my trip. 

Staying with Aoibhéann, my Irish friend from Avignon, and her bf, Sam, also Irish, in London. My brain is freaked out-- it knows it's in a foreign land, and keeps trying to translate what people say from French to English, but it's already in English. The start of every sentence I overheard on the bus was immensely confusing. I bought an Oyster card, the London transport ticket card, so I feel very in-the-know. I was on the bus, and it stopped by this girls' school, and all these black teen girls (Carribean origin?) got on in their uniforms-- white, polyester shirts, pants or skirts, purple and navy striped ties. They were just like bands of teens back home-- loud, playing music on their cells, singing and chanting at the chorus, gasping and yelling when the bus passed cute teen boys on the street. It must be the last day of school, because they had all written all over each other's school uniform shirts. "Jenny, you slag! <3 you!"

Aoibhéann (pronounced "Aiving," Irish for "beautiful patina") and Sam are both actors and really cool and hilarious. Those Irish! Sam treated us like ladies-- made us hummus toasts, and let us catch-up while he made DELICIOUS chickpea curry. I like it when they do exaggerated Donnegal accents to tease each other. 

Per request, picture of bruise after the jump. NSFYS: Not safe for your stomach. The color is actually not that bad, it's just really big. (TWSS)

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Marseille

Stayed with another old roommate, Marine, and her bf, Pierre Ortega (maybe my brother?) in Marseille. Marseille is electric and dirty, I've always felt that way. Marine and Pierre live behind Notre Dame de la Garde, tucked away in a quiet little neighborhood I didn't know existed in Marseille. (Notre Dame de la Garde is a golden statue of the Madonna, high atop a hill, and no one is allowed to develop higher than the statue; she protects and watches over the city.) They also have a beautiful view. Seems like everyone has a beautiful view nowadays (in my guest house, I have a view of the zen jacuzzi (nice) and the neighbor's junkyard (gross)).

We walked way up hill then way down hill to get to the beach highway. We walked along the road above the beach, it was beautiful. There were lots of people running, sweating a lot. I always find it surprising when the French voluntarily sweat buckets. But it exists now, "faire du sport." It's only a matter of time until some Frenchwoman ruins her manicure in kettlebell class. 

The Lunch

Had lunch with my ex's parents, who are very dear to me. The food was the usual suspects that I adore. Salad with smoked duck breast and soft-boiled eggs, pommes dauphines (fried potato and choux pastry balls-- didn't finish the last 3, and as I knew I would be, at this moment I am hungry and wish I had eaten them, even if it meant vomiting from "avoir trop mangé") roast chicken (from a very nice chicken with actual flavor), and strawberry tarte (hand- and homemade, of course). 

Of course, there was champagne and two types of wine, and the California napkins that my mom gave me years ago to give to my then-boyfriend's mom. 

More Avignon

Saw my old roommates, Jeremy and Marine (on the armchair together). You know, when I lived in Avignon, it was really this amazing experience with very genuine, real, kind people (French, and otherwise). We went with some other friends (and Marine's new BF, Pierre Ortega, who may be my brother, according to certain Spanish TV stations) to a vintage-styled resto à tartines. There was a very French-looking meat and cheese board involved. 

Walked around Villeneuve the next day with the friend I stayed with. Villeneuve is across the river from Avignon. It's architecturally another medieval village, culturally, it's the rich suburbs. Had some great views that a point-and-shoot camera don't capture. 

Avignon/Ardeche

I banged my shin against a river rock in the "camping sauvage." I have large, technicolor-dreamcoat bruise. 

Stayed with an American friend with her husband, dog, roommate, and our other friend from my Avignon days who also happened to be visiting. Camping meant grilled merguez, freezing river water, and sleeping like a rock in Ardeche. 
Also, Peñas Festival? Say it fast. Get it? Get it?

More Paris

I caught up with a high school friend on the banks of the seine-- we split a bottle of wine we had bought from a "caviste" 2 blocks from Notre Dame.

(almost) Two Days in Paris

I forgot how fascinating Paris is. The metro smells like fermented urine with high hay notes. People are wearing thong sandals more, but the dress is still pretty formal-- Parisians wear outfits, not clothes. Lots of Arab, Turkish, and North African immigrants. People really do hang around cafes, having coffee or coca-cola with friends. I nearly pissed my pants with intense desire for whatever they were selling in every chic/authentic/cute/modern/baazar-esque shop window. There is no branding in the world that I aspire more to than "authentic French délices" branding. 

Am unable to buy the cured meats and brightly-packaged cosmetics that I want so badly, because I'm going to London on Ryanair from France, and they have like, a 5 pound checked baggage limit, or something ridiculous like that. 

Le Grenier is officially (according to who?) the best bakery in Paris. It's down the street from my friend's place. I also went to Pompidou, met up with a high school friend, went to yoga, saw my old host mother, and generally was overwhelmed with Paris. 

 

Welcome

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View from Marie's apartment in Montmartre.