Fri, Jul. 21st, 2006, 08:25 pm
Back In Five:
So, Paris is really hot.
There are kids making out everywhere, half-undressed orgies raging through the city. But more importantly, it's thrity five degrees on a good day. We may have broken forty today.
Maybe I'm just being a baby, but I likes me my Canadian weather. I like thirty being really hot and I miss winter so much! Please, next time I bitch about minus thirty, somebody say "Paris!" and I promise I will bake you gingerbread cookies and be happy for the rest of the season.
We decided that the only way we were to have a fighting chance in hell (note: we are in hell. Well, hot as hell, anyways.) would be if we found airco and water. So, we dubbed yesterday "Movies and Swimming Day!" and the Lord smiled down on our plans because we found two right next door to each other. And underground, meaning already we had cooled down mildly. And then we found out that Superman Returns was playing and Garnet pranced and Kyler and I cheered. And we watched the movie. And it was good.
We made our way to the pool and this must be about the time the Lord stopped smiling, or rather his smile was one of vengeance. Why did he want vengeance on us? Perhaps it was because we laughed too loud at that one joke, or because we bought all that popcorn and didn't eat it, but rather used it as ammo in the Popcorn War. I really couldn't say, but I can tell you that the smiles vanished from our faces when we saw that sign in the window. The one telling us that swimming trunks were forbidden, and speedos were mandatory.
I can also tell you that this made its way to number one on the Weird Things We've Seen In Paris list, knocking the slightly more morbid Dead Bird Hanging From A Bridge to number two.
Alas, my friends could not find the European men within and the Hang Out In The Pool Until It Closes At Ten plan failed miserably.
We've been wandering the streets and trying not to melt, secretly wishing we were a little more like Superman, drawing our strength from the sun.
Mon, Jul. 17th, 2006, 06:47 pm
On The Breakup:
Before we get to that, let me first say that I really like signing into german livejournal! Willkommen really makes my day and looking at Mein LJ is something else.
Anyways, a few days ago Kyler, Garnet and I went to see The Breakup, that movie with Rachel from Friends and Ben Stiller's nemesis in Dodgeball. After we came out of the theatre, Ky said "That was entertaining." and Garnet and I looked at each other and he said what was on both of our minds: "Two big thumbs down."
Here are some notes:
-This movie is basically what would happen if you set up hidden cameras in your crazy neighbour´s house right before you made that domestic disturbance call to the cops.
-I don´t enjoy Anniston´s naked back. Dear Jen: please stop taking your clothes off for movies and magazines and the general public. I´ve got some bad news: you´re getting old.
-Vince Vaugh´s face does funny things when he´s angry yelling. He kind of looks like a Romulan.
-I love Jon Favreau a little more every time I see him. This man knows what a good friend is, offering to off the ex´s new man and not taking no for an answer. That´s my kind of brother!
-If I ever have a best friend whose voice is constantly eighteen octaves higher than mine, one of us will inevitably be killed.
-We did eat popcorn from a red and white striped box and play racing games on the PSPs in the lobby afterwards, so I think we came out even in the end.
There's nothing quite like walking down the street in your team's jersey and your fellow fans waving flags and yelling happy things at you.
Europe has turned me into a big sports fan, which is a completely new experience for me.
Here's the low-down, internet: My team is in the World Cup final (notice the term World in there-- really it's all about the Europeans. And maybe Brazil.) and we're going out to a German beer garden tonight to watch the game. I expect yelling. I expect screaming. I expect drunken stupors and kicking chairs and hugging and crying and laughing and kissing strangers.
It's going to be glorious.
ALLEZ LES BLEUS!!!
I am really sorry I missed your big day. I heard you were great, the fireworks better than ever. I'm even more sorry that I made a post on your day boasting all about some other place. Really, you are my one true love even though I treat you so bad sometimes and forget to write you beautiful things on your day.
Coming back soon with arms open.
Love forever and always,
As far as I can tell, what Belgium had to offer was the best chocolates in the world, beer that tasted like fruit, and the most random and bizarre and wonderful buildings and statues. Their pride and joy is this statue of this boy peeing. He's a fountain, actually, some king's son who pissed on a bomb after the war as a show of strength or something. Have I mentioned that I love Brussels?
What Amsterdam has to offer, as far as my limited three hours here has shown me, are canal tours, girls in windows, and lots of hash. And well, for me, family as well. I had the most wonderful time meeting aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins and third cousins once removed and marvelous people that I am slightly related to, although the details are vague. Not only can I revel in the fact that there's this hidden treasure on the other side of the ocean that was just waiting to be discovered, but they're so gosh-darn amazing and I get to call them family. How awesome is that? Plus, this one little second cousin of mine looked totally like my brother, only blonde. Did someone say RAD?
Amsterdam, however, finds me a little lost. To be honest, you're never really lost in Amsterdam, but I can't paddle a boat on my own (unless I'd like to see Amsterdam doing three sixties all day), I'm not interested in going into a coffeeshop and asking for a joint, and I'm a little nervous about getting one of those girls on my own. Also, I don't have any friends I'd really want to buy a present from a sexshop for. Well, maybe a couple, but neither of us would readily admit it.
Don't get me wrong, Amsterdam is wonderful. I haven't even really done anything yet and it's practically my favorite place so far. I was eating ice cream on a bench in the shade and I saw these two guys walk by and do this really complicated secret hand-shake and then I got a sandwich with real gouda cheese and walked along a canal, so I've had pretty much the best day.
Perhaps I'll pay Anne Frank a visit. She's wonderful, I hear, and probably better company than the ones hanging out in the windows.
Sometimes the kilometres between us has nothing to do with how far or close we are.
Miss you terribly.
Me: So how was your flight?
Him: Flight sucked. I felt cramped.
Me: Well, you are somewhat lanky. And the train?
Him: Train sucked.
Me: Aren't we the optimist. I suppose jet lag has been bad, then, too?
Him: No, jet lag's fantastic! I realized something, Courtenay: I've been on Europe time all my life! Now I'm back on track with the world. Last night, at eleven thirty, I started feeling tired. And this morning I got up at seven. It was weird.
This past week has been one of the more exciting ones in La Grande Motte. Firstly, I turned nineteen! Not only that, but it was on the nineteenth, something we like to call a "Champagne Birthday", which obviously meant it had to be celebrated with champagne (and chocolate cake), served on a beach towel in the grass of a modest park, poured into plastic cups. After that, my friend Kyler and I played MASH, which is apparently something that boys did not do as youngsters. Class.
I endured everyone's wrath at the Hotel for not telling them until the day of, but after that wore off we drank more champagne and ate lemon meringue pie.
I got a couple bouquets of flowers, a couple of cards sent overseas, and a couple of phone calls from home. Today I found my inbox full of well-wishes. All in all, a very delightful experience indeed.
And now begins The Countdown until I leave this place for good! In a week's time, I will be in Barcelona accompanied by two fine Canadian gentlemen. So, in an effort to somewhat recap the last three months, I've compiled a short list of what I'll be leaving behind:
Things I Will Miss About La Grande Motte:
-Nutella Crepes: I would describe this to you in detail, but you may start licking the screen, so I'll refrain
-Sunset walks to the lighthouse: There's this wonderful kind of walkway made of stone that stretches out from the city and at the very end is a small lighthouse. It's always windy at the lighthouse, and if you look behind you you can see the entire city, full of shops and hotels and beaches. If you look in front of you you can see vast open sea and an expanse of sky, sometimes pure blue and sometimes gray, always full of potential. Sometimes when I had had enough of all the touristy things in LGM, I would stand and look out for few hours. Something like magic happened out there, something that untied you from everything wrong and put things in their place.
-Fatima, one of the housekeepers at the Hotel, who would bring me cherries from her garden on a regular basis. Not only were they the best damn cherries I've ever had, but they came from the sweetest lady ever. Actually, come to think of it, I'll miss everyone at the Hotel. Ellen, who took me on picnics and gave me armfulls of tourguides when she found out I was travelling for two months. Gisele, who had a razor-sharp wit and the kind of smile that you couldn't help but go along with. Sabine, who always met you with a twinkle in her eye and the softest personality. Anne, one of those powerful women who both stun and intimidate you, full of sass but very kind. M. Beliando, who always took a moment from his day to explain something rich in culture; one of those guys you can tell reads a lot. And the unforgettable Mme. Beliando, who mothered me like nothing else and giggled like a little girl. Somebody whom I detested at first but came to love, whose nurturing manner I will truly miss, except when she's peeking over my shoulder to see what I'm cooking and it's ravioli from a can and she says "Oooh la la...", but maybe even that should stay in the things I'll miss section.
-Days full of sunshine when I would walk, accompanied by a towel and a good book, to the sandy beaches where I would spend hours enjoying the warmth and somebody's words.
-Knowing where I'm going to sleep every night.
Things I Will Decidedly Not Miss About La Grande Motte:
-Old men in speedos.
-Come to think of it, old women in speedos. It's not that I'm trying to be mean, but maybe topless should be a little more discriminatory.
-Waking up at six o'clock. Not that my internal clock will really allow me to sleep in anymore, but getting up and not having to work is going to be so grand.
-Pollen. So much pollen. If I didn't have allergies when I came to La Grande Motte, I may just have them now. And yes, I know it's not contagious or something you "catch". Nonetheless.
-Not owning a yacht. The port is a very sad place when you're not rich and that's why you need to make up schemes with your pals to steal one in the dead of night.
-Knowing where I'm going to sleep every night.
And so, internet, I believe this is Adieu until who knows where, who knows when.
One thing that's kind of got me down lately:
Nobody says bless you anymore.
What's up with that?