Prague and Packing

I'm in the final week stretch here in Paris. I'm going to miss it a ridiculous amount, but I'm excited to go back and see everyone. And plus, my friend Michelle is learning how to make pain au chocolat so that I don't get too Paris-sick.

The final day in Galway was fun. We went to a barbeque, which I hadn't been to in forever. I forgot how much I miss barbeques. I didn't actually eat at the barbeque because I'd already had far too much food that day, but the smells were enough for me.

Allison and I met Théo in Prague and we all travelled to our hostel. I booked us a dorm room that could house ten people. There were 4 Spanish guys and an Italian in the room with us. They all very much enjoyed spending long nights together, and would frequently reenter the room at 5 in the morning. This didn't really bother us, though we did judge them the night all 4 of the Spanish guys wore matching all-white outfits and proceeded to take a photo shoot in the room where they struck poses that slightly resembled Backstreet Boy pictures of yesteryear.

The three of us mainly just wandered around Prague, checking out the castle and all the cool stuff. I felt kind of bad for Théo because Allison and I would be walking and then get distracted by shiny objects or puppets that were carved to look like Harry Potter and demand to go into the shop. I don't think he was as impressed by the shiny objects as we were.

We also saw a show while there. Faust in blacklight (no words). Allison and I enjoyed it, Théo did not. Really, I'm starting to feel bad for him as I write this. I give him props for not leaving us to go hang out with the Spanish guys in their white outfits.

We did go to the largest club in Europe (it's like 5 million floors) and also went on a ghost tour. Apparently Prague has an entire street that no one lives on because it's haunted. There are only shops. Our tour guide said, "People used to live above the shops, but it gets annoying when ghosts walk through the walls all the time carrying their heads under their arms or whatever it is ghosts do."

So true. Annoying would be how I would describe a ghost sighting.

Flying home worked out well. Apparently having "Mrs" instead of "Ms" on my ticket didn't matter, and no one questioned the validity of my fake marriage.

Yesterday, I saw a friend from my college who had been staying in London. We got lunch in a cafe and I recounted my various European adventures while listening to hers. Now I'm just trying to plan the rest of my time here and pack to get ready to go back. I told my dad yesterday that I'm insisting on a family party celebrating my homecoming. I was kind of joking, but I do want cake. I don't even care what the cake says... "Welcome Home, Meghan", "Shit, She's Back", "Happy Birthday, Jesus"... Cake is cake, man. They don't have those proper really-really-bad-for-you cake mixes here, so I haven't had a decently sugarified cake since I left. I think this needs to change.

Alright, packing. Andddddddddddd go!

Irish Adventure Number 2

I finally made it to see Allison (one of my best friends from high school) in Galway. She wanted me to meet her boyfriend, Paul. When I got here on Saturday, Paul was drinking in the backyard with one of his friends. This turned out to set the tone of the evening as more and more of Paul’s friends came over to drink with us in true Irish style. All of them brought huge cases of beer. It made me feel right at home.

At one point, Allison said, “I’m surrounded by boys… I just can’t seem to get away from them.” At this very moment, three more boys knocked on the door, bringing the number of males in the house up to 12 compared to just 3 girls (me, Allison, and her roommate Carly), so I was inclined to believe her. They were all very nice though, and quite willing to sing Disney songs with me once they got drunk enough, so we got along swimmingly.

Later in the night, we all went out to a pub and danced to Irish songs. Paul and his friends kept buying me drinks, which was very nice of them. I would barely start one when a new one was placed in front of me. Instead of drinking a lot, it actually accomplished the opposite. I got so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of alcohol in front of me that I don’t believe I actually drank the equivalent of a full drink, it was more like one tiny sip of each accompanied by a “thanks.” I think this made them think I didn’t like whatever they had given me, which would cause them to buy me yet another drink. I suppose a better approach would have been, “Meghan, what would you like to drink?” But why ask someone what they want when you can just buy them loads and loads of drinks in complete and utter uncertainty?

Allison and I have spent the last few days going around all the sites in Galway, and today we went to visit a castle. It had a little village set up around it, so it was quite intense. Someone took farmhouses from all parts of Ireland from the early 19^th century and rebuilt them all over the estate, so one from Galway and one from Kerry and one from Shannon would be all next to each other. I don’t know who took the time to do this, but I hope they were well paid for it.

For dinner, Allison and I reserved spots for the medieval banquet that you can eat inside the castle. We had honeyed mead and meat in the banquet hall, just like in Beowulf, so I felt like I was living the literature major’s dream. We also got sung to by a little, old Irish man. I was just excited to have gotten to eat a banquet in a real castle, and will probably brag about this for the rest of my life to all those who haven’t been fortunate to relive Beowulf.

Tomorrow we’re just going to hang out around Galway, and then leave for Prague early in the morning on Thursday. We’re meeting up with Théo there, and are both extremely excited. We’ve already planned on going on a Haunted Prague tour, as Prague is supposed to be one of the most haunted cities in all of Europe. I’m prepared to not be able to sleep for the rest of my time there after taking the tour.

No worries, I’ll detail all the reasons Prague is haunted in my next entry. Well, providing I actually get back to Paris alright. I’ve already had to call the Prague airlines I’m using several times as they first put my name down as “Mr. Meghan” on the ticket and then “Mrs. Meghan.” I should have just left the first one on the ticket and seen if they asked me about how the sex change had gone.

I'd definitely have something to write about then.

Goodbyes

My heart goes out to my family today. While I wish I could be with them today, I'm glad they understood me staying here.

I've found Skype and my internet rarely work when I want them to. My brother's birthday, Mother's Day... I think the internet is secretly scheming against me. Théo was really nice and lent me his so that I could wish Brendan a happy birthday on facebook. I'm not sure why the internet here never works. My only theory is that all the strikes that the workers here have effected (affected? merde, I've completely lost my grammar skills) it and it's working French-style.

On Monday, I had to say goodbye to Ben. He's going to Dublin to work for at least the next six months. He's become one of my best friends here, so I'm really sad to see him leaving (really it's only by chance that I was tired and didn't sob all over him. He got lucky). We spent yesterday hanging out at the park then a cafe and I met him later for drinks.

I gave him my blog so he now has access to my incredible wit, intelligence, and modesty, even though it'll be over in three weeks. I would write one for Dubuque, but my entries would look like this:

Went to class today. And work. Am now watching tv. I think I might go to McDonalds. Do you think they have pain au chocolat there?

I cringe at the very thought. Though I suppose as a fiction writer, I could make up stories to make things more interesting.

I went to work, and a man in a suit was waiting for me. He claimed he was from the FBI and that they had a special mission for me... Go undercover at Disneyworld to stop a huge character riot.

Molly and I didn't end up going to Disneyland because that was the day I got the email and because neither of us could really afford it. She left on Sunday. Melyn and I helped her with her bags. This was necessary as she had 5 of them and two of them were roughly the size and weight of me. I'm still not sure how she got all of them on the plane, but I can't wait to hear that story.

Théo also found out about my blog and asked me for the address. Thinking of the "Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home is Gay" entry, I turned down the request. After being asked a few more times, I finally gave in. Théo and Ben, don't be offended by the list. It's all cultural differences... not any reflection on your sexuality.

Though really, everyone should thank me. It's a common misconception that French men are all gay and I have just done the work for them by pegging down specific reasons people think this.

Well, I have to go meet Katie at the office to give her some stuff she forgot from Spring Break, but I'll write more later.

Mema

This post is going to be dedicated to the memory of Billie Sue Hartsell, an amazing grandmother and person.

About 5 seconds after I read the email that she had passed on, Molly knocked on the door. She gave me a hug and was really nice and comforting and let me cry for a little bit, and then we went out to the park to just sit there with Ben and Melyn.

I got to talk to my family when we returned, which was a good thing even though I cried a lot. Tamara (my roommate) was concerned when she heard me and asked if everything was ok. When I told her, she said that if I needed someone to talk to (even if I wanted to talk in English) or cry on or to make Nutella sandwiches that she would be there, which I appreciated. Steven knocked on my door to see what was up for the day and realized something was wrong when he saw my face. He offered to make me dinner, which I thought was really nice of him. Melyn and Molly ended up making me pasta carbonera for dinner and Théo brought me pain au chocolat.

I just realized how much food was mentioned in that. Apparently eating is how I cope with things. No one should find this surprising.

It was really nice to see that I had a support system here even though I haven't been here for too terribly long. I got a lot of sympathy from the Language Exchange people as well. Everyone was looking out for me, so no worries.

I was glad I got to say goodbye last Sunday through Skype and talk to her one final time. I'm going to miss her.

Disney Trumps School

My classes end in exactly four days. Considering the fact that I've been in class since January, I'm ready to be done with classes.

Naturally, I'm not ready to leave Paris. I've already begun making plans to come back. I just looked up how to get a job at EuroDisney, and this is what I found:


Character work : Make dreams come true by bringing to life the famous Disney Characters, including the Princes & Princesses. No formal training is needed, just an abundance of energy, a big smile and a dream in your heart.


Energy? Check. A big smile? Check. A dream in my heart? I have more than one, so I'm overqualified.

I'm pretty sure I was born for that job.

Now no judgements please, but Molly and I are going back to Disneyland on Friday. It's her third to last day. This time we're going with British friends. They have been warned that Molly and I stick to the Pirates' Code: any man who falls behind is left behind. They laughed and thought we were joking, but they'll see.

Molly and I have actually had everyday planned out for the last two weeks to ensure that we covered everything before she leaves next Sunday. We've been mapping out our favorite meals and places. Someone in our class tried to set up a going away party for us, but that was Disney day, so I had to gently let them down.

Our French friends are utterly disgusted with our choice to go to Disneyland again. They all had some snippity comments to make, but soon stopped after I told them all they were Satanists for hating the most magical place on Earth.

The past week has been very fun. Molly received to vouchers for free meals from Hardrock Cafe, so we used them on Friday. Each voucher was for an appetizer, an entree, a dessert and a free drink. We had so much food on the table that at one point one of the servers went, "Look at that! It looks like they're having a damn picnic!" We ended up having 6 full boxes of food to take home. Our server couldn't look us in the eye because he started laughing every single time. But then, we were laughing too. We also went to the Phantom of the Opera's opera house again. Many dramatic pictures were taken. No Phantom sitings yet. I fear he's on vacation.

I have acquired a boyfriend. In France if you go on dates two days in a row, you're dating. True story. I was unaware of this rule until someone I hadn't been aware I'd been dating gave me the friend's speech. I think he was more confused than I was when I said, "Wait, weren't we already friends?" This is probably why relationships in Paris don't last very long. Anyway, this new guy (Théo) actually eats more than I do, so he wins. Though he refuses to come with me to Disneyland. His loss.

I have four tests in the next three days. And three papers (though I'm almost done with one of them). I should probably go study for those. I have absolutely no idea how I'll do in these French classes. The French aren't as straightforward about things like what you're learning or what's due or what's going to be on the final. They just give you a bunch of worksheets and go, "OK! Guess! Hope you're right!"

Molly and I tried to get one of our teachers to tell us what would be on the test and she started this monologue about Smurfs (or Schtrumpfs in French)- as in the cartoon characters. I'm not even joking. We were like, "Yes, Smurfs are blue... that's very nice. We assume that won't be on the test, but we were wondering if the past tense will be... What? No real answer? Still going on about Smufs? Ok." It's a tad bit irritating, so right now I'm just going to study as much as I can and pray that something she handed us a worksheet on will be one the test. There's about a 50% chance that it will be.

Pray for my French grades. They will probably need it.

Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home Is Gay

As promised...

1. Two words: man purse. Far too many European males are rockin’ the murse. I get that it’s good for carrying stuff around, and they can’t use their pockets unlike Amercian males because of #2, which is…

2. Tight pants. Not exactly skin tight, but there’s not much room for anything to breathe. I thought that was important.

3. They look so put together. They generally dress better and are more fashion forward than I am. No t-shirts for these boys. Even those trying to rock the American gangsta style still look like the model versions of American gangsters. (Except my friend, Arnaud, but he also knows every American rap song ever sung. I don’t think he counts.)

4. Their hair is also generally better than mine.

5. Man jewelry, and I don’t mean watches.

6. They wear ties to clubs. I can’t even count the number of guys I’ve danced with in suits. It’s a bit ridiculous. I’m pretty sure in the States a guy just picks up a random shirt, says, “That smells like it’s clean,” and then goes out.

7. Their cologne smells better than my perfume… and they always wear it, so they always smell slightly flowery.

8. They don’t really eat. Well, they do… just way less. It always makes me really uncomfortable when whatever guy I’m on a date with consumes less food than me. That happens… every date here. Unless they have discovered the joy that is McDonalds, in which case they can probably out eat me.

9. Their alcoholic beverage of choice is wine. In the States, you bring beer to a sporting event. In France, real men drink wine.

And last but not least,

10. I saw two guys bisous, which is the French greeting of kissing on both cheeks. I don’t care if they were drunk. Isn’t that when your true emotions come out?

Yet Another Holiday the French Have That You Don't

Right now a lot of the boys in my foyer are playing ping pong outside in the courtyard. I can hear every word they're saying, and am learning a lot of new French swear words.

I know it's been a long time. I beg your forgiveness. I just have been a bit busy with school and life. (We've been doing something pretty much every single night.)

I attended my first French film without subtitles last week. Coco Avant Chanel (Coco before Chanel). It was all about her love affair before she started her clothing line. As I know most relationship words in French, I did pretty well with it and only had turn to my friend one time and ask, "So wait, the guy she's having a fling with is married?"

This past weekend was the first that we went out every single night... from Wednesday night to Sunday morning (yes, I'm aware that I wrote morning). I done that exactly... never, so I needed all of Sunday to recover.

The French get May Day (May 1st) off. It's like their Labor Day. Apparently it's even bigger in Finland and called "Vappu," so all my Finnish friends organized a picnic. We all drank wine and ate bread and meat and cheese (I held away from the cheese). Some amazing person also brought bubbles. Then we went back to the girls' apartment and had sushi and some Finnish bread.

I've had sushi before, but I forgot (stupidly) that wassabi was very spicy. This led to tears running down my face and far too many people asking me if I was ok. I think wassabi improperly named. I think it should be called "Clear your sinuses" sauce. Though "wassabi" is probably the word first person who ever had it said when they tried it. It was supposed to be "What the hell?" but "wassabi" came out instead. Thus the power of wassabi. (I know it's a Japanese word... I imagine the direct translation into English is "Wtf, mate?")

One of my friends, Théo, was upset that he didn't get to come to Vappu, so he's having another one at his place on Saturday. His parents have a very nice apartment (it's really rare in Paris to have a big/ nice apartment. The one I went to 2 weekends ago would have made most New York appartments look like grand palaces), so it should be good. We decided to have another picnic before it.

One of my best friends from high school, Allison, is coming to visit. She's currently studying in Galway. I'm SO excited to be seeing her again. She gets in tonight. Théo has informed me that I'm allowed to bring her to Vappu, so she will have an unrealistic idea of French apartments. If I was allowed to show her my room to counteract this idea, I would.

I got to experience watching a soccer game in someone's apartment on Wednesday. Chelsea and Barcelona were having an important game, so Arnaud invited a few of us to his appartment. I was expecting the guys to bring beer or something like it... no, they all brought wine. And instead of having meat and chips and greasy food, Arnaud brought out peanuts. Molly and I had to go buy a bag of chips to feel at home. Molly judged Arnaud for his lack of proper food. When we opened his refridgerator, it contained only things like yogurt. He also had a bowl of fruit on the counter. I told him he wasn't a real boy. At that point, he opened the freezer to show me the steaks he had in there, but it wasn't enough to impress me.

I felt better when Molly said, "Don't worry, he goes to McDonalds a lot." Arnaud nodded and said, "Yeah, it's right around the corner."

Still, I could never marry a European male. I need someone who eats more than I do. These boys just don't cut it. I think my next post will be a list entitled: "Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home Is Gay." Look out for it sometime this weekend. We have today off again because... the French have more days off than anyone else in the world.

I have decided to end my classes when all the rest of the people in my program are (May 22nd), and spend the rest of the time traveling or working on my great American novel. I think I may have to make the man slightly unrealistic (in the sense he will be both European and act like an actual man), but he'll still be European enough. We will see how this goes.