Ok kids, we all saw the superbowl, and we are all full of glee that Chicago got stomped. WHy didn't Prince sing more songs? Remember that time that Chicago scored way too early and we were all worried that chicago would win? Remember that one girl who yelled so loud you wanted to throw a chicken wing at her, but you resisted?
I do.
We're allglad that emilie and I wore coordinated outfits and we're all glad that the one annoying girl with the annoying chicago accent who kept yelling at the TV screen like a banshee (the one who almost got a chicken wing in the noggin'?) ended up crying as the Bears lost like the crap team they are. Remember how you don't like Chicago, just 'cuz? I don't know about football, but I heard their quarterback's sense of direction is so off he could jump out of a boat and miss the water.
Side note!
Before the superbowl Emilie and I had dinner with the Calderos (Best Family Ever) and we sang Grease, and David Bowie with their daughter and it was awesome. Emilie impressed everyone with her mad Pink Floyd skillz. Way to know Pink Floyd emilie, but I will always beat you with my Beatles knowledge. Together we are unstoppable.
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Beer pong and flip cup are more fun with foreigners
More details to come, but FYI i have not completely lost my touch on the beer pong court. Nor has Emilie, her team made it to the finals! Snaps to Jen and her apartment for keeping the American Dream alive.
We brought along Holly the English Lady, and she really tore up the beer pong circuit. It was excellent for her first time! I ended up losing, but it was close. Somewhere along the night we (and by we I mean me and Emilie) decided to put on our representin' costumes and really fight for something we believed in, like our alliegances to our respective origins, sorta. Hers being sweden, mine being StL, missouri. We both weren't born in either, but hey, i felt the love, and I wanted to share it. I also wanted a reason to wear the StL flag like a cape.
We played flip cup later to much success. Holly even joined (again her first time with the kooky semi-alcoholicness of american drinking games) and she got occasionally confused, but I'd give her a total A for effort. Caroline, my superhero of a friend, who is also french (oh snap!) stopped by later and we went to a gay - but not gay- bar where it was smoky and me and emilie wanted to just go home b/c it was torture.
Holly wandered away to a taxi sometime before this as she is known to do. SHe is tall, so we figured she'd be safe, and she was.
We were greeted by a half-blown-up air mattress and freezing air, but emilie and I managed to sleep a little and laugh a lot b/c it was just such an uncomfortable way to sleep, therefore it was hilarious.
The next day was time for hangovers, needless to say.
But that was not to stop us! Emilie's semi-boyfriend-but-not-really-at-all-like-not-at-all-he-was-just-in-love-with-her-and-whatev was in town and he was going to bring a friend and we were to dine with them. Well, I was like, not feeling all that cute and was a little wary of meeing another french boy and having to talk to him about the war in iraq so I was like, "em i hope this guy is not in the mood for love b/c I am NOT, and I'll bet he is not cute. "
Well that was poetic of me, b/c Emilie's friend's friend was probably one of the most attractive people I've seen in real life. So that was a fun dinner.
And I didn't look cute! I had glasses on, for heaven's sake. Sigh.
Later on in the evening was pretty swell, as we went to this mod lookin' lounge (where they play 60's soul music, hello I am sold) called "Voxx" to hang out with Becky from Cali and her french buddies and then went to 42, this nightclub where they played the frenchest music possible (they played "Champs Elysses, man...anyone who took french class knows that song) and I drank beer and stayed up suuuuuuuuuuper late.
We caught the bus home at around 5am. Emilie and I are too hard-core for our own good, seriously. You want to party with us...but maybe you don't b/c you might be embarrased if you are out-partied by a couple of smiley girls.
We brought along Holly the English Lady, and she really tore up the beer pong circuit. It was excellent for her first time! I ended up losing, but it was close. Somewhere along the night we (and by we I mean me and Emilie) decided to put on our representin' costumes and really fight for something we believed in, like our alliegances to our respective origins, sorta. Hers being sweden, mine being StL, missouri. We both weren't born in either, but hey, i felt the love, and I wanted to share it. I also wanted a reason to wear the StL flag like a cape.
We played flip cup later to much success. Holly even joined (again her first time with the kooky semi-alcoholicness of american drinking games) and she got occasionally confused, but I'd give her a total A for effort. Caroline, my superhero of a friend, who is also french (oh snap!) stopped by later and we went to a gay - but not gay- bar where it was smoky and me and emilie wanted to just go home b/c it was torture.
Holly wandered away to a taxi sometime before this as she is known to do. SHe is tall, so we figured she'd be safe, and she was.
We were greeted by a half-blown-up air mattress and freezing air, but emilie and I managed to sleep a little and laugh a lot b/c it was just such an uncomfortable way to sleep, therefore it was hilarious.
The next day was time for hangovers, needless to say.
But that was not to stop us! Emilie's semi-boyfriend-but-not-really-at-all-like-not-at-all-he-was-just-in-love-with-her-and-whatev was in town and he was going to bring a friend and we were to dine with them. Well, I was like, not feeling all that cute and was a little wary of meeing another french boy and having to talk to him about the war in iraq so I was like, "em i hope this guy is not in the mood for love b/c I am NOT, and I'll bet he is not cute. "
Well that was poetic of me, b/c Emilie's friend's friend was probably one of the most attractive people I've seen in real life. So that was a fun dinner.
And I didn't look cute! I had glasses on, for heaven's sake. Sigh.
Later on in the evening was pretty swell, as we went to this mod lookin' lounge (where they play 60's soul music, hello I am sold) called "Voxx" to hang out with Becky from Cali and her french buddies and then went to 42, this nightclub where they played the frenchest music possible (they played "Champs Elysses, man...anyone who took french class knows that song) and I drank beer and stayed up suuuuuuuuuuper late.
We caught the bus home at around 5am. Emilie and I are too hard-core for our own good, seriously. You want to party with us...but maybe you don't b/c you might be embarrased if you are out-partied by a couple of smiley girls.
The coolest family ever, and the house-party concert time
I miss them, actually and havn't seen them in a while. This picture is me wearing the guitarist's shoe b/c i added a percussive stomping effect when I sang "Hallelujia I love him so" and there was joking and I ended up wearing his shoe b/c it was funny enough for me. It looks good, i think.
We hung out in the kitchen, where all the gleeful french mathematician/musicians/? made fun of me for almost understanding/speaking french, but it was a happy sort of making fun, like what you'd do to your 23 year old cousin if you were 40 and having a party at 3am and your 23 year old cousin laughed a lot but didn't QUITE understand what you were saying ever. With me? It was probably one of the best nights ever, and you know I loved dancing with the kids as we sang a half-hour version of Yellow Submarine. I also have a secret handshake with the kids now, too. Family time, how I miss you!
There was another gal that sang, but she had this very like, let me scat and be all jazzy sortof style, and I was like, I cannot feel the spirit if I'm babbidy-do'ing all the way to improv boredomland. That's just me.
Its lucky that we didn't end up at some bar in the city, b/c the house party was a much bigger success, and I will say it again, I am so lucky to know this family. yay!
Friday, February 09, 2007
The week I didn't sleep a lot
So it all began last tuesday, when I decided to go out until basically Monday.
So bullet points, as its getting late...promise to fill in the blanks ASAP/post vacay:
- friday, emilie arrives, we have a crazy night of Beer pong and flip cup, at one point I decide to wear my St. Louis flag (that I brought, b/c I represent). I also wore blue shoes that gave me blisters as we went to the gay, but not gay club with my french BFF Caro.
- Emilie and I slept on a half inflated airmattress in the cold, and it was so bad it was funny. We were v. hungover and angry the next day and didn't want to move, but we had to get bagels, and then there was more on our calendar....
-Saturday we met with Emilie's friend Meme (Aurelien, but I call him Meme, as do his country friends) and his super super sexy friend Alban (who has a super cute girlfriend, so hey). I was not expecting such cuteness. We ate dinner, talked about toys, it was cute. Not as cute as Alban (nothing is really), but it was a cute evening with french dudes fussing over the quality of the wine and taking charge as boys out to dinner with girls (even as friends) should. Did I mention that Alban was cute?
- We then went to the Voxx, a cool loungy place where they'll actually play soul music from time to time. Excellent! We hung out with Beck and her bf, and some other french couple.
- Then we go to the 42 which is a very very preppy night club/ski lodge moment where they played the FRENCHEST music ever. It was a cliche, and it was awesome.
- Catch the bus at 5:30am to home.
- Sunday we were not as hungover, so we watched Harold and Kumar, and then went to Phillipe and Agnes' to sing, have some tea, and eat a "green dinner" (it was all made of green stuff) and just talk about life, politics, life and america/france. Good times! The caldero's are awesome. Philippe introduced us to some lovely french classics, and Emilie sang pink floyd, and we all sang us some David Bowie Ground Control to Major Tom goodness.
- Then it was Superbowl time. Lots of screamy Chicago types, and we colts supporters kept our cool. It was fun! Football culture rules. I will be frequenting bars for suuperbowls of the future to be sure.
- We stayed up in Jen's apt for a bit, and caught the bus at 5am to home. Monday morning was hard, and it sortof gave me a cold for the whole week.
But it was worth it!
Peace out. See you in a couple weeks.
So bullet points, as its getting late...promise to fill in the blanks ASAP/post vacay:
- friday, emilie arrives, we have a crazy night of Beer pong and flip cup, at one point I decide to wear my St. Louis flag (that I brought, b/c I represent). I also wore blue shoes that gave me blisters as we went to the gay, but not gay club with my french BFF Caro.
- Emilie and I slept on a half inflated airmattress in the cold, and it was so bad it was funny. We were v. hungover and angry the next day and didn't want to move, but we had to get bagels, and then there was more on our calendar....
-Saturday we met with Emilie's friend Meme (Aurelien, but I call him Meme, as do his country friends) and his super super sexy friend Alban (who has a super cute girlfriend, so hey). I was not expecting such cuteness. We ate dinner, talked about toys, it was cute. Not as cute as Alban (nothing is really), but it was a cute evening with french dudes fussing over the quality of the wine and taking charge as boys out to dinner with girls (even as friends) should. Did I mention that Alban was cute?
- We then went to the Voxx, a cool loungy place where they'll actually play soul music from time to time. Excellent! We hung out with Beck and her bf, and some other french couple.
- Then we go to the 42 which is a very very preppy night club/ski lodge moment where they played the FRENCHEST music ever. It was a cliche, and it was awesome.
- Catch the bus at 5:30am to home.
- Sunday we were not as hungover, so we watched Harold and Kumar, and then went to Phillipe and Agnes' to sing, have some tea, and eat a "green dinner" (it was all made of green stuff) and just talk about life, politics, life and america/france. Good times! The caldero's are awesome. Philippe introduced us to some lovely french classics, and Emilie sang pink floyd, and we all sang us some David Bowie Ground Control to Major Tom goodness.
- Then it was Superbowl time. Lots of screamy Chicago types, and we colts supporters kept our cool. It was fun! Football culture rules. I will be frequenting bars for suuperbowls of the future to be sure.
- We stayed up in Jen's apt for a bit, and caught the bus at 5am to home. Monday morning was hard, and it sortof gave me a cold for the whole week.
But it was worth it!
Peace out. See you in a couple weeks.
The Toasted Ravioli's
I'm starting a band.
I was inspired by many things, but the straws that broke the proverbial camel's back (actually it was 2 pieces of straw) were Sara Bareilles and Raining Jane.
So far...
Schaper: bongos, triangle, tambourine
Lori: acoustic and vocals
Wamble: ivories
We're still looking for an actual drummer, and a bass player -- but really any instrument will do (might even consider the kazoo or the spoons, or the "can filled with beans" as well).
Its exciting!
Also in exciting news, I begin my whirlwind vacation (its supposed to be the SKI vacation in france, but I forgot my skis in mountainous missouri --- man, I love skiing, but like, not gonna happen...I have to live!) beginning with a week under the Tuscan sun with Miss Blythe, of Duchek award (among others) fame.
I'm bringing my St. Louis flag, and we're gonna fly it.
One of my gal pals from Penn, with whom I was lucky enough to co-write and perform the Senior Performing Arts Night Medley, "Suddenly Senior" (to the tune of that ever present favorite, "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors, naturally --- I choreographed)...well she's got friends in italian places who are researching their Art History PhD's in florence, and well, we're going to drop an StL bomb on her friends, and its going to be fun! It's times like these I relish being a 24 year old college graduate - I know people all over the world who in turn know other people, and we all want to party, essentially. Its great.
Old Man Harig sent me a lovely email of tuscan reccomendations, and we're going to check those out, and while away the hours in Siena, the less american Florence. Excellent. Cinqueterre should be neat, and well, you, loyal reader, will hear all about it's limoncello-fed craziness. I really hope we can meet the art historys, they should ad some local flava to our rambling.
Onto the next leg of the trip its time to chill with the Northern Europeans - Hamburg to see Aubrey, who I've known since Kirkwood Children's Chorale (we'll see if she remembers "We are the Young" - I know she will) and then off to amsterdam for some tourist seeing, bike watching, and eh. I'll end my sojurn in Belgium, where I will eat waffles, have some fries, and hopefully shop in antwerp and see Brussells (OK go is playing on the 23rd, why are they sold out, don't they remember how I was the first Missourian to like them probably?)
Let me know if you want to join my band - all are welcome, even if you're just passing by. Rehearsals start June 07.
I was inspired by many things, but the straws that broke the proverbial camel's back (actually it was 2 pieces of straw) were Sara Bareilles and Raining Jane.
So far...
Schaper: bongos, triangle, tambourine
Lori: acoustic and vocals
Wamble: ivories
We're still looking for an actual drummer, and a bass player -- but really any instrument will do (might even consider the kazoo or the spoons, or the "can filled with beans" as well).
Its exciting!
Also in exciting news, I begin my whirlwind vacation (its supposed to be the SKI vacation in france, but I forgot my skis in mountainous missouri --- man, I love skiing, but like, not gonna happen...I have to live!) beginning with a week under the Tuscan sun with Miss Blythe, of Duchek award (among others) fame.
I'm bringing my St. Louis flag, and we're gonna fly it.
One of my gal pals from Penn, with whom I was lucky enough to co-write and perform the Senior Performing Arts Night Medley, "Suddenly Senior" (to the tune of that ever present favorite, "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors, naturally --- I choreographed)...well she's got friends in italian places who are researching their Art History PhD's in florence, and well, we're going to drop an StL bomb on her friends, and its going to be fun! It's times like these I relish being a 24 year old college graduate - I know people all over the world who in turn know other people, and we all want to party, essentially. Its great.
Old Man Harig sent me a lovely email of tuscan reccomendations, and we're going to check those out, and while away the hours in Siena, the less american Florence. Excellent. Cinqueterre should be neat, and well, you, loyal reader, will hear all about it's limoncello-fed craziness. I really hope we can meet the art historys, they should ad some local flava to our rambling.
Onto the next leg of the trip its time to chill with the Northern Europeans - Hamburg to see Aubrey, who I've known since Kirkwood Children's Chorale (we'll see if she remembers "We are the Young" - I know she will) and then off to amsterdam for some tourist seeing, bike watching, and eh. I'll end my sojurn in Belgium, where I will eat waffles, have some fries, and hopefully shop in antwerp and see Brussells (OK go is playing on the 23rd, why are they sold out, don't they remember how I was the first Missourian to like them probably?)
Let me know if you want to join my band - all are welcome, even if you're just passing by. Rehearsals start June 07.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Steak Dinners at 3am and annoying 18 year old british punks
Last tuesday I was lucky enough to get to hang out with my awesome buddy Caroline, her friend Julie, and some rakish bartender dudes (who also somehow knew about some diner-meets-french-bistro thing (!) that has steak dinners with au gratin potatoes (or fries, naturally) served with a background of Phill Collins easy-listening at 3-4am.)
Awesome.
Jen, one of my favorite indianans came along, and we just had a time of it.
The evening started off with a lively concert by what seemed to be a rather skilled, but not too skilled college orchestra. They played some violin pieces for some virtuoso dude, and I was like, um I know a virtuoso, too, though I think we are in a fight. (Are we, J?) Anyway, I was adequately impressed, politely even. They played "an american in paris" by the one and only tin pan alley gangsta George Gershwin- and you just gotta love you some American in Paris.
My buddy Zak decided that they played it in a way that emphasized that Americans are vulgar and only want a hamburger in Paris, and though I agree somewhat on his musical commentary, I disagree that the lovely French musicians were striking a low blow to our giant American egos throught he medium of mid-century orchestral music. Also, the jazzy countermelodies that -- one would speculate -- emphasize the burger-lust are really Gershwin's thing, I bet the orchestra just played'em loud b/c they are Awesome, capital A. They are. They are also very Aerican (re: jazz) and that makes them very special, and something we can all share. And share we did! Oh I love the bluesy part, its just life-giving. I loved it! Live music.
Oh! That reminds me that I simply must tell you about my night o' jazz and laughter with the ever-awesome Caldero family. Wow, it was awesome. I would like to teach the world to sing, and it'd be ok even if the harmony wasn't perfect. Snaps to Anges' daugher Solene for being an awesome 12 year old Saggitarian (December 15th homegirl, to be exact!). I am bringing you Emilie, and we shall sing Grease!
Was I digressing just then? Anyway, mid-chilling at Caro's favorite english pub, we were (un)lucky enough to encounter cocky british 18-year-old "i hate american mannerisms" boy, who for the sake of brevity I shall now refer to as "Baby Spice." Seriously, kid? Mannerisms? Am I back at Penn where people mock me just b/c of where I'm from? Is that where we are again? Clearly it is.
Take me back to the show me state where everyone's from everywhere and at least the semi-illuminati I hang around are willing to sit back and soak up your mannerisms before they decide they hate you and your kind. Luckily (?) I've been par for this predjudicial course before (before France, even) -- labeled as God knows what (actually He does know) and well, though the power of my individuality couldn't withstand say, a presidential election, I was able to shrug of Baby Spice's gutless jabs with out giving a much of a damn. I rolled my eyes just to rub my hateful american mannerisms in his face.
This a kid whose grandfather may have found beside mine in World War frickin' TWO. And he hates me for my mannerisms?
Sometimes I wonder if people are actually for real.
Anyway, he got crazy yelled at by Caro's legit friend from chzechoslovakia or however you spell it, or divide it up into a bunch of "little republics of..." -- Martin the dissenting but convivial eastern european expat basically told Baby Spice to chill. Needless to say, it was frustrating (a girl doesn't like being hated...at least not before I tell you that I thought Napoleon Dynamite was LAME and that Dave Matthews just doesn't move me), but I'm brave enough to be a french fry - take that as you may.
Why always with the "why does everyone hate me, I'm just a nice Missouri girl?" drama? It must be very tiring, being a hater. Anyway, Miss Emilie is coming to town TONIGHT for a weekend of french beer pong, potatoes au gratin, maybe some absurdist french existentialist theatre (how many -isms can YOU fit into YOUR play?), and some superbowl, and probably a baguette here or there. Its exciting!
Awesome.
Jen, one of my favorite indianans came along, and we just had a time of it.
The evening started off with a lively concert by what seemed to be a rather skilled, but not too skilled college orchestra. They played some violin pieces for some virtuoso dude, and I was like, um I know a virtuoso, too, though I think we are in a fight. (Are we, J?) Anyway, I was adequately impressed, politely even. They played "an american in paris" by the one and only tin pan alley gangsta George Gershwin- and you just gotta love you some American in Paris.
My buddy Zak decided that they played it in a way that emphasized that Americans are vulgar and only want a hamburger in Paris, and though I agree somewhat on his musical commentary, I disagree that the lovely French musicians were striking a low blow to our giant American egos throught he medium of mid-century orchestral music. Also, the jazzy countermelodies that -- one would speculate -- emphasize the burger-lust are really Gershwin's thing, I bet the orchestra just played'em loud b/c they are Awesome, capital A. They are. They are also very Aerican (re: jazz) and that makes them very special, and something we can all share. And share we did! Oh I love the bluesy part, its just life-giving. I loved it! Live music.
Oh! That reminds me that I simply must tell you about my night o' jazz and laughter with the ever-awesome Caldero family. Wow, it was awesome. I would like to teach the world to sing, and it'd be ok even if the harmony wasn't perfect. Snaps to Anges' daugher Solene for being an awesome 12 year old Saggitarian (December 15th homegirl, to be exact!). I am bringing you Emilie, and we shall sing Grease!
Was I digressing just then? Anyway, mid-chilling at Caro's favorite english pub, we were (un)lucky enough to encounter cocky british 18-year-old "i hate american mannerisms" boy, who for the sake of brevity I shall now refer to as "Baby Spice." Seriously, kid? Mannerisms? Am I back at Penn where people mock me just b/c of where I'm from? Is that where we are again? Clearly it is.
Take me back to the show me state where everyone's from everywhere and at least the semi-illuminati I hang around are willing to sit back and soak up your mannerisms before they decide they hate you and your kind. Luckily (?) I've been par for this predjudicial course before (before France, even) -- labeled as God knows what (actually He does know) and well, though the power of my individuality couldn't withstand say, a presidential election, I was able to shrug of Baby Spice's gutless jabs with out giving a much of a damn. I rolled my eyes just to rub my hateful american mannerisms in his face.
This a kid whose grandfather may have found beside mine in World War frickin' TWO. And he hates me for my mannerisms?
Sometimes I wonder if people are actually for real.
Anyway, he got crazy yelled at by Caro's legit friend from chzechoslovakia or however you spell it, or divide it up into a bunch of "little republics of..." -- Martin the dissenting but convivial eastern european expat basically told Baby Spice to chill. Needless to say, it was frustrating (a girl doesn't like being hated...at least not before I tell you that I thought Napoleon Dynamite was LAME and that Dave Matthews just doesn't move me), but I'm brave enough to be a french fry - take that as you may.
Why always with the "why does everyone hate me, I'm just a nice Missouri girl?" drama? It must be very tiring, being a hater. Anyway, Miss Emilie is coming to town TONIGHT for a weekend of french beer pong, potatoes au gratin, maybe some absurdist french existentialist theatre (how many -isms can YOU fit into YOUR play?), and some superbowl, and probably a baguette here or there. Its exciting!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
A time for us – my love affair with Zurich
At the beginning of the day, I climbed the big protestant tower – really wasn’t that hard, and the view was groovy. Later on I went down to the sanctuary, and put on Aretha Franklin singing the Lord’s Prayer on my Ipod. Super geek alert, I know, but it was powerful!
Later on I strolled down the main shopping street, found a cute store, “En soie” – very cool silk stuff…real
I don’t know why fruity was my adjective of choice. I’m freestyling here. Anyway, I don’t want to hate on any bankers…bank away bankers! Your job would be very hard for me! So after my lovely stroll listening to the tune of swiss german all day, (like german, but with a Kermit the Frog accent…music to my ears! Sorta funny, too) I returned to my hostel, gathered my things and prepared to leave. Little did I know, I might’ve left my brain back at Wueste.
Adventures in Interneting
At doris ’ there was really fast internet, and it was in a home. Something I have not experienced for about 4 months. Needless to say, magical. Thanks to the Violands for allowing me to use the computer – I hope I did not seem to be an internet creeper.
I saw something funny on the comedy central insider blog, so I decided to email this fella Chris Locke, who also happens to have been the author of the book I was then reading (and I finished the book and it was awesome). Chris Locke being pretty much asesome and all, emailed me back! Throuch him I discovered that The Daily Show is taking their videos off YouTube…not cool! Chris Locke however, cool. Sortof an amazing moment.
Also, I found a gal who has linked to testimo in her blog…she lived in LA and she loves her some Testimo, so of course I loves me some her. We emailed, etc… it should be a happy friendship…maybe she can give me some insight into the testimo-customer-mind, so that I can write better descrips, and possible blog better when the time comes for the TestimoBlog.
I also discovered on the internet… http://www.elfyourself.com, http://www.photojojo.com, and subway parties, and Mr. Nola dirtycoast.com guy who may or may not be sending me a t-shirt to the Sweetbriar homestead for that kooky little “C-ray” thing I have to the right.
Awesome!
The next day for lunch we had some “birds” – which were really like, beef wrapped around pork wrapped around a pickle = delish – and I peaced out to
Seriously, it was super precious, the swiss countryside, and I like it that it’s a mountain fortress. I liken it to the mountain fortress in the movie big, and I feel very safe there knowing that, in the event of an invasion,
Gemutlicheit, yo
We drove to
Austrians call Germans some ridiculously awesome nonsense word and it totally drives the Germans crazy b/c they’re always asking what it means, when in fact it means absolutely nothing, other than, you’re a german and I’m calling you a goofy name that is something like Piffkie.
Don’t call Germans this, word to the wise.
However, if you meet an Austrian, complain about piffkies and they will love you.
Also, apparently, if you tell Austrians you are from
Gemutlicheit! Look into it,
They even have a drinking song about Gemutlicheit.
I learned about this lovely word from Rick Steves of BackDoor Europe - he's my travel Guru.
I am from Austria---Innsbruck!
"I am from Austria" is a song about Austria, and how it was big, but now it's small, but that doesn't mean it isn't still big on the awesomeness. It’s all in “Austrian” except for the chorus, which is in English, according to Doris - cheekily - so that, “everyone will know"
...that I am from Austria.
...that I am from Austria.
New years eve in
We went to the main square to watch Fireworks, dance the waltz, and to trade hats. (that last one’s not a tradition, but I think it should be!)
My chapeau, Herman the Red Tyrolean Hat (a purchase I had to make earlier that day) made lots of friends, and really suited everyone he found! We then went to a bar, and some Austrian guy tried to make out with me -- realizing/not realizing that I don’t speak ANY GERMAN AT ALL…I guess that’s sexy, the whole insta-dumb illiterate thing – anyway, I was like, eh, peace out. Though he did buy me a beer, and try to talk to me. Luckily, my Austrian buddies told him I was awesomely American, and didn’t understand anything he said. Plus, I barely drank that beer, it was like 2am on new years…I had had enough, and I needed to dance it off (and I did)!
Monday, January 08, 2007
Week before Christmas wrap up
After Christmas, I thought we all were poisoned by the weird Duchere water, b/c everyone was bein’ weird, and feeling weirder, like physically. We went to see this kooky show called Mayumana, sortof like poorman’s cirque du soleil meets stomp. I wanted to die through most of it, but most of the other girls were fairly entertained. It just seemed like a sortof semi-good Penn Performing arts performance of the Rhythmic, bang on trashcans in fluorescnent lights and do annoying clown sketches group to me.
Agnes had a fun party full of singing and eating. It was really fun getting to go over to Agnes’ and hang out with the Caldero family and make cookies. Very Christmas indeed. I accidentally said, “putain” (which I think is some sort of multi-use cussword), and was quite ashamed at uttering such profanity in the presence of family. But I’m a foreigner! I usually only cuss to creepers on the street, anyway.
Solene, agnes’ daughter who shares my birthday, was awesome and kept me company while I tried to make the peanut butter, hershey’s kiss cookies, though I had to improvise, cutting French chocoloates in half, to make makeshift Hershey’s kisses. It was pretty awesome that everyone but me was like, WOW these cookies are so novel! And I know them as the cookies that everyone has all the time and they are soooooooo common and boring and even a little bit annoying to me. How many times did those cookies show up at snacktime, seriously? But in france, this whole, putting the chocolate on the cookie thing was like, totally cool.
So that’s totally cool!
24 = best year ever!
My 24th birthday was glorious. I got great present from my buddies (guitar strap from Doris, excellent peach soap/lotion basket and moose stuffed animal from emma, and The Blues Brothers DVD from Holly and Silvia), I bought a cool ice-cream Buche de Noel for my birthday cake, Emilie came to town, I got happy birthday sung to me in like, 5 languages (Austrian, Italian, Spanish, Swedish, English, French…ok 6) while drinkin’ wine and eating olive oil flavored potato chips at Silvia’s, 4 of the Duchere girls managed to pass a logically sequenced night together and not get separated (here’s to pre-planning!) ....and I also got to hang with Caro and Hensley, and sing fun songs to the awesome GuitarMan who likes to play at English Pubs around Lyon. It was a great weekend of really getting to go out freely (knowing Emilie was always game for a drink – as long as it wasn’t Carlsburg – and feeling like a real Lyon gangsta, drinkin’ beers and takin’ names.
I also loved that Caro’s boyfriend’s name was Gaultier, and that when some weirdo tried to touch my AWESOME new snowboots and I had to yell at him, Gaultier said not to worry, he would protect me and my boots. Gaultier was tall, too, dude. Like scary giant Frenchman tall = excellent!
Air Force water polo california dude and other Austrians for dinner
I came home from wherever I was on Friday evening to find doris’ 2 friends and their cool water polo player friend, who was from California! How exciting!
He’s some air force academy drop-out, who plays water polo but really wants to be a writer or something…I can dig it. I remember saying specifically that when I was talking to him, “I dig” I think is what I said – and Doris was like, what’s that mean? And I felt sortof lame/awesome for unconsciously using the verb “dig” in everyday conversation with another American. I use weird words. Anyway, we had some lovely noodles, and some lovely pink wine drinks, and we were off to see the light show.
I personally was like, wow to the lights, but I wasn't super impressed. Agnes, my awesome teacher friend (that's her official title), says 4,000 or something people come (maybe it was million, but thats crazay) to see the lights and that this year she wasn't so impressed. I just thought I wasn't european enough to appreciate them, but apparently they were just not that appreciable this year. This is good, b/c I felt bad not being impressed!
Fete des Lumieres - Festival of lights!
Good times with Holly, the Italian duo of silvia and Carl, who I found out went to washU, holla! Represent! I heard he wants to move back to new york = lame! But its home to him, so its ok.
As for the lights, they were cool, but they were a little bit eurotastic. So I figured that the fact that the light display with the techno music and bubble sounds on a super old fountain was pretty much just sorta neat to me was b/c I am American and vulgar and used to super special effects when it comes to light shows…that are usually, if not always, to the tune of great hairbands of the 80s, namely Aerosmith, or like, Bon Jovi. So to the cathedral in lights with techno sounds an monks chanting coming out of the speakers I was mostly just reminded of how awesome that laser light show about recycling was at the “new” St. Louis Science center.
Though the cathedral lights were cool, but I think I should’ve done some drugs or something to fully enjoy it, and unfortunately for the light show, I am not big on the drugs. Being high on life didn’t help either!
But the whole light theme was to thank Mary (as in Jesus' mom) for saving Lyon from "la peste" which, from my best guestimate, was the Plague! oooo, spooky. But well worth the gratitude, albeit gratitude in the form of crazy euro lightshows.
As for the lights, they were cool, but they were a little bit eurotastic. So I figured that the fact that the light display with the techno music and bubble sounds on a super old fountain was pretty much just sorta neat to me was b/c I am American and vulgar and used to super special effects when it comes to light shows…that are usually, if not always, to the tune of great hairbands of the 80s, namely Aerosmith, or like, Bon Jovi. So to the cathedral in lights with techno sounds an monks chanting coming out of the speakers I was mostly just reminded of how awesome that laser light show about recycling was at the “new” St. Louis Science center.
Though the cathedral lights were cool, but I think I should’ve done some drugs or something to fully enjoy it, and unfortunately for the light show, I am not big on the drugs. Being high on life didn’t help either!
But the whole light theme was to thank Mary (as in Jesus' mom) for saving Lyon from "la peste" which, from my best guestimate, was the Plague! oooo, spooky. But well worth the gratitude, albeit gratitude in the form of crazy euro lightshows.
Montbelliard - archeologists and dreamy prince people
Dear Montbelliard, France:
You and your Christmas market were sortof an interesting antidote to my hangover. Though I had to carry my laptop all through you, I thank you for bringing me and the Leather Pouch Prince together for brief eye contact. I sorta got lost in his big French eyes when I first saw him, it was a little shocking. He is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in person (Emilie agrees), and now I own a leather pouch he made, and its super useful! He really did look like some sort of dark prince or something, but like, he would eventually meet a princess and they would have a festival, etc…but really he was just a leather man! When he called me mademoiselle, it was something truly special. I am really stumbling with expressing how cute this French dude was. Just imagine…he was like, fairy tale, hellooooooo. But he just made leather pouches (damn nice ones, ps, and at a reasonable price).
Montbelliard was home to a famous anthropologist, but I was more into their cool pizzas, and how the whole alsacian + French genepool concept had really done wonders for montbelliard, which would make me dare to call it the most attractive city in france, thus far. Everyone looked like princes! Even the old dudes eating interesting cheese sandwiches in the Christmas market tent.
I saw a statue I decided looked like Emilie’s dad, I got some cheese potatoes that were sorta gross, but sorta good, we talked to funny weird pizza makers who were very friendly and funny (yay, normal funny and friendly people) and we had some beer, b/c hey, Montbelliard is near Germany.
The singing Marseilles football hooligans was really just an added bonus, though I was a little overwhelmed by them when I was like, hungover and carrying the laptop and like, sorta angry in general at the air for being so hard to breathe, etc…..Still, Emilie and I decided that our pretty much fav thing about Europe that you really can’t find in the states is their propensity to sing whenever possible, and their stock of songs for most every (drinking) occasion. Sure, we’ve covered the xmas tune market, and the pop music, sure, but for old fashioned drinking songs (and the real embarrassment-free willingness, if not enthusiasm to sing them…) there’s not place like the Big E.
I heart you Montbelliard. If you’re out there leather pouch prince, I sortof heart you, too.
I need to write me some drinking songs to sing in the USA, dude. My buddy doris even knows a drinking song about her region…from what I know of it, it rules. I want a regional song to sing when I drink! The Missouri waltz could do…I should learn it.
You and your Christmas market were sortof an interesting antidote to my hangover. Though I had to carry my laptop all through you, I thank you for bringing me and the Leather Pouch Prince together for brief eye contact. I sorta got lost in his big French eyes when I first saw him, it was a little shocking. He is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in person (Emilie agrees), and now I own a leather pouch he made, and its super useful! He really did look like some sort of dark prince or something, but like, he would eventually meet a princess and they would have a festival, etc…but really he was just a leather man! When he called me mademoiselle, it was something truly special. I am really stumbling with expressing how cute this French dude was. Just imagine…he was like, fairy tale, hellooooooo. But he just made leather pouches (damn nice ones, ps, and at a reasonable price).
Montbelliard was home to a famous anthropologist, but I was more into their cool pizzas, and how the whole alsacian + French genepool concept had really done wonders for montbelliard, which would make me dare to call it the most attractive city in france, thus far. Everyone looked like princes! Even the old dudes eating interesting cheese sandwiches in the Christmas market tent.
I saw a statue I decided looked like Emilie’s dad, I got some cheese potatoes that were sorta gross, but sorta good, we talked to funny weird pizza makers who were very friendly and funny (yay, normal funny and friendly people) and we had some beer, b/c hey, Montbelliard is near Germany.
The singing Marseilles football hooligans was really just an added bonus, though I was a little overwhelmed by them when I was like, hungover and carrying the laptop and like, sorta angry in general at the air for being so hard to breathe, etc…..Still, Emilie and I decided that our pretty much fav thing about Europe that you really can’t find in the states is their propensity to sing whenever possible, and their stock of songs for most every (drinking) occasion. Sure, we’ve covered the xmas tune market, and the pop music, sure, but for old fashioned drinking songs (and the real embarrassment-free willingness, if not enthusiasm to sing them…) there’s not place like the Big E.
I heart you Montbelliard. If you’re out there leather pouch prince, I sortof heart you, too.
I need to write me some drinking songs to sing in the USA, dude. My buddy doris even knows a drinking song about her region…from what I know of it, it rules. I want a regional song to sing when I drink! The Missouri waltz could do…I should learn it.
Monday, January 01, 2007
I´m Back
Does anyone get why that title is particularly resonant? I´ll tell you why! Bc Im in Austria! And guess who else is from Austria???
Arnold Schwartzennegger, dudes.
I spelled it wrong, but i am not going to google the governator just so make sure i spelled it right.
I´m bummed at myself for slacking on the updating...I hope you will be ok if I go out of chronological order. Blogs are better with the short and frequent posts, I know. If I were in america wondering what I was doing, I would be very mad at myself for not just taking some time to update!!!
I had so much to share before xmas time, and now Ive been in like a million places and seen a million things and definitely heard a million (or more) words that I totally did not understand.
Also, Im going to start using the map feature on my flickr account, get excited!!! This means that you will be able to see exactly where the picture was taken on a map! Internet!!!!!
Anyway, since we last talked Ive been to the countryside of france, where people are cuter, and its very quaint and full of cows, Ive travelled to Italy - Novarra, Milan, Verona, Venice... and now I am in Austria, Breggens to be exact and I had an old ladz get mad at me in german bc I walked too slow, and I spent new years eve in Innsbruck, Austria, which is really pretty and in the mountains and I got a cool Tyrolean Hat! I never knew what Tyrolean meant, but now I do!!! I also think that tyrolean hat wikipedia entry needs some TLC courtesy of me.
So yeah, Ill see you blog readers soon(mom, blythe, who else? If you feel like lettin´me know you read my blog, lay a lil' comment on down, I'll be able to tailor my entries to your whims more easily if I know who "you" are)!
Happy 2007!
Wooo! Best year ever!
Arnold Schwartzennegger, dudes.
I spelled it wrong, but i am not going to google the governator just so make sure i spelled it right.
I´m bummed at myself for slacking on the updating...I hope you will be ok if I go out of chronological order. Blogs are better with the short and frequent posts, I know. If I were in america wondering what I was doing, I would be very mad at myself for not just taking some time to update!!!
I had so much to share before xmas time, and now Ive been in like a million places and seen a million things and definitely heard a million (or more) words that I totally did not understand.
Also, Im going to start using the map feature on my flickr account, get excited!!! This means that you will be able to see exactly where the picture was taken on a map! Internet!!!!!
Anyway, since we last talked Ive been to the countryside of france, where people are cuter, and its very quaint and full of cows, Ive travelled to Italy - Novarra, Milan, Verona, Venice... and now I am in Austria, Breggens to be exact and I had an old ladz get mad at me in german bc I walked too slow, and I spent new years eve in Innsbruck, Austria, which is really pretty and in the mountains and I got a cool Tyrolean Hat! I never knew what Tyrolean meant, but now I do!!! I also think that tyrolean hat wikipedia entry needs some TLC courtesy of me.
So yeah, Ill see you blog readers soon(mom, blythe, who else? If you feel like lettin´me know you read my blog, lay a lil' comment on down, I'll be able to tailor my entries to your whims more easily if I know who "you" are)!
Happy 2007!
Wooo! Best year ever!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Madrid – a return to coherence,
and to authenticity!
*note the similarity between me and that bottle dude on the upper right .. hey-o!*
and to discount food and drink consumption!
(and eventually to Lyon!)
I manage to grouch the hostel breakfast fascist into giving us 2 croissants though we were 3 minutes late to breakfast. Take that! I have lived in France, I can grouch my way to what I want with the best of em. I used to nice my way…but I have learned that when in Rome…give the facists enough attitude that they’ll give you a frickin’ croissant! (that reminds me, there’s a student in my class who’s last name is Croissant. Someday he’s gointg to be Mr. Croissant! Can we just think about that?)
Then we go to Placa Del Sol, the main placa in Madrid. Madrid is, by the way, not on a grid system, so its really anyone’s best guess how to get one place to the other. We pretty much stuck to our neighborhood, and a lovely neighborhood it was! And we didn’t do so bad getting’ around, having somewhat navigated the streets of Old City in philly. We tried to go to Placa Real, the big old palace in Madrid…also known as Placa Real(ly Boring and really expensive to go inside), so we took some pictures outside and then wandered to elusive Chatas, a bar recommended by Claudia, but it was closed. So we get little toasty things somewhere else. I specifically asked for tap water, but I actually thought I saw a sea monkey in it. Whatever! Emilie really liked “salomorejo” that was on one of our toasts.
We then wandered to Placa Santa Ana, which I believe is where Hemmingway used to chill. We had beer, and I ate some olives (and they were SO GOOD). We sat next to some guys that Emilie decided were from the Netherlands, or they were Flemish. Emilie’s better at those kooky northern European Nordic languages. I was like,.. ?
Next up was fun with the Hapsburgs at the Prado. Emilie’s history teacher in high school was apt enough to point out that all the Hapsburgs were sortof pasty inbred mutant lookin’ people(come to think about it, did my history teacher mention this? I feel like he would’ve), and there were Hapsburgs to spare at the Prado – and the Hapbsburgs did not disappoint. Also saw the painting that Picasso re-did a million times called, something I forgot. There was a baby Hapsburg prominently featured! In a weird and rather unimpressive twist of fate we saw an old frat guy we both knew from Penn. It was unimpressive b/c he was not and is not awesome, so we were like, hey, fancy meeting you, yeah, peace out creeper. Anyone else we would’ve been like, hey, come jump on our magic carpet ride!
When we left the Prado it was rainin’, but that was ok, b/c bad guys don’t like rain! And we took Huertas back and we found the famed Sanabresa restaurant on the Via Del l’amor di dio or something - recommended by Claudia. We went home, had a beer, I wore the same thing and went to Sanabresa for a meal for 2 including a bottle of house wine for all of 19 euros (I tipped like, 3 euros, too – b/c at 17 euros for 2, I can afford to be a baller!)
Here’s what we had (all of which was delicious, btw):
Lori:
Paella Valencia (there were little baby crabs in it! ?)
Veal and French fries
Tarte helado (ice cream tarte, hey-o!)
Em.
Fried aubergines (eggplants)
Garlic chicken with French fries
Flan with cool little thick sweet whipped cream scoops on either side
We talked, we took our time, we drank our wine, it was just pretty much totally lovely.
We leave and we wander. We take a left. We take another left. We’re probably on huertas. It’s raining. My instincts told me to go to this little place in the middle of a somewhat deserted street, next to a Spanish tailor (I think) storefront.
Turns out this place is awesome, and by far my favorite place of the whole trip pretty much. Its sortof a bull fighting theme, but its not intentionally themed, just looks like the owners like bullfighting, and cool barfronts….unassuming, but cool. Oh I was so loving it! I made Emilie, who was anxious about her outsider status only briefly, order us up some beers. We ended up drinking a couple more sangrias (that they made up in front of us – wine, whiskey, orange juice and some fruity fruits…intense, man) and we soaked up the ambiance. I spotted some Zara-clad lady just kickin’ it with some impromptu flamenco and I knew I had found a good bar.
Though it was mostly a stand around and chill bar, there were dudes busting some virile flamenco moves in between sangrias, and drunker guys just sitting at the bar broodingly clapping to what I imagine was a flamenco rhythm (I KNOW the music was flamenco, but thats about it), though I have yet to understand how that time signature works. Who cares!?
I perfected what I like to call the “Spanish I-have-a-boyfriend face” and only had to use it a couple times and always to good result. Emilie ended up making friends with the two bartenders who loved her, just as I’d promised her when she was worried about our outsider status...what’s not to love about a blonde sweedey sweede who speaks Spanish and her not Spanish (nor Spanish speaking, but I did have a cool hat) friend just inconscpicuously chillin’ all incognito-like? There is no choice but to love that. The drinks were so CHEAP.
It was just really cool.
We wandered away before the place closed, and found the hostel, where Emilie had creepy dreams about the creepers in Goya’s painting of people renouncing Jesus. That painting, and others at the Prado, were fodder for some creepy nightmares, so it was bound to happen.
Ok, so its Friday and we were going to be leaving on a plane for Geneva in the mid afternoon so we wandered to Pull and Bear (like a Spanish urban outfitters) an other places.
Some highlights from English phrases on Spanish shirts include, “Life is short – Live it – Love it – Make it Worth,” “ Retro Explotion” and “Hair New Sound Imagine.” You gotta love that. After this linguistic adventure through the back doors of fashion, we tried to go to Chatas, only to find that it was closed AGAIN. When do Spanish people frickin’ eat lunch? It’s a mystery, it really is.
So instead we went to Taverna de Tirso Demolina…it was a challenge, but it was open, and after some debate amongst our hangry selves (hungry+angry=hangry) --- and after the waitress continuing to speak to me in super speedy Spanish even after Emilie was like, she does not speak Spanish, nada (in Spanish), and I was like, saying god knows what in Fritalian -- we decided on some seriously delicious dishes - ground chorizo peccadillo in some delicious spicy oil something, some fries with an egg on them, and some way good mushrooms in a delish salty oil sauce. Mmm. Hearty, and really the first excellent hangover food I’ve had since arriving on this, the fine continent of my ancestors.
We get back to the hostel, and head for the plane. It took some doing to get to the right gate, but we got there, and we were on the plane! I had tomato juice! Instead of taking 22 hours on a bus/train – it took us 2 hours to get to Geneva, and then only about 1 more hour from Geneva straight to Lyon.
One more night out in Lyon found us drinking extremely alcoholic beers and watching Texas play Baylor in football, meeting some crazy swiss germans, Emilie being adorably but completely wasted at Flemming’s – a place I love b/c the beer is SO COLD, its like wow, Emilie rallying after having consumed 1,000 glasses of water and after having sung some songs of the 80s classics and of the obscure Swedish band persuasion, meeting Hensley and Caroline – best friend friends ever, went to some party where we drank some more wine and danced around vintage Lori-Emilie style, went to French people sing-along/jamming and rock-out time at “Atmosphere” and then bonding with Caroline b/c she was really excited I was sortof southern (! – I love caro, she’s super cool) at “Le Bec de Jazz” – some sortof jazz club where they play Ray Charles and other ray charles-esque artists…where was Otis, I ask?, telling 2 french guys to stop talking shit IN FRENCH (arête de dire tes conneries – so gratifying, even if not altogether grammatically sound)…they got the point/were shocked (one was like, she just said that ?!?) into shutting up about how George Bush this and Iraq that…seriously make it stop, Em had some french DJ named Clement – who felt the need to tell her that he respected women for some reason -- fall in love with her, and somehow Em and I disappeared out the door, wandered into a cab with relative ease (that never happens), made it home safe and we sang a song Emilie wrote about Carlos and Emilie passed out on my floor with her cell phone in her hand.
A night well spent!
What a vacation.
*note the similarity between me and that bottle dude on the upper right .. hey-o!*
and to discount food and drink consumption!
(and eventually to Lyon!)
I manage to grouch the hostel breakfast fascist into giving us 2 croissants though we were 3 minutes late to breakfast. Take that! I have lived in France, I can grouch my way to what I want with the best of em. I used to nice my way…but I have learned that when in Rome…give the facists enough attitude that they’ll give you a frickin’ croissant! (that reminds me, there’s a student in my class who’s last name is Croissant. Someday he’s gointg to be Mr. Croissant! Can we just think about that?)
Then we go to Placa Del Sol, the main placa in Madrid. Madrid is, by the way, not on a grid system, so its really anyone’s best guess how to get one place to the other. We pretty much stuck to our neighborhood, and a lovely neighborhood it was! And we didn’t do so bad getting’ around, having somewhat navigated the streets of Old City in philly. We tried to go to Placa Real, the big old palace in Madrid…also known as Placa Real(ly Boring and really expensive to go inside), so we took some pictures outside and then wandered to elusive Chatas, a bar recommended by Claudia, but it was closed. So we get little toasty things somewhere else. I specifically asked for tap water, but I actually thought I saw a sea monkey in it. Whatever! Emilie really liked “salomorejo” that was on one of our toasts.
We then wandered to Placa Santa Ana, which I believe is where Hemmingway used to chill. We had beer, and I ate some olives (and they were SO GOOD). We sat next to some guys that Emilie decided were from the Netherlands, or they were Flemish. Emilie’s better at those kooky northern European Nordic languages. I was like,.. ?
Next up was fun with the Hapsburgs at the Prado. Emilie’s history teacher in high school was apt enough to point out that all the Hapsburgs were sortof pasty inbred mutant lookin’ people(come to think about it, did my history teacher mention this? I feel like he would’ve), and there were Hapsburgs to spare at the Prado – and the Hapbsburgs did not disappoint. Also saw the painting that Picasso re-did a million times called, something I forgot. There was a baby Hapsburg prominently featured! In a weird and rather unimpressive twist of fate we saw an old frat guy we both knew from Penn. It was unimpressive b/c he was not and is not awesome, so we were like, hey, fancy meeting you, yeah, peace out creeper. Anyone else we would’ve been like, hey, come jump on our magic carpet ride!
When we left the Prado it was rainin’, but that was ok, b/c bad guys don’t like rain! And we took Huertas back and we found the famed Sanabresa restaurant on the Via Del l’amor di dio or something - recommended by Claudia. We went home, had a beer, I wore the same thing and went to Sanabresa for a meal for 2 including a bottle of house wine for all of 19 euros (I tipped like, 3 euros, too – b/c at 17 euros for 2, I can afford to be a baller!)
Here’s what we had (all of which was delicious, btw):
Lori:
Paella Valencia (there were little baby crabs in it! ?)
Veal and French fries
Tarte helado (ice cream tarte, hey-o!)
Em.
Fried aubergines (eggplants)
Garlic chicken with French fries
Flan with cool little thick sweet whipped cream scoops on either side
We talked, we took our time, we drank our wine, it was just pretty much totally lovely.
We leave and we wander. We take a left. We take another left. We’re probably on huertas. It’s raining. My instincts told me to go to this little place in the middle of a somewhat deserted street, next to a Spanish tailor (I think) storefront.
Turns out this place is awesome, and by far my favorite place of the whole trip pretty much. Its sortof a bull fighting theme, but its not intentionally themed, just looks like the owners like bullfighting, and cool barfronts….unassuming, but cool. Oh I was so loving it! I made Emilie, who was anxious about her outsider status only briefly, order us up some beers. We ended up drinking a couple more sangrias (that they made up in front of us – wine, whiskey, orange juice and some fruity fruits…intense, man) and we soaked up the ambiance. I spotted some Zara-clad lady just kickin’ it with some impromptu flamenco and I knew I had found a good bar.
Though it was mostly a stand around and chill bar, there were dudes busting some virile flamenco moves in between sangrias, and drunker guys just sitting at the bar broodingly clapping to what I imagine was a flamenco rhythm (I KNOW the music was flamenco, but thats about it), though I have yet to understand how that time signature works. Who cares!?
I perfected what I like to call the “Spanish I-have-a-boyfriend face” and only had to use it a couple times and always to good result. Emilie ended up making friends with the two bartenders who loved her, just as I’d promised her when she was worried about our outsider status...what’s not to love about a blonde sweedey sweede who speaks Spanish and her not Spanish (nor Spanish speaking, but I did have a cool hat) friend just inconscpicuously chillin’ all incognito-like? There is no choice but to love that. The drinks were so CHEAP.
It was just really cool.
We wandered away before the place closed, and found the hostel, where Emilie had creepy dreams about the creepers in Goya’s painting of people renouncing Jesus. That painting, and others at the Prado, were fodder for some creepy nightmares, so it was bound to happen.
Ok, so its Friday and we were going to be leaving on a plane for Geneva in the mid afternoon so we wandered to Pull and Bear (like a Spanish urban outfitters) an other places.
Some highlights from English phrases on Spanish shirts include, “Life is short – Live it – Love it – Make it Worth,” “ Retro Explotion” and “Hair New Sound Imagine.” You gotta love that. After this linguistic adventure through the back doors of fashion, we tried to go to Chatas, only to find that it was closed AGAIN. When do Spanish people frickin’ eat lunch? It’s a mystery, it really is.
So instead we went to Taverna de Tirso Demolina…it was a challenge, but it was open, and after some debate amongst our hangry selves (hungry+angry=hangry) --- and after the waitress continuing to speak to me in super speedy Spanish even after Emilie was like, she does not speak Spanish, nada (in Spanish), and I was like, saying god knows what in Fritalian -- we decided on some seriously delicious dishes - ground chorizo peccadillo in some delicious spicy oil something, some fries with an egg on them, and some way good mushrooms in a delish salty oil sauce. Mmm. Hearty, and really the first excellent hangover food I’ve had since arriving on this, the fine continent of my ancestors.
We get back to the hostel, and head for the plane. It took some doing to get to the right gate, but we got there, and we were on the plane! I had tomato juice! Instead of taking 22 hours on a bus/train – it took us 2 hours to get to Geneva, and then only about 1 more hour from Geneva straight to Lyon.
One more night out in Lyon found us drinking extremely alcoholic beers and watching Texas play Baylor in football, meeting some crazy swiss germans, Emilie being adorably but completely wasted at Flemming’s – a place I love b/c the beer is SO COLD, its like wow, Emilie rallying after having consumed 1,000 glasses of water and after having sung some songs of the 80s classics and of the obscure Swedish band persuasion, meeting Hensley and Caroline – best friend friends ever, went to some party where we drank some more wine and danced around vintage Lori-Emilie style, went to French people sing-along/jamming and rock-out time at “Atmosphere” and then bonding with Caroline b/c she was really excited I was sortof southern (! – I love caro, she’s super cool) at “Le Bec de Jazz” – some sortof jazz club where they play Ray Charles and other ray charles-esque artists…where was Otis, I ask?, telling 2 french guys to stop talking shit IN FRENCH (arête de dire tes conneries – so gratifying, even if not altogether grammatically sound)…they got the point/were shocked (one was like, she just said that ?!?) into shutting up about how George Bush this and Iraq that…seriously make it stop, Em had some french DJ named Clement – who felt the need to tell her that he respected women for some reason -- fall in love with her, and somehow Em and I disappeared out the door, wandered into a cab with relative ease (that never happens), made it home safe and we sang a song Emilie wrote about Carlos and Emilie passed out on my floor with her cell phone in her hand.
A night well spent!
What a vacation.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Spain - where even dudes like flamenco
subtitle: The rain in Spain stays mainly in Madrid.
I congratulate myself for sneaking around in Html land so that I was able to find out how to post photos from Flickr! There has to be an easier way, but the way I figured out ain't so hard. Gotta brush up the blogging skillz!
I'm on feedburner, too - and no I don't really know what that is yet, but hey. Soon I will.
ANYWAY: At last, the time has come for me to regale you with stories of my time in Spain! Spain:
Barcelona - party-crazed tourists
Madrid - flamenco dancing Spanish dudes sipping sangria in between passionate claps
Guess which one I liked more?
But its not important.
Ok, more to come...
I congratulate myself for sneaking around in Html land so that I was able to find out how to post photos from Flickr! There has to be an easier way, but the way I figured out ain't so hard. Gotta brush up the blogging skillz!
I'm on feedburner, too - and no I don't really know what that is yet, but hey. Soon I will.
ANYWAY: At last, the time has come for me to regale you with stories of my time in Spain! Spain:
Barcelona - party-crazed tourists
Madrid - flamenco dancing Spanish dudes sipping sangria in between passionate claps
Guess which one I liked more?
But its not important.
Ok, more to come...
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