Valentine's Day Weekend: Scots, Rugby, and Food other than Hamburgers

I haven't had the chance to write down the madness that was Valentine's Day weekend, so I will do that before posting about my exciting time in Florence, because it is worth it to have recorded for posterity. Friday the 13th was spent at the American bar (once again with Everlast dutifully serving the drinks). Before meeting there, Jaime and I tried to eat at this soul food place in the area, only to find that it was a grocery store. It may have been like the French "Cracker Barrel" with a store in the front and restaurant in the back, but it did not look like it. With little time left before we were supposed to meet up, we did the only thing we could - we went and got burgers. Granted, they were good, but I may need to swear off the burgers for awhile after I leave Paris. That and anything with ham. Anyway, the burgers were good, we made it to the bar and met with Joe and Graham. Laura and Art (two other H-Francers and generally good people) also showed. It was decided at one point that we should go downstairs to play beer pong, since the bar had to be the only place in Paris where one could do that. Joe, Art, and Jaime are seasoned vets at the game, but I, not being a beer drinker, have never played. Laura and Graham were also not quite up to the game, but since we needed teams, I agreed to play if Joe would drink all the beer. I think it turned out worse for him than he thought because he did not know the skill he was up against with Jaime. I played one game, sunk one ball, and was done. Joe was determined to win, and ended up playing and drinking four games worth of beer, all for naught. He could not beat the tag team of Jaime and Art. At the end of the night, the bartender bought us shots and we were on our way after agreeing to meet up the following night at the Highlander for more good times.

Valentine's Day was an event unto itself. While most of the day was spent doing the usual cleaning and laundry, we had two gatherings to attend - a dinner party at Sam's and then a "farewell to Laura" event at the Highlander (Laura went to Germany for a bit, but will be back in April). First up was Sam's. I procured a delightful looking bagette, Jaime got wine and strawberries and over we went. Sam was a gracious host and we got to meet the lovely Valeria who interns for Dior (I need to get my hands on some freebies!), but everyone else was running rather late. This would not have been a problem if we didn't have to leave to meet the other group at the Highlander AND if the person who was bringing the food wasn't also one of the ones who was late. 8:45 rolls around (the event was set for 7pm) and no one else is there and we had to leave - without eating, which was a problem since the Highlander does not serve food. We grabbed some goods out of the vending machine, proceeded to watch some dancing by a 12 year old, who was very good, and made it to the Highlander to discover that our friends were not there, but a group of about 20 Scots in full kilts were. After hearing a rousing chorus of The Proclaimer's hit "500 Miles" and meeting an American who is in Paris playing football, we desperately needed food and thus headed to the Moose where we were able to get some quesadillas and thus keep from passing out.

It is at this point that the night took an interesting turn. We returned to the Highlander, the Scots were still there and even sang another chorus of The Proclaimers before busting out the bagpipes and singing derogatory songs about the English. Sitting at the bar and watching soccer, Jaime was approached by a very friendly young man named Ali who did not speak any English. He chatted her up before introducing himself to me and seemed very pleasant. A little too pleasant, as it turned out. Being Valentine's Day, I think Ali got caught up in the romance of the day as he turned to each Jaime and I in turn to whisper "Je t'aime" or "I love you." I informed him that I was married, thinking that would get me off the hook, but he replied "Pas de problem" and said something to the effect of life being short. I emphasized that my status was indeed a problem for anything he might be thinking of and after a little more back and forth, I think he got the hint - which was good for me, but bad for Jaime as he got even more friendly with her, "dancing" with her, which really just involved shaking her about like a doll. When he got a little too handsy, it was time to get out of there. As Jaime had found out in the course of conversing that he lived on our metro line, running out the door was not an option. So, we went downstairs to the other part of the bar and buddied up with the female bartender from the Bronx, a lovely girl who was a big help. Persistent Ali got the hint and left and we were done with him, or so we thought. As we were crossing the street to get to the metro stop, he appeared out of nowhere and asked Jaime for her number. After telling him that she literally did not have a phone, he left. (Postscript : Ali would be spotted again by Jaime on Wednesday in the Post Office, but hopefully never again).

Sunday was a more leisurely day spent taking in the city. Found a nice little brunch spot were I had some eggs benedict that were pretty good although the bacon was less than stellar. After that, we went to another Irish bar to watch some rugby (Italy vs Ireland) and what a violent sport that is! More fun to watch than soccer, in my opinion, but violent as hell. It was a blowout by the Irish, but the commentator was not impressed and went on and on about how the Irish need to step up their game. High standards, I suppose.

All in all, an interesting weekend, although it was kind of depressing to be in a beautiful city such as Paris on Valentine's Day without Dan. Next up will be the happenings this week, which included Florence, Italy, but that will have to wait for tomorrow...

This weekend

While most of this week was spent doing the usual archival work, and was thus uneventful, Saturday night was rather exciting as there was a dinner party at the apartment. The party was set in motion on Monday night when we were at trivia for the second week in a row. Jessica, the au pair that was there the previous week, was there again and she introduced us to her friend Sam, a Moroccan who lives in Paris, and it was determined that Saturday should be a get together at our place for food and wine. The party plans were very tentative in terms of what to eat, and we actually didn’t know what we were eating until Sam and Jessica showed up. Jaime put herself in charge of appetizers and fried rice and stir-fry veggies, and I volunteered to get the dessert from the local pastry and bread shop that I love. They put the desserts in the cutest little box that I plan to keep. Sam and Jessica showed with veal, lots of wine, and chocolates. Sam had a “couch-surfer” from South Korea who also joined and since she did not speak much English, so it was a good way to practice my French beyond my usual three or four phrases. Sam, who speaks both French and English, was very helpful in correcting me and I was able to communicate fairly well. All in all, everyone had a fabulous time and I’m looking forward to doing it again.

Today was spent sleeping in and heading up to the Montmartre area, which is where the Moulin Rouge is. It’s the red-light district of Paris and thus filled with exactly what you would expect to be there. We found a lovely Irish pub to have lunch and take in some soccer and I partook in some fish and chips. The bartenders, as most bartenders tend to be in Irish/Scottish pubs, were great fun, but weren’t Irish. One was Dutch and the other was Swiss. The Dutch guy was a trip, he put on a Ween album and was singing along and let us ask questions to his magic 8 ball. I find the bartenders to be very nice here as they at least try to make conversation with you. The cafes are a little stuffier in that respect. I would go back to the pub, for sure.

One thing that I’m not pleased about is the fact the owner of the apartment informed me that my phone card access number was a charge number. So beyond paying for the phone card, I was paying per minute that I used the card to the tune of 35 euro. While it could have been worse, and I am thankful to the owners for giving me the heads up on the charges, I’m still pissed. But, that’s not really a slight against the French as it is against the phone card company. Anyway, I found a different number that I don’t think has charges, so I’ve been using that.

I’ve been here a month and while some things are getting easier, such as riding the metro everyday and navigating the archives, I’m starting to miss things more. I miss driving my car so much. I miss being around my friends and family and Dan. I enjoy meeting the new people, but in a way it makes me miss everyone else even more. Anyway, I’m getting by and I hope all is well back home!