My first blogpost in a while

They told me it would happen.  but I didn't listen. They told me to make a conscious effort on the blogosphere or it would cast me aside like so much out-of-date brioche (my breakfast-lunch-dinner today incidentally). 

So here I am, with two months worth of things to write about and no idea where to begin. I think I'll just start in the middle (that's always a good place to start right?)

Time of my life

No kidding, these last couple mois have probably been the best of my vie, and let me tell you I'm not one prone to exaggeration. Literally the BEST of my life guyz, like seriously. (OK maybe I exaggerate a bit.)

It included my first music festival, first live sports event, first alcoholic beverage and first French film (only kiddin' on that third one). I know what you're thinking though, how had I never done those things before?!

Me and my plastic cup full of er...water.

The highlight of Rock En Seine (the music festival) had to be my little adventure getting in. 

Having decided that paying 7 euros for a drink was a bit ridicule, I decided to smuggle in a bottle of (probably bootlegged) substance from my local corner shop, Now I've had my fair share of brushes with the law but the patdown at the entrance to the festival felt like it lasted 5 minutes. On second thought I have been working out, so maybe the guy just wanted to see what a real man feels like. I don't know, I'm not a psychic. 

Either way, it turned out to be a good idea hiding the bottle in a rather private place (say no more). Getting it out was a rather delicate matter. Plunging my hand into ny shorts in front of the queue at the hot dog stand was interesting to say the least.

Oh, and I guess Green Day weren't bad either.

The British Invasion

Since my last blog-post Paris has been invaded, nay, infested by British people. Yes British students, with our adorable tea-consuming, tourist-y, binge drinking  habits. Bringing British culture to France, five shots at a time.

Goddamn tourists eh...

The only problem with this is that I seem to be spending about 84% of my time speaking in English, even though I spend about 76% of my life at the (very French) office. Don't question the maths, just go with it.

I've decided just going to have to make a concerted effort to meet French people. Although sometimes with my limited vocabulary I tend to panic, leading to situations like below:

Intern 1: So did you guys get up to much over the weekend?

Intern 2: Yeah I went back to Brussels to visit my parents and dog, it was pretty fun

Me (having done lots, but not knowing how to put it into French on a Monday morning): Yeah so speaking of weekends, how do you both feel about Hollande's presidency compared to Sarkozy's?

Interns 1+2: ....

Well that's it for today folks, I'm back on the blogosphere now though so keep your eyes peeled for another post in the next few days/weeks/months. (Delete as appropriate) 

Look sharp.

Peace from Paris.

My first drinks in Paris

So I went out for the first time in Paris today. The term might conjure images of...well it might not conjure any images at all if a certain substance features heavily. Binge-drinking aside, the French (unfortunately or fortunately) seem to have a much more reserved and cultured idea of sortir. That being said, all I did was grab a few drinks at a bar so I might be being unfair to French night-life, we'll see.

Cheering up a cashier

So after having a few drinks with an old friend, I made my way home but not before stopping at the local supermarché to pick up some dinner. Perhaps it was the fact that I'd had a pretty good day or maybe the cocktails were catching up to me (more probable), but I was feeling rather buoyant as I strolled in so I thought I'd strike up a conversation with the miserable-looking cashier. She didn't seem impressed as I greeted her with 'Bonjour Monsieur' then proceeded to forget all my pre-constructed 'spontaneous' small talk. Time to retreat - some battles are best fought another time, and also in a language you know.

The pot de départ

Three of the five interns at the company are leaving this week so we had a little farewell party at the office today. 

Free food, drink and forced conversation

After a few short speeches, people started trickling out until it was pretty much the youngest five in the office left. When the adults are away, the interns will play; most of the two bottles of champagne was consumed by our generation today. Stereotypes are a wonderful thing. This was also the first time I'd properly socialised with the colleagues, and they're not so bad after all (despite the Frenchness). The French are people too, who knew?

Otto's leaving means I'll have more work to do but on the plus side, I get a sweet desk out of it. Like I said, life's a game of give and take.

Monsieur Badrinath can't take your call right now, he's busy posing for a photo

My Metro experiment

Yes, it's another paragraph on the metro. Not a critique today but just an experiment I'm going to try out. Since everyone on the metro looks like they're at a funeral (maybe one for personal space), I've decided I'm going to try and look as cheerful as I possibly can  when I'm on the train from now on. My own little rebellion against miserability.

The face that will bring cheer to the metro/get me arrested

A note on awkwardness

I thought I should quickly address the issue since our generation seems obsessed with the term. If you think you know awkward, think again. There's nothing worse than an awkward situation in another language. Not only can you barely make conversation but you can't pre-empt any awkwardness because you don't have the linguistic skill. This was painfully obvious at the leaving party; if you're me you just point out the closest thing you know the French word for. 

So in a lull in converation, I randomly blurted out "tomate".

Peace from Paris.