Party like a Frenchy French

So tonight Taryn, Kay and I went to a real French party in Stalingrad (not the town in Russia, silly, the metro stop). It was really nice, our host was lovely and we were served the kinds of snacks one might be served at a 6-year-old's birthday party (marshmallows, kinder eggs, Pringles, etc.) which was adorable and also delicious. We also tried really hard to only speak French to the people there. This worked most of the time, except when people spoke way too fast and I couldn't hear them over the music and I had to say "repète, s'il te plaît, un peu plus lentement" (say that again, please, a little more slowly) several times before I understood. My French is getting so good, though! Just a month ago a Tunisian man in a restaurant was making fun of my accent and grammar, and tonight people actually told me my French was great. How awesome is that? Also, apparently when you walk into a party in France and you don't know anyone, you're supposed to make your way around the room kissing everyone's cheeks to introduce yourself. We did not know this, so our entrance left quite a bit to be desired. Oh well. Next time.

But clearly before we went to the party, Taryn, Kay and I had to put together a classy gift for our host, American style. This obviously involved baking a layer cake for which we had to make a whipped cream (crème Chantilly) frosting with raspberries and strawberries. So fancy, it could have been in the window of a patisserie. Y'all, this cake was SUCH a saga. We had to pool ingredients from all of our houses as well as make two trips to the grocery store to get everything together, then we had to take the cake on the metro from my house to Kay's and then from Kay's to the party. Obviously while Kay carried the cake, I threw some bows at anyone who got too near it (really I just walked ahead of her abrasively yelling "Ben pardon! On a un gâteau!"). Luckily, we made it to the party with the cake and it was delicious and everyone was impressed.

However, the adventure truly began when Taryn and I left the party at about 12:45 to catch the metro home before it closed. I don't know if you know this, but French people get real rowdy on Saturday nights. I saw so many things that were totally chélou (sketchy). For instance, my Puritanical American sensibilities were totally offended by the guy on the escalator in front of me sprinting to the wall, dropping his pants COMPLETELY (like, I saw everything) and peeing on the floor. Now, I've become accustomed to more nudity than is normal in the U.S. here, but it's usually in the form of sunbathing old ladies and weird ads in magazines. I just wasn't ready for it to be sprung on me like that, out of nowhere, without warning. I spent the rest of my metro ride shuddering and rubbing my hands with purell just so I could someday feel clean again.

In other news, Matt came to visit this week! We had a lovely time wandering around Paris when it was sunny and sitting in cafes and consuming far too many pastries every morning. I won't lie, it was possibly my best week here so far. We discovered something so sinfully, absurdly, disgustingly delicious I can't even think about any other kind of food anymore. So when people come visit me, you have to try either a croissant amande or a pain au chocolat amande. These are not just normal pastries. No, they are far more decadent and marvelous given that they not only contain more butter than their normal pastry counterparts, they also contain almond paste and are covered in sliced almonds and powdered sugar. Heaven, I tell you.

I have also discovered than French people DO have a sense of humor. It was hard to find, but it's there. Mostly they're into plays on words (jeux de mots) and light sarcasm, as well as passing judgment on each other. This is very reassuring, as I was coming to the conclusion for a while that the French just aren't funny. I'm glad they are at least a little. It makes them more human even though they're still taller, thinner, cooler and more stylish than any normal person could ever be. I guess if you're all those things, you don't really need to be super funny.

Last but not least, Kay has introduced Taryn and me to a fun new pastime near Gare du Montparnasse: salsa dancing!!! I'm truly atrocious at it, but hopefully I can go take a class next week and pretty soon I'lll be a pro. Between that, power walking with Taryn and possibly taking up yoga, maybe France and all of her croissants amandes won't make me morbidly obese after all. Anyway, this is, as they say, all the news that's fit to print. Hope everyone is well. Gros bisous!