Mind the Gaffe

So, your globe-trotting correspondent is now back in Paris after two weeks of fresh air, sunshine and snow in the lovely Alps. I must say, travel to and from was easier than I expected. The TGV is pretty amazing. Incidentally, TGV stands for Trains a Grande Vitesse, or really fast trains. Turns out, they go so fast that sometimes they make your ears pop and prevent you from getting a solid cell phone signal. In the case of my journey, the train was also inhabited by a large number of cranky old people who, for some reason or another, did not find a four-year-old's loud rendition of the Animaniacs theme song (in French and occasionally substituting "caca" for words he forgot) amusing or cute. Honestly, the nerve of some people.

While I was in the Alps, I had the distinct honor of being invited to a dinner party hosted and attended by French people. Everyone spoke only French to each other and to me (as one would expect), and as soon as I got over how weird their accents were (they were from the south of France), I totally joined in the conversation. Some things you should know: in France, it is entirely acceptable to discuss politics and the state of the world and things like that at the dinner table, especially if you are of the opinion that "Sarko" is just messing things up and Carla Bruni is trash; it is not, however, advisable to discuss money or anything pertaining to anything related to money. One of the men at the table committed the inexcusable gaffe of trying to talk to me about the state of the American higher education system, specifically how expensive universities are and how in debt everyone is when they graduate. I thought the women at the table were going to faint or slap him or both. It will please my readers to know, however, that I did kiss everyone's cheeks upon entering the room as I was introduced, so I was not the object of censure (this time).

Seriously though, I'm really glad to be back in this city that I'm coming to regard as home. This can be demonstrated by the fact that, because I didn't have to work today, I laid in the bed until 5:30 reading Atlas Shrugged and experiencing feelings of bitterness against Ayn Rand before I realized that I had eaten nothing but granola bars all day because I had no food in the house. I did manage to drag my lazy butt to the grocery store, helped along by the raspberry macaron that I bought along the way at my friendly neighborhood patisserie. Incidentally, if you're even in Paris and poor (story of my life), I recommend shopping at Ed or Franprix. Inno and Monoprix (which I think might actually be the same store with a different name) are too classy for me.

Now I'm home, back in bed (with food this time) and eager to get back to my grapples with Ayn Rand and everything she entails. A la prochaine!