Regional words and fat Frenchmen

It turns out that Angelina, the venerable tea room on rue de Rivoli in Paris, has an outpost at the Palace of Versailles. Kathryn and I found ourselves there earlier today, enjoying a snack of chocolat chaud africain before finishing our tour of the museum. We were in the tea room all alone — more on why we were alone in a future post — and we had just ordered. As usual, Kathryn let me do the ordering. I think she likes to hear me speak French, even though my French sucks.

It turns out that Angelina, the venerable tea room on rue de Rivoli in Paris, has an outpost at the Palace of Versailles. Kathryn and I found ourselves there earlier today, enjoying a snack of chocolat chaud africain before finishing our tour of the museum. We were in the tea room all alone — more on why we were alone in a future post — and we had just ordered. As usual, Kathryn let me do the ordering. I think she likes to hear me speak French, even though my French sucks. Continue reading “Regional words and fat Frenchmen”

Things you probably don’t know about me

Here’s a list of things you probably don’t know about me. It’s in no particular order.

Here’s a list of things you probably don’t know about me. It’s in no particular order. Continue reading “Things you probably don’t know about me”

Montpellier, France: Donating blood at the Place de la Comédie

I was walking across the Place de la Comédie, and I noticed a sign that there were blood collections going on. I hadn’t given blood since I was seventeen years old, and I hadn’t actually tried since September 11 last year, when I was turned away because of the crowds. I wasn’t in a particular hurry, so I figured I could kill an hour or so giving a pint.

On my way out to do the shopping this morning, I was walking across the Place de la Comédie, and I noticed a sign that there were blood collections going on. I hadn’t given blood since I was seventeen years old, and I hadn’t actually tried since September 11 last year, when I was turned away because of the crowds. I wasn’t in a particular hurry, so I figured I could kill an hour or so giving a pint. Continue reading “Montpellier, France: Donating blood at the Place de la Comédie”

German women, French language, Chinese food

New day, new place. I’m once again passing time on a train, this time bound for Cologne via Hagen.

I had a fun day in Kassel. My friend met me at the train station, and after we dropped my bags off at her place, we saw the city’s beautiful green spaces on foot, including a grueling half-hour walk to a castle perched atop a hill. We earned the ice cream we stopped for. I was surprised by the lack of tourists, since it was such a pleasant setting. Then again, it may have been pleasant because of the lack of tourists.

Later, we went out to dinner with some of her friends. The dinner was a Chinese buffet, and I must say I’ve rarely seen four young women eat so much at one time. I think one of them had six plates. They put me to shame.

At one point, my friend commented that I was the only man out with all these young women. I could do worse, I said. She studies French and math at the university in Kassel, and so most of her friends are classmates who also speak French. In fact, one of them was French. So it was somewhat bizarre that I was out with several young, attractive women, speaking French, at a Chinese restaurant in Germany. It’s not something that happens to me every day.

After dinner, we met some other friends of hers at a bar near her apartment for a drink. One of them did not speak French, and so the tables were turned, as the young women who speak French and German every day now had to speak English, which none of them had spoken in years. I got to be a teacher for a short while.

My friend put her apartment at my disposal, while she slept at a friend’s place nearby, which I thought was particularly generous of both of them. She had to leave early for work, so I didn’t see her this morning. I slept very well and rather late, and I almost missed my train.

I also missed breakfast this morning, and this train has no cafe car, so I am very hungry. Sometimes a regional train like the one I’m on will be serviced by a snack cart at some point. We’ll see. If not, I have a long wait for food. Hagen is still over two hours away, and I only have 11 minutes for my connection, if everything is on time. If not, I’ll have to wait another hour for Cologne.

My plans for tomorrow involve an airplane, which is the only reason I’m going to Cologne. This may be my last long train trip for a while.

Feedback from a correspondent about Odyssea in Montpellier

Many of you know I lived in Montpellier, France, for about a year. I loved being there, and I had a great experience studying there. From time to time, I’m asked to provide a reference to prospective students of the school where I studied, and I’m always happy to do so. Last summer, a young woman called me out of the blue, and we spent a half-hour or so on the phone talking about Montpellier.

Many of you know I lived in Montpellier, France, for about a year. I loved being there, and I had a great experience studying there. From time to time, I’m asked to provide a reference to prospective students of the school where I studied, and I’m always happy to do so. Last summer, a young woman called me out of the blue, and we spent a half-hour or so on the phone talking about Montpellier. Continue reading “Feedback from a correspondent about Odyssea in Montpellier”