Jeudi?! But I Thought It Was Thursd...Oh.

Living in Paris now, for about one business week, I still feel like I am in some life language simulation program where I can time out and ask questions in English. Never is that more apparent than when I ask a French person to translate the difference between, for example, “sit” (s’asseoir) and “buy” (acheter). The ‘r’ is silent at the end of a word in French, so I find myself saying “may I sit on you face?” when I mean to ask “where is the metro?” language is funny.

I am sitting at a cafe, buying breakfast, which is a chocolate croissant, baguette with jam (cherry lemon), fresh squeezed orange juice and espresso. I don’t know how sustainable this is, but really- I am just embracing life here... if I begin feeling terrible, I will resume starving looking for a protein salad without meat (fish okay) OR I will resume eating meat. I really don’t care. There is no tofu here, at least not that I’ve seen.

I am so lonely that I am begging a tiny dog in this cafe to come visit me... it thought about it, but decides not to (probably because of my French). In better news, I did accidentally spend close to €8 on strawberries last night. As I was forking over the money I commented “expensive” (but in French) and the shop owner went into a lively account of their region, how they are the best you can buy (or sit) and I just commented “d’accord”. “D’ accord” is French for “okay” and that I love saying that and “où est le toillette?” (ooh ay la twah-let)

After a lot more breads, ham, espresso and near tear experiences.... not only have I decided I should rein it in, but all this happened too... please continue reading.

I had another French lesson tonight and my teacher suggested I hang back and retake the course... I am being held back- just like in kindergarten- except, I got WAY more action in kindergarten (little slut). I see a plethora of attractive men- I mean REALLY good looking and my hair is too short and I am sad, so only waiters hit on me. I went up to one restaurant, after class and the waiter told me I have beautiful eyes and that I should try the veal. I said “une petite moo? c’est des enfant?!” I left- he didn’t know me at all- and he was also unattractive... if he was like the guys on the Metro I would have eaten that baby cow raw and from behind. C’est la vie.

I tried making a joke in class tonight where the teacher was going around asking people what they buy in a supermarket (in French, of course) and everyone was talking about food. I was last and I answered “chaussures bon marché”, which means “cheap shoes”. No one got it and I felt like a real stand up comedian. I eventually said “des pommes” which means “apples”... good for me, I got held back because the French like Jerry Lewis and...