Tuesday, 12 October 2010

Santorum

Right. Internet packed up chez moi, so I’m having to fill you all in using a French keyboard. Proper weird, in all honesty. I do believe I left you on Thursday? I’d like you all to know that I just spent ages looking for that question mark. Actual proper ages.
Thursday was an OK day in all, work was a welcome relief after the Hell that was last Wednesday. My friend arrived on Thursday to crash in my flat, replace my organised chaos with decorum and otherwise raise a few giggles over the course of the weekend. In true student fashion, the first thing we did was open the 1 euro 39 bottle of wine that was sat in my kitchen, and sink the lot. After getting our thirst on we went in search of more, getting directions to a Chinese takeaway from one of the local drug dealers, ignoring them, and finding an off licence type establishment, one that sold us some more dirt cheap alcohol. A quick game of “guess the nationality” resulted in the man saying “oh you should have said, I speak English!” 
This is something that is really starting to wind me up about being so close to Paris. If you show even a hint of struggling, one of two things happens; they get annoyed with you and end the conversation as swiftly as possible, or they insist on carrying out the remainder of the conversation in English. It’s okay at first, but when you’ve been in a country for three weeks and are struggling to notice much improvement in your language it becomes somewhat irritating.
Anyway. Friday, I was at work, except when I arrived there wasn’t actually anything for me to do, and tout le monde just thought I’d shown up to get my ugly mug into their school photo. No chance. After helping in, or rather imposing on, two English classes and a rock climbing class (yeah they’ve got a wall here – awesome or what?) I swiftly disappeared back into my flat to “check on my friend”, which is where I stayed until going out that night.
We went into Paris and swiftly began drinking, as you do. Went between a few different places, one of which was actually a bakery, another of which needed rebranding as “bar grand-mère” and one where we found ourselves in an impromptu staring contest with the threesome on the other side of the club. I mean threesome in more than one sense of the word. The rest, I am leaving to your imagination.
By the way – the night bus back to Corbeil-Essonnes is stupidly long. By the time we got home it was approaching 7am, we left the club at half 3 as I had drank myself sober and half-way to sleep. You can probably guess, Saturday was spent asleep, venturing out only to fill our faces on horrendous fast food.
Sunday was meant to be a day for sightseeing, so we went to Paris and started looking at things, stumbling upon an attempted flash mob being held by a group campaigning against the reinstatement of the death penalty. Is this even an issue in France? I am not sure, but their dance sucked, and I didn’t join in, instead thinking maybe they should bring back the death penalty for people who dance in such a shocking fashion in public.
Few more pictures and we were bored again, so we got some food and spent the next few hours drinking (such a bad influence on me!) before heading home via Quick, the skank fast food restaurant that doesn’t live up to its name in any way whatsoever.
On Monday my English club started, and I had a grand total of 1 student. Yeah, go me.

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