Just a few departing thoughts on our trip...
Before our trip, people warned us that Parisians are rude to Americans. We found out from our experience that it's completely untrue- Parisians aren't rude to Americans, they're indiscriminantly rude to everyone. Don't get me wrong, Parisians are rude, but not in a mean-spirited way. They're just rude in the I'm-too-busy-to-worry-about-anyone-but-myself kinda way, much the same as New Yorkers or Hong Kongers or any big city dwellers. And yes, some Parisians do look at you like you're stupid and not worthy of their time since you don't speak French- but it's not so different from what I experienced here in America when we first moved here from Hong Kong and don't speak the language.
So there you are, we've met the kindest, most gregarious cab driver, we've met the snootiest salesladies at LV ("touching of the merchandise is forbidden"), we've met the sweetest schoolchildren who got all giggly practicing English with us, and we've met the pushiest family who could win an Olympic gold for Line-Cutting. None of it is attributable to Frenchness or being Parisian. It's called human nature. I bet you can find all of the above personalities in every corner of the world, just disguised in different hair color, different accents, maybe different outfits, but probably the same stuff inside.
Another observation is how the French is completely obsessed about the quality of their food. Parisians just do not put up with crappy food and sell out to quantity (like we do). And one of the delicacy they seem to particularly favor is blood. Pork blood, duck blood, bat blood, you name it, you'll find it on a menu (OK, bat blood was made up). Anyway, it's so ubiquitous that I decided to try it out one day (which isn't quite as appalling as it sounds, we Chinese eat plenty of blood pudding as well).
And here's what I got:
Pork blood sausage (boudin noir) with grilled apples. Not even the fact that it's arranged in a bloody smiley face could cheer me up after I ate it... Not that it taste bad or anything, in fact, it's quite tasty, but after a few bites and you look down on the plate and see all that black, mushy, coagulated blood and think about where it came from and where the few missing bites are now, it literally made me sick... The lesson here? Don't ever think about what you're eating.
Having had enough blood to last me the rest of my life, I decided to go for something more traditional the next meal. Simmered cabbaged stuffed with meat and bathed in a tasty broth- totally unassuming, the best French comfort food before stepping out to a cool Parisian night
Left: Vietnamese spring roll (or rouleau de printemps if you're French) Right: roasted goat cheese salad, followed by cheese in your main dish and cheese for dessert (no amount of Lactaid will help you here)
And what's the Brit's answer to all those French gourmet food? Maltesers! (as you can tell I absolutely adore it)
And finally, some completely random pictures that just don't fit anywhere else...
We were at this department store in Paris called Printemps, where they were selling these 400+ euro leather helmets. Doesn't it make me look suddenly stylish and irresistable? (My hubby thinks so)
Speaking of my hubby, we actually spotted his long-lost brother (the other one) while having tea in London's Harvey Nicks. Seriously, they've got to be related, he just doesn't know it yet.
Rows of Vespas on a cobblestone street, soooo Parisian... (now all you need is a 400 euro helmet)
I think this sign at the airport says "Fake croc, real risk", or "Let's kill all those evil Chinese bootleggers!"
"Dear Bryson, wish you were in Paris with us. Here you can walk into any restaurant and be treated like a VIP. You might even meet a nice French poodle. Never mind, scratch the poodle. They may harbor French fleas..."
What, you taking a picture of me? I had no idea...
That's all folks, au revoir!
