Hellooooo 2011

Well the holidays were lovely in Bordeaux, Niort, and Paris but they were COLD! So instead of a White Christmas like everyone back home I was stuck with super-cold rainy and clear days alternating through the 10 days. In Paris, though, it was pretty puch a steady overcast and cold (now I remember why Versailles was so depressing). But despite the weather we managed to keep the holiday cheer: in Bordeaux we stayed in a cute bed and breakfast owned by a man named Jean-Pierre and his fat gray cat, Chanel. Chanel ate breakfast with us every morning. There in Bordeaux we enjoyed the Christmas market, beautiful Christmas lights, and went to the cinema to see Harry Potter in English. On Christmas Eve we made it out to a small town called Saint Emilion, which is famous for its wine; bottles usually run around 30-40 euros in the rest of the country.

Then after Bordeaux we went to Niort, chez Brita to relax for a few days. There, in Niort, I found a spectacular Karaoke bar called Uncle Sam full of old French townies singing 80s love ballads in French. It was hands-down the most eventful night of my holiday (yes, even beating New Years). So there is this overweight woman in her 30s spilling out of a black satin boustier, drunk as a sailor on leave in Amsterdam. She keeps going behind the bar and pretending to pour drinks for people; lecturing me about how horrible men are and that I should never trust them. All the while, some old lesbians in the back are wailing into a microphone some love ballad, while on the karaoke screen some bizarre video of a man on a motorcycle is playing on a loop. (BTW, the karaoke machine was so old it used records. Not CDs or even 8-tracks, records.) So I pop outside to answer my phone, when an extremely drunk woman in her late 30s comes barreling out the door, then starts crying about her boyfriend. Boustier women comes out to console her, both of them leaning on me (I am, at this moment, very uncomfortable). Apparently, her boyfriend was cheating on her with his ex-girlfriend, so the woman says, "I know! Ill tell him Im pregnant" boustier woman: "thats a great idea, honey, you show him what-for!" It is this moment that I seize the opportunity to slip inside. To close the night, Brita and I sang "Come Together" by the Beatles (as the only English songs they had were by the Beatles), bowed our goodbyes, then woke up early the next morning for Paris.

Paris wasnt terribly eventful; we went shopping, saw the lights on the Champs-Elysées and the windows of the Galeries Lafayette (Broadway show themed this year!!), then ended up in Montmartre for the New Year where we watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle at midnight. Somehow, that will never compare to watching the ball drop in Times Square.

This morning I showed up to work and--surprise surprise--the professor neglected to tell me he wasnt at school. So now Im killing time, about to break this French keyboard because all the letters are in the wrong places and I still cant figure out how to stroke an apostrophe. In any case, Bonne Année to everyone, and Meilleures Veaux!