It's Blogalicious

So, there are a few stories I have to offer up to you this fine day in Nice. Some will make you laugh. Some will make you cry. Some will make you wish you were here. But they all will certainly make you miss me. Ok. Maybe not.

Que veut dire ‘You’re fat!’ en francais ?

So, if it wasn’t bad enough having a bartender tell me that I had a ‘pouch’ to make me think I was the fattest thing to come to Nice since Santa Claus, the other day I went to work wearing this cute white sweater I have. And I have been eating healthy foods as of late (with the HUGE exception of this weekend), but I was actually feeling pretty good. That was until my last class before lunch. So as I was leaving all the students were giving me their customary hugs and cheek kisses and saying ‘bon apetit’. And then one of the boys comes up to me and goes ‘So and so thinks you’re pregnant…are you pregnant?’. And at first I laugh because it just sounds so bizarre. But then I realized the horrifying truth behind this statement. My previously implied pouch looks like an incubator for a baby! I AM fat!

I then texted Sapna asking her if I am fat enough for my students to think I was preggers, and her response was ‘kids say the darndest things’. Which is what my mom reiterated. And everyone else, too. So, that justification got a little old. But I studied my naked belly that night, and realized that I do not, in fact, look pregnant. But just to be safe, I am never wearing that white sweater again.

The Super Obedient Dog

So just when you think you have seen next to everything there is to see, the other day I was walking down town and I look over and I see a dog…a dog who is walking himself. His owner was walking in front of him, but the dog was wearing a leash. But the part of the leash that the owner is supposed to hold is actually in the dogs mouth. It looked so funny and strange at the same time. I wish I had a picture. A picture of the dog taking himself out for a piss.

The Indian Adventure

So, as you may or may not know, my friend Sapna is Indian. And as you may or may not know, I like Sapna. And as you definitely know, I like food. So the next logical thing I would like would be an infusion of Sapna and food. Enter Taj Mahal, an Indian restaurant by the Port here in Nice. I have been craving Indian food, maybe since the day I met Sapna (which just sounds horribly wrong), but we finally decided to make a date out of it along with another assistant, Renee. So we went to this restaurant where Sapna schooled us on what would be good, along with some pointers from the incredibly patient waiters.

For starters I had this pastry thing, which was dough with meat inside that was minced up finely. It was really good, but just tasted a little like hummus to me, which I know is a ridiculous statement, but I am sticking to it.

Then, I went with the basmati and vegetables, which was also reallllly delicious, except for this one thing which I can’t even begin to describe. But it looked like a raison, and was steaming, so I figured it would be delicious. But I put it in my mouth, and it was hard and seeds poured out of it onto my tongue when I bit into it (which also may have cracked my teeth a little). I pretended to have a runny nose, but instead graciously put the spice (incognito raisin) into my tissue.

I was pretty full at this point, but I needed my Indian dessert fix. So I ordered this sampler of Indian desserts. Everything tasted so unique and not comparable to anything I have ever tried before, but sooooo delicious. There were 4 mini desserts, and each of them was soo different in consistency, flavor, and even temperature. But really amazing. Way cooler than the pistachio ice cream the other 2 got.

Finally, as we were walking out, Sapna asked the waiter if they had any blah blah blah, I couldn’t tell you what the word was if you paid me a million dollars. Just then did he realize that our friend was Indian. But he breaks out this jar of this stuff, which is an after dinner thing, which is supposed to help you with digestion. It looks like oats or something. So I took a little bit, and I seriously felt like I was eating a berry tree. There were little sticks in the mix, and I was chewing incessantly for a good 10 minutes. I would forego that aspect the next time.

But, all in all, it was quite fun and delicious. I would recommend the Basmati with vegetables to you all. And Indian desserts.

The After-Indian Delight

We were already feeling pretty good after our meal and wine, so we decided to go downtown since we were so close anyway. So the three of us went to MaNolan’s which turned out to be creep central that night. So we just chilled at a table with our wine. But then this old guy approaches us and tells us how Sapna is from North Africa. She is not. But he wasn’t having it. So we just lied to him and told him we didn’t speak French and were from England. Back to that later.

Then another guy approached us and we told him we were from Japan. He wasn’t buying it, and I was kicking myself for my horrible impromptu lie. But then this other guy approached us with his friend, so I told him an elaborate lie how we were just in Nice for the night after doing a short European tour. I told him I was just in Spain in Barcelona, and he asked me where I went so I didn’t know any places so I said ‘we were stuck in the hostel the whole time.’ Then I told him we were all from Canada, and that Renee was a dancer, and we were teachers. But we didn’t know any French. But then the creepy old man came back so I said ‘this is my French boyfriend’, and he played along making the old man actually leave us alone. And then he goes on to tell us all these places we have to see before we leave…he was basically being sooo nice, and here I was lying to him. When he left the table, we all were saying how badly we felt, and I was feeling badly on two levels for lying to him, and for suddenly being so good at it.

But anyway, a few minutes later we started dancing and he came over and started talking to us more, and I was like ‘ok…confession time. We live here.’ So he goes, “really?” So, then he goes ‘So you just got back from Barcelona?’ Me: “No.” Him: “But you’ve been traveling?” Me: “Uh, no.” Him: “But you just got here right, since you don’t speak any French.” Me: “Um, je parle un peu de français…”. Him: “Haha. Ok.’’ –5 minutes later--. Him : ‘You know I lived in Canada, too.’ Me: looking down at ground ‘Uh, yeah, about that…’. But we talked for the rest of the night, and he turned out to be super nice. In Nice. And forgiving about all the lies. He’s French, too, and was saying how he understands how girls would want to lie to the creepy Frenchmen.

My New French Friend: The Travel Guide

So, a couple days later my new French friend called. And we made plans for yesterday to go hiking. I warned him I would be holding him back, but he was all about the hiking. So he has a car, which was pretty awesome, because he took me all around the Riviera to these places I always wanted to see, but couldn’t easily get to. So he took me to this place called Ville Franche first. It was awesome. We climbed on this path that goes through the mountain. And you’re on top of this mountain but overlooking the Mediterranean. It’s pretty incredible.

Then he took me to this place called Èze, where there is a chateau that you can climb, so we did a quick climb up on top of that. It was not as cool, but still pretty nice.

Then he took me to this town that is right next to Monaco. It was around sunset time, and there is this place that translates to ‘Gold Horn’ because during sunset the light reflects off the sea, making the sea look…yes, you guessed it, gold. We climbed to the top of this little mountain, and if you look left you overlook all of Monaco. And then if you take a few steps to your right and look over the edge you overlook Nice. It was so beautiful. And the weather couldn’t be any more perfect for the beginning of February. Definitely something worth seeing. And the hike turned out to be a great time, and he was a great tour guide, being very knowledgeable on the history of the area. The conversation was also good, until he was like “What was the name of your friend…you know, the dancer…?”

The Superbowl…the French Way.

Sapna’s Bears were in the Superbowl yesterday, and they actually showed it on TV here in France. So I had a TV and she had to watch it, so I decided to make a party out of it. A party which turned out to be me and Sapna. We’re awesome. So she got here and before the game even started we had already finished the huge plate of bean dip she made, the plate of dip that I made, baguette pizza, and we were starting on the Salsa. Oh, and there were lots of cookies.

So the game started here at midnight (at which point I was already starting to get really tired), but it was hilarious. The pregame show here is completely different. Instead of giving information on the teams, and player bios, and stuff like that, they were explaining American Football to the French. They were talking about ‘Le touchdown’, ‘Le quarterback,’ and ‘le cointoss’. The best part was when they showed the field though, and then across the screen there was a big box that said 10 yards = 9.4 meters. Somehow that struck us as quite amusing. Anyway, with nasty beer in hand, we started watching the game. Then I took a nap the second period, only to wake to find Prince performing the Foo Fighters while wearing an Aunt Jemima head rag. That just didn’t seem right.

Then we watched the rest of the game, somewhat lifelessly, until 4:30 AM. But it was still a good time. My friend Didier called at 1:30 to ask if the party was still going on. It wasn’t heartening explaining that the party wasn’t a party, but more like a slumber party. Actually, just a slumber. But a fun one at that…

So…that’s about it. Which, was actually a lot. I miss you all very much, and hope you keep sending e-mails and stuff!!!

Hope you all had a good weekend and a food-filled Superbowl Sunday (so I can feel a little less guilty).

XOXOX
Dina