Bumbling Americain!

Yesterday was not my finest day as a frenchie. I am ashamed to say that I did not eat delicious bread, cheese, wine, or pastries, no I ate three bags of Bugles de Fromage (yes they have them here too, only they have added cheese) and six, yes six, brownies. And they weren't even fresh brownies from the boulangerie down the street. I ate six brownies from the vending machine. In my defense I am sick with a horrible cold. And the brownies come in packs of three and though they tried, I was never able to truly take the teachings of will power--that Frog and Toad taught me--to heart. Oh wait. I almost forgot the best food aspect of yesterday. I got into a can of pineapple. Without a can opener. I personally have never had a moment where I was filled with such pride. It was just my bare hands, the can, and a butter knife that will never be the same. I have giant purple welt on my wrist from when I finally got through and my unmatchable force sent my arm smashing into the side of the can. Canned pineapple has never, and probably will never again, taste so sweet. That was the most excitement of Sunday. I watched Julie & Julia while I ate my pineapple because my need for cooking is slightly overwhelming and our kitchen smells like someone died in it...last semester. Saturday night was much more fun. I will just say we went to a bar (my first time ever being able to drink in a bar) and I went a little crazy. I mean one whole drink to myself, Paris has clearly turned me into some sort of hooligan. A side note. I am glad I am tall. No I am glad I am smart and choose to wear comfortable boots out instead of every other girl I was with who wore heels. One set literally had spikes coming out of the heels that she impaled her feet on multiple times. When will girls my age learn. Comfort is far better than holes in your feet.
Another side note. When they warn of all the things not to do here, such as not to get in random cars, not to go home with someone you don't know, not to split up, not to walk around by yourself at 4 in the morning when you are a girl, not talk to some guy on the street, etc. I always think that people don't understand that we've all watched Taken. That we are adults, you trust us to live in Paris, you must know that we have better judgment than that you don't have to tell us this over and over and give us a three hour lecture on it for the love of God! Well apparently I am wrong in every way. They DO need to go over these things, though even when they do it seems pointless. Five girls went out together. One ended up losing her friends while trying to get them a taxi, going home alone and buying a new key for her room only to find she had left hers in the door. Another ended up walking around Paris by herself until the trains started running again at 5:30. And I believe three ended up separating from each other and all going home with random guys to their hotels. Not even to do anything just to go there to sleep because they didn't want to walk. Dear God I hope no one from this program finds this blog. They are all fine. I just would think common sense would stop you from getting into any of those situations.
Today, still sick, I decided to take a walk by myself and explore. I just stayed in the 14th, but walked for two hours. Sadly this was not on purpose, but because I forgot that I am supposed to buy a new metro pass because the week pass ended Sunday night. Consequently the tram car doors closed on my head. I got so flustered by its rejection of my card that, though I could have stayed on it and probably would not have been caught, I tried to step off of it backwards and didn't realize the doors were closing and got one on each of my temples. It was painful. More because everyone on the tram watched me as I sulked away down the sidewalk. But I'm glad this embarrassment took place because it made me walk. I loved the fresh air and it did make everything feel better, my head and oddly my cold. I found a big grocery store and mostly just looked around but got a mug for me tea, which I was drinking out of a bowl that was much to shallow to do any real good. When I checked out a went down the wrong line, had to climb over a little metal divider, dropped my stuff in the process (luckily I didn't break the mug) got stuck in between the metal divider and a stroller for long enough that it got awkward, dropped my key, and couldn't bag my stuff before the man who was next in line had already sent his stuff through, mixing the two together. Hence the title of this post. I stopped at my little old lady boulangerie. She is sweet. There is a really fancy one across the street that everyone goes to and the people speak some English, but I go to the one with the better bread that no one goes to and the woman is so sweet, and speaks not a word of English, but we have a nice little relationship. It was only my second time there but she remembered me. She's very patient with my french and speaks slow enough for me to understand and gestures a lot if I don't. She also claps and smiles whenever I say something new in french. I'm going to go to her every time. On my way back my temples were throbbing, my ears were stingy from the cold, I could no longer successfully bend my fingers, it felt like someone was resting a two ton freezer on my lungs, and my knees were starting to do that thing they do in the cold, but I still kept smiling to myself, which I'm sure just furthered the now city wide suspicion that I am daft.
That's all for now. Who reads things this long anymore anywho?