Parle Vous Un Croissant?

I don't speak French, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

We took the bullet train to Paris today, which was not nearly as cool as it sounds. The thing books though, it moves so fast that it creates these weird shockwaves that make your ears pop like every 10 minutes. That was kind of annoying. Paris is a very interesting place, pretty different from London. I haven't seen too much of it yet but it certainly is beautiful. I could write about that aspect of it, but I think my mom's picture post will probably do it better justice. 

There has been no shortage of good food here, we had surprisingly good  Italian food last night. I had some tasty smoked eel and beets as a starter, a blended strawberry champagne aperitif, and a taglierini with little brown shrimp and basil as my main course. It was all fantastic, and I seriously overate. But what else is new?

Today we had tapas for dinner, including but not limited to two types of gazpacho, stuffed squid, green bean salad with pickled peaches and radish, tuna wrapped in ham, and beets. It was all fantastic. Maybe I will go into more detail later.

I had a good time walking around with my siblings today after dinner - we decided to walk around down by the river by our hotel (which is very cool, I'm sure some pictures will be posted) because we saw that was where the french youth were hanging out. They were out in force. It was really cool actually, groups of friends would set out blankets along the river with food and wine playing guitar and singing. It would have been a blast if I had any idea how to speak French. Most of them were singing in English actually, one group were singing Nirvana's "Rape Me" loudly enough for us to hear them across the river. It went something like this:

(in a French accent)

I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE

AAAAAAAH I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE

AAAAAAAH I'M NOT THE ONLY ONEEE

mumble mumble mumble

mumble

rape meee

mumble

I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE

Which was probably a good idea as the group was mostly women and the riverside was moderately sketch. I wish I could have joined in the party, it seemed like so much fun, but it was very much segregated into groups and I doubt any of them really wanted the company of some Americans who don't even know how to order a drink at the park properly. At least I'm trying I guess.

The other thing about Paris is that there are people making out everywhere. And I'm not exaggerating, the only place where I haven't seen people devouring each others faces was the restaurant we ate dinner at and my hotel room. I bet if I looked down at the pub across the street I could see some in ten seconds flat. They all seem to be chanting things now, so maybe they are taking a break from the makeout sesh(s). Not that it bothers me or anything, it's just very different from America. I'm all for it really.

I am not, however, for the NO FUN ALLOWED rules they have at their parks. We went out for a walk to a huge park close to the hotel (the name is escaping me for now, I'll ask my mom and edit it later so it looks like I actually know what I'm talking about) and decided to sit down on a particularly nice piece of grass while Zach strummed some pleasant tunes on his guitar. It was really nice, there were pretty clouds and I swear it was the most comfortable grass I have ever laid on. And I've laid on my fair share of grass. Yet just as we are starting to get comfortable a French policeman comes up to us and says "Sorry no music in the park." This I can kind of understand, I guess they don't want panhandlers crowding up their parks or something. But then he adds "Oh and you can't sit on the grass either, you'll have to leave". Why do you have huge fields of comfortable grass if we're not allowed to sit on them? WTF homme? That was really lame.

All in all, things are pretty great though. I really want to cook... These meals have been pretty inspirational. It's going to be weird coming back home. But at least I'll be of "mayor edad en los eeuu" when I get back. I've got plans. Big plans.

Day Two: London: Rock and Roll

This afternoon we went on a Rock walking tour in Soho with Richard Porter, Beatles and London Rock history expert. We walked for three hours listening to fascinating if a tad long-winded stories about the halcyon days of R & R in London. (I simply cannot pass up an opportunity to use the word halcyon.) Our guide was single-minded and rapt in his delivery of the information. Zach described him as "not doing much to go against the stereotype of English teeth." This is a true statement. It is crazy imagining a time when Jimi Hendrix and The Who would jam together weekly at a small nightclub, the Marquis. Zach really enjoyed Denmark street and its many vintage guitar shops. We ended at Abbey Road, because you kind of have to, right?

Day Two: London: Education

This morning Audrey and Zach decided to chillax at the hotel, so Brad, Alex, and I headed out to the National Gallery for a short visit. It is a lovely space. We saw some famous paintings including Van Gogh's "Sunflowers." We also saw children being educated. The three of us watched enraptured as a woman walked a group of middle school girls into an understanding of a quite complicated religious painting. The girls analyzed the painting and collectively came up with a good dozen words to describe its tone. No one was texting. No one was passing notes. I sensed that these girls valued the process in which they were engaged. This scene was both inspiring and incredibly depressing. In the good ol' U S of A, the powers that be would scoff at such a scene as a frivolous undertaking that leaves children behind. At my school, we are program improvement which means, in No Child Left Behind terms, that all of my freshmen are looking at a sophomore year of double English, double math, history, and science. No music. No art. No drama. In short, no anything that actually teaches thinking. Rote memorization, anyone? Well, excuse me if I rebel. I'm not leaving my students behind. There will be art, drama, and music in my classroom next year because if I don't give it to them, no one will. These poor kids are dying on the vine and our system of education is a large part of the problem.

On Being Pumpkin

The beauty of being equated with pumpkin is there just isn't much to say afterwards and certainly much less to do. I mean really, where can you go from there? The key is recognizing the pumpkin all around you.

Like tonight at dinner, at a fantastic Thai restaurant that we stumbled across while learning the minute details (not to be confused with the minute steak sandwich, which at the Renaissance Chancery Court turns out to be a 12 ounce rib steak... eff the "minute" mate, this is England!) or London's rock history (which turns out not to be minute either). Anyway, back to the restaurant: we are standing in line, pardon, the queue, for Busaba while perusing the menu and what should appear but Butternut and Pumpkin Curry. Needless to say, it was ordered. Happy to report, it was amazing. Relieved to know that come the end of summer, when the shipments of butternut squash and pumpkin from Two Small Farms coincide with the harvest from the backyard, we'll have another delicious way to address the onslaught.

Day One: London

The morning of our first day was spent in recovery mode. Audrey really had a rough time of it, so I hung out with her while the guys wandered around. A little after noon, I forced her into the shower and dried and styled her hair while she posted her last blog entry.



Pics from the guys' walk:





The guys returned and we headed down to the hotel lounge for cupcakes and tea, but ended up ordering lunch. Unfortunately, the food took an inordinately long time to arrive, which led us to a collective glazed stupor.

After lunch, us waiting for the kids:



We spent the afternoon seeing all the classic touristy sites:













One of which was really interesting. This is Edward III's Jewel House, circa 1356, an uncanny oasis of calm amidst tourist hell.





We did not do this:



We returned to the hotel and had a lovely tea at the hotel (finally got to those cupcakes). Later, we hit the Lamb Pub for dinner. Yum.

London List

I'm not much of a blogger, so I've decided to take a more simple approach to this; here's a list of stuff that I remember from the trip so far.

• Dad=Pumpkin
• Awkward speed-racing against my brother down famous stairwells
• British Airways courteously providing me with a broken seat
• Getting into the Ministry of Magic is not as easy as Mr. Weasley makes it seem
• Playing chess with a makeshift board with my brother. Alex ended the game by trapping me in a corner with his last grape (knight) and a coffee bean (queen)
• Steak and ale pie is delicious; if you ever see it on a menu, order it.
• Always look both ways before crossing a street, even if one direction doesn't quite seem right
• Anyone with a British accent is my friend
• The jet-lag showing its wide range of side-effects; a silent first meal at the hotel (most of us just stared into space throughout the meal), to uncontrollable giggling over tea (three hours after the spacey meal)
• A woman's jaw dropping to find out that the "girl" who sat down with me and my brother was actually our mom.
• Platform 9 3/4 is not a magical portal to the Hogwart's Express, it's a wall, made out of solid stone. No magic. 

Thats about all I can think of for now. Oh, one last word of advice; not standing up one time on a ten-hour flight is probably not the best idea. Side-effects of not moving for ten hours include the following; back pain, neck pain, knee pain, head pain, calf cramps, loss of sanity, drowsiness, nausea, and an unexpected need to urinate. 

Jet Lag Syndrome

What a sad image. Indeed, part of having jet lag is the losing of one's neck. It slowly caves into your body, like a turtle into one's shell. Common slang for the disease is "Jabba the Hut's neck." Sexy.