bon année

So not wanting to eat ramen noodles or a baguette for Chinese New Year I attempted to cook some form of Vietnamese food sans proper cookware, and most importantly, the aid of my mom.

One hour, 3 attempts, and an impossibly messy kitchen for two dishes later, yielded the following results:

The shrimp chips were delicious. I also gave myself a stomach ache.

However a phone call from my dad and this picture cheered me up.

Happy New Year.

londre

So when I try to think about what I did in London I can’t really think of anything. I believe this is mainly due to the fact that I didn’t really go to London for sightseeing but rather for people seeing. Still, I’d like to see what I did for two weeks (and justify, for accounting purchases, how I managed to spend what I did).

Dec 21st – went to Paris Sunday because I had to be at the airport really early the next day (6:30am). Went to Alex’s mom’s Christmas concert where I interacted with French and Japanese people giving me the opportunity to speak not one, but two languages horribly. Had to answer the question “Do you speak English?” spoken in a speed usually reserved for the mentally unrapid because everyone introduced me as “This is Alex’s friend Kelly from Japan.”

Dec 22nd – Flew to London. Took a nap. Ate cheese and drank wine.

Dec 23rd – Watched t.v.

Dec 24th – Went to pick up Justin from the airport after realizing his flight was delayed making his arrival time 11am and not 8am (I woke up at 10am). Found out I had no Christmas present (he didn’t have his bags).

Went to the grocery store and realized last minute Christmas shopping includes grocery shopping.

Met my Big Headed Twin for dinner at an Indian restaurant. Met Mrs. Big Headed Twin for the first time and ate 5 pieces of Nan because I’m a fat bastard.

Dec 25th – Ate too much Christmas goose. Reference the picture Justin took of me below of my pathetic state that I couldn’t stop because of my pathetic state.

Dec 26th – Housebound waiting for Justin’s bags to arrive. Watched t.v.

Dec 27th – See December 26th. Bags finally arrive.

Dec 28th – Non Londoners start arriving. Drinking and reunion desu.

Dec 29th – Went to oldest wine bar in London and then walked around London for some sightseeing. Stopped inside a bar for a break from the cold and ordered an Irish coffee. Sorry out of milk. How about just a coffee? Sorry out of cups. Found another bar with cups.

Played a trivia game but am useless because I’m crap at remembering things.
Quote 1:
Tim: How’s it going over there Dan?
Dan (my teammate): Yeah. There’s a lot of smiling over here. And wine drinking.
Quote 2:
Fran (after question is stated and looking at me): Look at Kelly trying to think (this is said in a tone someone would use when looking at a 4 year old trying to tie her own shoes).

Dec 30th – Prevented Dan from eating toast with duck sauce left over from Indian takeout food for breakfast (he thought it was jam).

Went to the Tate Modern museum and stared for 10 minutes at a painting entitled “Turtle” and was still unable to see a turtle. Wished instead of the little blurb under each piece they would simply state which drug the artist was on and perhaps a sample of said drug so you could really see “racial harmony” in barbed wire.

Ate a bag of kettle barbequed chips for dinner and stood in the freezing cold for a two hour walking tour of Jack the Ripper. Excellent tour. Worth it.

Cat peed on my bed.

Dec 31st – New year’s house party at Tom’s. Had so much fun we missed the countdown.

Jan 1st – Spent all day recouping from night before.

Jan 2nd – Proved my worth as a valuable team member for a game that involves challenges such as writing your name with a pen in your mouth.

Snuck pre-purchased vodka in Karaoke booth and then ordered vodka mixers (cranberry juice and red bull) and sang Karaoke like drunk people would as they delivered our alcohol free drinks. Ob.vi.ous.

Cat peed on my bed. Again, causing me to think I’m overstaying my welcome.

Jan 3rd – Ate fish and chips, played guitar hero, and met Bears and Big Headed Twin for shabu shabu in Chinatown.

Jan 4th – Long journey back to Paris and then Rouen.

Yeah so I didn’t do much in terms of sightseeing. Was mostly tea drinking and hanging out.

And that, in the end, is what made it so great.

quelle coincidence

So I’m at le forum (internship/job fair) standing in line waiting for the next recruiting person to free up and hating being a girl and having to wear heels when I couldn’t help but notice one of the recruitment guys being really mean to a Chinese student.

Basically he said: “If you want to speak English go find an internship in an English speaking country.”

If this was a episode of Seinfeld he would’ve looked abruptly away and said “Next!”.

Unfortunately the next person up was me.

Having seen what just transpired I was careful to only speak French. Until he started asking hard questions. Like after I told him I would like to work with databases he said “What do you do with a database?” Having to choose between speaking in English and have a coherent answer or saying in French “Base de donnees sont tres bon.” I choose the former.

He picked apart my answer and basically dismissed it as wrong. I defended myself. He moved on to the next hard question like “Why are you studying in France?” “Why not another European country?” “Yes, but why France?”

Basically he was being, in my opinion, an asshole. At least other recruiters have the decency to pretend to be nice before throwing your resume in the trash bin.

After grilling me he asked me if I had any questions. I could’ve gotten out of there by saying “No” and “Au revoir” and ending my interaction with the miserable man but for some reason I pressed on and asked him what his project was and what kind of internship opportunities there were.

He told me was working with Intelligence Business (“Do you know what intelligent business is?” “Uh huh… WRONG!”). As he scrutinized and berated me, I couldn’t help but notice he spoke English with the British intonation and asked him if he learned his English in England. He told me no but he interacts a lot with people in London but that he has family in Texas. For some reason he told me he was from Vietnam.

Me too! I exclaimed (a little too excitedly) and switched to Vietnamese hoping he’d like me better. He told me he came to France in the 1970s and before that he lived in…. wait for it.

Japan.

We bonded. I got his business card. What are the odds?

rules are made to be broken

So I used to be the type of person that follows rules blindly. After coming back from London I am wiser and now know that rules are for suckers.

How do I know this? Because on my way back to Rouen I broke not one, not two but five rules and I must say, I’m better for it.

Rule 1: Carry on luggage weight allowance of 10 kg.

My carry on luggage weight: more like 15-20kg.

The worst that happened was that the flight attendant picked it up to check it’s weight, looked at me knowingly that I was breaking the rules and said “next time, a little thinner” and let me pass.

What I gained for breaking the rule: saved 20 euros and wait time by not checking in my bag.
Rule 2: No liquids on your carry on.

I had all sorts of lotions given to me as Xmas presents that I shoved into my carry on. I couldn’t be bothered to take them out of my bag and discard them.

Despite the multiple reminders (both in words AND pictures)that I wasn’t allowed liquids over a certain amount I went through security with no problems.

What I gained: lotions while avoiding checking in my bag.

Rule 3: You must buy a ticket when riding the metro.

I tried to use one of the carnet metro tickets I purchase in Paris when I had to get from the airport to Paris but it didn’t work and the line for tickets was ridiculously long so I just walked around the ticket taker thingy. I knew that when I left the station I would have to use some kind of ticket to get out but I was too tired and decided to deal with that when I came to it.

When I got to the station I did indeed have to use a ticket to get out (there was no walk around option). With a “what the hell” mentality I tried one of the carnet metro tickets again. For some reason it worked. Score.

What I gained: the price of the ticket and losing time by waiting in the long ticket line. This doesn’t seem like a lot but actually when I arrived at the train station I just made it in time for the last train from Paris to Rouen. Another 10 minutes and I would’ve had to wait till 6am the next day.

Rule 4: You must punch your ticket before getting on the train.

I never time punch my ticket because if the train person comes by to check for a ticket and it’s not punched they punch it for you. Sometimes (coincidently this time) nobody checks for a ticket at all and if you buy an open ticket you can use it anytime for up to 2 months.

What I gained: Unpunched ticket = free ticket for future travel.

Rule 5: If you buy a second class ticket you must sit in the second class section.

That day everyone and their mother was coming back from vacation so the train was super crowded. Instead of walking the entire length of the train with my heavy bag to find an empty seat I decided to sit in first class and if found out I would plead foreigner ignorance.

In the end nobody came to shoo me out.

What I gained: Comfy two seater all to myself.

Yeah yeah I know rules are there for a reason and some are important to follow, but in these scenarios nobody was hurt by my reckless rule breaking. And it’s not like I did it to be a rebel or anything. I did it because I’m a lazy bastard.

No harm, no foul – n’est pas?

the karmatic ironing is delicious

So Justin’s from one of the coldest parts of Canada (eh) and there was a big snowstorm when he left delaying his flight. Fortunately he did make it in time for Christmas. Unfortunately his bags didn’t.

Apparently none of the bags were loaded onto the plane and nobody was told of this till after they landed in London. Sorry folks, you know that bag containing all the Christmas presents for your family and friends? Yeah they weren’t loaded into the plane. Merry Christmas!

People cried.

Justin was told his bags would arrive on boxing day but didn’t know the time so we were pretty much stuck waiting indefinitely for them. He was given a phone number to call which I’m sure was just a rouse since it was always busy and when it finally did ring rang on forever. He was also given an a tracking number to check on the status of his bags online and when he did the website gave a cryptic message containing no information whatsoever and requesting he try again, which he did only to get the same message.

It was maddening. The sun was shining (which if you know anything about London is rare) and I was stuck indoors with nothing to do but… wait for it.

Watch t.v. all day. Not for one day but two days since the bags finally arrived on the day after boxing day.

Everything. Happens. To. Me.

the day i looked stupid but saved 20 euros

So the budget airlines here in Europe are super cheap but also super pricks when it comes to carry-on luggage. When I flew RyanAir to Dublin I took meticulous care to keep my bag under 10kgs so that I could bring it as a carry on. Unfortunately after the snotty French guy weighed my bag (it was exactly 10 kg) he “wasn’t sure” about the dimensions of my rolly and I wasn’t able to jam the dam thing into the “your bag must fit into this to be carry-on” thingy. He sent me to pay for it to be checked in before I could get my boarding pass. Cost? 25 Euros one way which is incidentally almost the price of the ticket one way. Ouch.

This time, to go to London I flew EasyJet. They too are stingy about the carry-on baggage but sneakier than RyanAir. When I bought my ticket online the option for number of checked bag was defaulted to 1 charging you an extra 20 euros one way. You have to manually change it to 0 to avoid the extra charge. They also call a carry on bag “hand luggage” and have a picture that looks like you can only bring on what looks like a purse and X-ing out what looks like a rolly but if check the allowable size dimension is rolly is fine.

The good thing about EasyJet is you can check in online if you only have a carry-on. That means there’s no snotty French guy to weigh your carry on or check its dimensions. Unfortunately breaking the rules is risky since they make it clear that if you exceed the size or weight limitation they can refuse to let you board the plane.

I considered my options and bought a new rolly that I knew for a fact fit the allotted dimensions and decided to ignore the weight limit since I’ve never seen any kind of weighting device at the gate.

Still two weeks is a lot of outfits and underwear to pack so I actually didn’t have enough space for everything. Clearly I had only one option left. And that was to wear half of my London wardrobe on the plane.

I donned a tank top, t-shirt, sweatshirt , plaid jacket, and massive coat and complimented my outfit with knee high boots and purse stuffed with extra socks and headed to the airport.

Security sucked because I basically had to remove everything and then put it back on whilst avoiding the why do you have three pairs of socks in your purse stares. Still I made it through without any problem.

So I’m sitting there at the gate waiting for the plane and sweating b/c I’m wearing so much freaking clothes when one of the flight attendant approaches me and tells me in French that I’m only allowed one bag on the plane so I must put my purse in my rolly. I pretended not to understand French (it’s a trick I learned in Japan to get away with stuff) but he switched to English so I had to comply.

Having spent a good part of my youth playing Tetris I’m pretty good at packing but wasn’t able to perform any miracles and could only fit half the contents of my purse into my rolly.

Good thing my massive coat also had massive pockets which I stuffed with socks, French biscuits (I couldn’t stay at someone’s place and not bring them something), and a guidebook.

At this point I’m sure I looked some sort of sweaty kleptomaniac stripper that gets paid for each layer of clothing she takes off.

Bare in mind I was in this state for the duration of the flight. But also keep in mind that I saved 20 euros.

…

Next time I think I’ll use that extra 20 euros and take the chunnel.

oie de noel

So there was a mini JET reunion for New Year’s in London that I decided to go to because it was tres chere to go back home for the holidays. Feeling sorry for me that I would spend Xmas alone, a friend of mine came early to London to spend Christmas with me. I arrived on the 22nd (Monday) and he would arrive on the 24th so the deal was for me to go to the grocery store and buy all the ingredients necessary for xmas dinner and he would do all the cooking.

I arrived on that Monday in the afternoon and immediately took a nap. That night my friend’s roommates had a cheese and wine party where I ate delicious baked camembert infused with rosemary and garlic (washed down with red wine and port), learned of “hamburger pizza” (youtube it – twas the brainchild of a guy that would later put on an elf costume for the night ), and pulled my first poppy yielding hilarious jokes like “What enters a house through the keyhole?” (Answer: key).

Twas a lovely time so as you can see I couldn’t go to the grocery store on Monday but I still had all of Tuesday so it was all good.

I woke up Tuesday around 10am with every intention of going to the grocery store (I even got directions from the roommates). But then I made a fatal flaw. I sat down and started watching t.v. And didn’t stop. For 16 hours. Straight.

Now before you judge me take into consideration the fact that I hadn’t watched t.v. in 3 months. That’s right, 3 MONTHS. Ever since arriving in France and knowing I’m only staying in my apartment for 9 months I’ve become quite the minimalist so there’s no t.v. in my room.

I had no idea how much I missed television until I started watching it again. It was sitcom after sitcom. Frasier, then the Simpsons, then a cooking show about Christmas logs, then Futurama, Friends, The Daily 10 on E, Scrubs, and before I knew it, it was 2am.

Had t.v. been a drug I would’ve O.D.ed. Seriously.

Justin arrived the next day and wasn’t exactly pleased that we had to go grocery shopping and even less pleased at the reason why. I had no idea what the big deal was until I arrived at the English Walmart (called Asda).

That place is a freaking procrastinator’s hell.

Carts ramming up your ass, checkout lines so long they’re going down the aisles, people miserable and scowling grabbing at slim pickings off almost empty shelves made empty by people who had the good sense to avoid grocery shopping on Christmas eve.

All this happening to the tunes of songs like “Have a holly jolly Christmas” and “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” playing on the speakers. I wanted to shot myself. Especially when I realized they were all out of turkey.

After having multiple conversations with people back home about the delicious turkeys they had for thanksgiving and my feeble attempt at thanksgiving dinner with a rotisserie chicken purchased at my local grocery store I was determined to have turkey for xmas. I even emailed my friends making sure there was an oven available at the apartment I would be staying at.

I spoke with the lady to see if they had any more turkeys in the back. She looked at me like the naive fool that I am and told me the last of the turkey went the night before.

The night before. I could’ve totally gotten it before then had it not been for stupid J.D. and his funny internal monologues about brown bear.

I almost cried had I not done this to myself.

I guess the lady saw how disappointed I was, took pity on me and directed me to another grocery store around the corner. She warned me they would probably be out as well.

Leaving Justin to stand in the ridiculously long line to purchase what could be a dinner of stuffing and mash potatoes sans turkey I headed out.

The lady was right, they didn’t have turkey at that grocery store. But they did have goose.

My first Christmas goose. J'étais satisfaisant.