the effects of glamour and cosmo

So when Brooke came to visit I called dibs on whatever magazines she bought for the plane ride over to Paris. Which happen to be Glamour and Cosmo. Confining myself to my room over the weekend to tackle projects with looming deadlines, they were my only source of procrastination since I have no t.v. or internet in my room and I was out of books to read.

I devoured them.

And then weird things started happening, or rather, strange thoughts started to pop in my head. Like when I went to get dressed, I changed clothes three times because what if what I had one was one of those things in my closet that could make me look chunky? Or maybe I WAS stuck in a rut and not experimenting with color enough preventing me from being a “fun” and “fearless” female.

When I finally got myself presentable and outside I couldn’t help but judge what everyone was wearing. Was it a Do or a Don’t? Was it Sexy or was it Skanky? Steep or cheap?

And when I went to put food in my mouth I wondered what kind of fat was in what I was eating. Was it monosaturated fat (a definite DO!). Or saturated or trans fat (A definite DON’T!). Or maybe this was one of those times where I should be “free to be me” and indulge myself.

And then I started to want a boyfriend so I could keep him, ditch him, impress him, delight him, tantalize him, satisfy him, understand him, not cheat on him, know him, blow him, stroke him, poke him.

You get my drift.

Someone send me a book. Stat.

sour service

So my friend Brooke came into Paris over the weekend and me and another friend of hers (Nancy) came into Paris to hang out. I arrived in Paris at around 8pm, dropped off my bags in our hotel, and together we roamed the cute little area our hotel was in. We found a quaint alleyway with small shops and restaurants and decided to drop into one of them for some cider and crepes.

Brooke got apple crepes and Nancy ordered lemon crepes (I didn’t order anything since I had just stuffed my face with a Mac Tasty and wasn’t feeling particularly hungry).

So we’re sitting and chatting and their crepes arrive and they chow down when Nancy realizes that her crepe has no lemon flavor to them. The following occurs:

Nancy [to the waiter]: Do you speak English?
Waiter: Yes.
Nancy: Ok. I ordered a lemon crepe but I don’t think there’s any lemon in here. [I have to note here that Nancy is speaking normally]
Waiter: WHOA LADY, RELAX! [whilst throwing hands up in a defense manner and speaking in a tone usually reserved for women in hysterics]

Brooke, Nancy, and I look at each confused like dude, what’s that all about. In the meantime he goes over to the counter, grabs a lemon container about the size of Snapple bottle, comes back to our table and then proceeds to dump about half the contents of the lemon container on to Nancy’s crepe. He would’ve dumped more had she not stopped him. Her crepe is now drowning in lemon syrup.

Waiter: Good?
Nancy: Um. Yeah.

Now I’ve heard about Parisian jerks before but this was my first experience with such an extreme case. For the next half an hour we tried to dissect what had occurred but still could not figure out why he was behaving in such a way.

After Brooke and Nancy finished with their crepes he came to take the plates away and made it a point to politely ask Nancy if she’d like another crepe. She declined.

C’est bizzaire.

le 19 euro billet

So as always I’m plotting my next vacation and managed to get myself invite to Chamonix, Bologna, and Vienna for the one week break I have towards the end of February.

This time around booking stuff was a lot more difficult because I had to book three separate trips. On top of that, this time the budget airlines didn’t seem to fly to where I needed them to.

Enter train travel.

So far the only train I’ve taken in Europe is the one from Rouen to Paris but I hear they’re a lot more convenient than plane travel because 1. Most train stations are located in the center of town and 2. You don’t have to worry about baggage restrictions. The only thing is they can be really expensive. For example a train from Vienna to Paris is around 250 Euros (yes one way).

After several days of checking multiple sites I ended up booking a flight instead for approximately the same cost as flying round trip to London figuring it was the best I was going to get.

So one down two to go. Sounds easy right? Not really. That’s because there are like a million train travel websites.

There’s SNCF which is the French train travel site (in French). Then there’s TGV which is the fast train travel site but from what I can see it’s the same as the SNCF one only in English. Then there’s the rail-europe site which only caters to the U.S., Canada, and Mexico and another site that caters to the UK.

All of these websites sell train tickets from multiple locations but not the same tickets and if it is the same ticket they sell it for a different price. Not only that but I notice that, depending on different times, you get different results from the same website. And not like the price goes up, I mean new train times or a cheaper prices magically appear.

What’s a girl to do?

Spend all day combing through these websites that’s what. Finally I found what I thought was the best price through the site that caters to North America. The only things is that this website only sends the tickets to a U.S. address so it added an additional complexity and annoyance to everything but the price was so good I was willing to deal with it.

I booked the tickets from Paris to Chamonix and Geneva to Bologna and waited for the confirmation email. Got it.

So I shoot off some emails because I’m feeling so happy to be done with the whole thing when I get another email from the site that reads:

“Thank you valued customer…. [blah blah blah more sucking up]… the ticket you requested is no longer available. We do however, have another ticket for double the price! [they didn’t say this but essentially it was so]. Please let us know if this is ok and we’ll send the tickets immediately. “

I close my laptop and don’t use the internet for three days.

After I regain my composure I again check out all the websites possible. By this time I started to get good at things and found a really cheap overnight train ticket from Paris to Chamonix for 40 euros. Score.

Two down, one to go. But this last one, she was tricky.

Basically if you search for Geneva to Bologna you get one possibility and that’s to leave Geneva at 11pm and arrive in Bologna the next day for 105 Euros.

Um yeah. Sorry but I only buy crap for cheap. Not for expensive. Then the “highly motivated to save money Asian” in me gets a bright idea. I search from Geneva to Milan and then Milan to Bologna. It was then that I found the 19 euro ticket from Geneva to Milan. Unfortunately the 19 euro ticket leaves either really early or really late.

Being the veteran budget traveler that I am, I know that a cheap ticket is cheap for a reason and usually that reason is because the person purchasing the ticket is naive as to what it actually entails. For example, short transfer times when there are a million platforms at the train station or a really far away airport that takes more money to get to and kills your savings margin. The thing about cheap tickets as well is that they are high risk meaning they are nonrefundable so once you buy them you are stuck dealing with whatever problems they bring.

Not knowing the transport system from Chamonix to Geneva I couldn’t risk getting the early ticket. That left the late ticket. It arrived at Bologna at 10:35pm. Unfortunately, according to the SNCF website (which is where I found the 19 euro ticket) the last train to Bologna was 7pm.

I contacted my friend in Bologna and he reassured me that the last train leaving from Milan to Bologna was at 11pm. Still a 35 minute wiggle room made me a big uneasy especially when the fallout is that I would be in a foreign place by myself in the middle of the night. Still a 19 euro ticket is a 19 euro ticket and the alternative was 60 euros.

I checked out the Italian train website to see for myself and realized that he was right, the last train was 11pm. I also realized I could purchase my Geneva to Milan ticket from this site and get a train that left at a decent time if I was willing to spend 10 euros more . Hells yeah. I searched for Milan to Bologna. 18 euros. Score!

I quickly registered with the website, double checked my train dates and times (military time makes me uneasy), got out my credit card, entered the information and hit “buy.”

“Sorry your credit card has been rejected and your session as timed out. Please try again.”

So I did.

Only to find that the ticket I want is no longer available.

I close my laptop and don’t ever want to use the internet. Ever again.

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?