What I Learned in German Class

We went to German class tonight. I wasn't paying attention to the teacher, and, instead, looked up strange words in my dictionary.

1. Blutspender means "blood donor." Blood spender...Graphic.

2. The German word for "soon" is bald. Is this a cruel joke that the Teutonic vernacular is playing on me, someone who is thinning on top? Don't I have enough to deal with without the cruelty and mocking of a language when nature's course is completed? In Italian, "soon" is translated presto. I like the sound of that better. It's has a magical feel to it.

3. The word for "thick" and "fat" would make junior high boys--and me--giggle with forbidden delight.

My Name in Paris

Paris by the Numbers

Here’s the cost in dollars of our Paris trip in October:

$230 Airline tickets
$279 Hotel room

Friday
$59.97 Aslan’s Boarding
It seems like a lot to pay for jail time. Bettina, the owner of the kennel, greets us each visit with a cigarette in one hand and indifference in the other.

$18.11 Train from Wiesbaden to Frankfurt Airport and back again
We are a five-minute walk to the train station, and then it’s a 40-minute ride to the airport. It’s pretty convenient.

$19.46 Two Paninis and bottled water at an airport kiosk

$60.81 Taxi from Paris airport to our hotel in the Latin quarter
The Lebanese driver blasted French hip-hop in our ears. A blending of many cultures in one cab.

$10.14 Went to a Quickstop near the hotel to buy snacks. The place reeked of mildew. We bought cookies and water.

Saturday
$23.92 Our first French breakfast
We were expecting little men with stereotyped accents serving us soufflés and omelets shaped as the Eiffel Tower. Rather, we had a Cambodian young man who served us runny, undercooked eggs congealing like blood. I slurped the eggs from my fork and tried to think of better days.

$6.35 Pastries on the way to Notre Dame.
We bought them and stopped on the street to eat, and a couple asked us for directions to an ATM. I could tell that he was from New England, and I asked him where he is from. He is from Pawtucket, Rhode Island, like me. We left and had chowda togetha.

$22.97 Louvre Museum
Worth it all, except for a minor scuffle I had with the coat room attendant. The Louvre is the only reason that I would return to Paris.

$13.51 Audio Tour
These were not nearly as good as we thought they’d be. They explained minor pieces in great detail, but had nothing on many others. And, we looked silly with them on our lids for four hours.

$36.35 Café Richelieu for lunch
We ate at the Louvre’s café for lunch, certainly not the smartest move. “Richelieu” is a slant rhyme to “screwed.” Whatever I had was forgettable.

$13.51 Wine and Crème Brule
We left the Louvre and stopped in a parkside outdoor café. I had the wine; Kristie had the crème brule. I only like the hard, crusty top.

$3.78 Metro tickets to Arch de Triumph.


$1.35 Bounty Bar in the candy machine in the Metro

$65.54 Dinner with a glass of wine



After much walking around looking for a perfect French café, we came to this one. It seemed fine, and we started with two glasses of wine. Our waiter was young and seemed inexperienced, but he was friendly. The tables were quite close together, and, as he was delivering the plates to our neighbors, his tray clipped my wine glass and knocked it over. It was a deluge of red wine in my lap. He was apologetic, and told me he would pay for the dry cleaning. I wasn’t too upset, as I felt that it was accidental and he was properly remorseful. I put my jacket on, and we continued the meal. After the meal, they still wanted payment. I talked to the manager and showed her my ruined clothes, and she told me to wash it. This did not help my attitude towards Parisians. I was the friendly, acquiescing American, and she was the cold, cold French. I said that I will only return for the Louvre, but, at this point, even that is in question. I took my clothes to the dry cleaner, but they were closed on both Sunday and Monday. I brought them to the cleaners here in Wiesbaden, but the stain never came out.

$7.57 Metro tickets

Sunday
$37.16 Breakfast in America
The best restaurant we ate in Paris was a place called Breakfast in America. It had glowing reviews from Frommer’s, and I thought it was tasty. It had a touch of movie memorabilia kitsch, and that didn’t hurt any. And, the eggs were delightfully cooked today. It was one of the best breakfasts that I’ve had abroad. This is always a difficult meal to find outside of the States, as Americans are the best at breakfast. We seem to require more than a croissant and coffee to get through the day. My guess is that the Atkins diet is not so popular outside of our borders.

$5.34 Starbucks
I had way too much coffee at breakfast to drink anymore. Kristie had one.

$19.73 Metro Pass
We bought a two-day Metro pass.

$47.30 Metro Painting
We went to an artist market (like Saturday Market in Portland), and bought this. It’s a discarded Metro ticket with a drawn picture of the old Metro signs on the back. Perhaps this sounds strange, but we like it. The artist was nice. He was from Germany, and told us that he saw Kennedy give his “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech in 1963. We also found a little carnival with a horse named Ronadoudou, but that has nothing to do with the artist or Kennedy.

$12.16 Model of the Eiffel Tower
I was surprised that Kristie wanted one of these. I wonder if they would have prevented us from taking it in our carry-on baggage. That’s pointy.

$6.35 Drinks

$18.24 Lunch at a Focaccia shop

$113.24 Dinner at Swann et Vincent


In contrast to last night, this meal and experience was excellent. The only problem was a family from Hong Kong seated next to us. The boy was spread out on the booth, and the mom moved him. Then, the waiter tried to seat a couple near them again, and the woman screamed at the waiter to have them sit elsewhere in all of these open tables. The waiter and host were both gracious amidst her rudeness. So much for the Rude American stereotype. How about those Hong Kongians? I was far more cautious with my wine tonight.

Monday
$4.46 Café
I went here alone in the morning waiting for a dry cleaning shop to open (it never did). I had a croissant and a coffee, but not the good kind. We are losing hope in coffee drinking in Europe. There’s a different taste to it, and it’s bitter or sour. There’s a woman sitting next to me writing in an identical book as this one. I wonder what her book says. When I arrived, she was with a man and they both were cuddled around coffee and bread. They looked like they were telling Paris secrets to one another, teeth shining with new love. They looked like two teenagers I have to chase away from the romantic nooks in a school. These weren’t teens, though. Rather, she was 40-ish and he was 50-ish. It’s Monday, so everyone is dressed professionally and hurrying to work (except, as it seems, the dry cleaner I am waiting for). Evidently, the man had to leave earlier than she, so he left waving through the store front glass. He unlocked his motorcycle and pushed it while sitting on it, the way a kid does with a bicycle that’s too big for him. He kept waving to her and she waved back. He continued to scoot and wave, and I was embarrassed to be around this Cupidic gesturing. It was like I was at the airport and he was headed to war. His eyes smiled at her and I’m sure his mouth did as well, but it was hidden behind his candy-apple red helmet too large for his noggin. He left the sidewalk and motored into the boulevard. She watched his trail of muffler fumes, and then unwrapped a set of blueprints. She smoked while writing in her book. Is she writing a love poem? Or about the new house they are having built on the Seine, one that has a partial view of the Eiffel Tower and spare bedrooms for the adult children they have from previous marriages? Or could she be writing ways to murder him, how she thinks it juvenile to be a grown man who still rides his motorbike to his job of selling tickets for a ride to the top of the Arch de Triumph? She met this stalker on the internet (ParisLove4Me.com) and now must concoct an “accident.”
Maybe this is too complex. She could have been writing that she is upset that she couldn’t see her love leave because some guy’s at the next table bulbous head obstructed her view, and that it is curious that he is writing in a book just like hers.

$45.27 Subway ticket to the airport

$24.32 Café de Flore


This was the only thing that I wanted to go to. It was the café that Albert Camus and Sartre spent the time discussion existentialism. I felt smarter simply by paying for my ten-dollar croissant. Talk about an existential dilemma.

$35.14 Casa Italiano
Yet another Italian restaurant in Paris.

$25.68 Picasso Museum
Dull. Unorganized. Crowed.

$4.73 Drinks

$11.89 Drinks at the Viaduct
The waitress asked me if I wanted fresh wine. I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded like it would be Kool-Aid. She tried to explain, I didn’t understand. The restaurant was nice. It was a strip of trendy shops and cafes build into a restored viaduct.

$28.51 “Dinner” at the Airport
Sandwiches were served in plastic. I listened to Jerry Seinfeld in my iPod, so that made it better.

$3.38 Torte

$1316.09 Total cost for the trip
I can’t say that it was worth every euro cent.