Im back!!

Ladies and gentlemen it is good to be back on United States soil. I figure maybe I'll write a little bit about the trip, being that flights always seem to involve some of the best characters and anecdotes you could imagine (I mean really you can't make this stuff up.) This one definetly does not lack characters, but don't worry you'll meet them shortly. I just wanted to say that I still have a bunch of unfinished blogs, so keep checkin back about my adventures in France and I'll keep you updated. Oh and if there's anything you want to know about specifically in France, or from my perspective, just make a comment, send me a message or shoot me an email and I'll post an answer.

Ok now back to the wonderful 13 hour or so flight day. Let's see.... how should we do this? I have an idea....

Let's meet the characters first.

Phillip Anyou - nice security guard who really got to know me

a REAL wanker - just some guy in the London airport

The "GREEN" family -the family that adopted the air out your laundry policy from France.

the 'happy' flight attendant - do a synonym search for happy

Passepartout - around the world in 23 hours... i think he's got time to spare

Mr. Pierre Walker - 2 good legs and 1 mission

and as a bonus the entire cast from what international sport do you play

Ok so we start in Paris at around 10am. I arrive and coach drops me off. Knowing I don't have a boarding pass, I go through the line to the border patrol thinking that maybe it's on the other side. Oh no. I get directed back to the desk at the far right were a little French woman is sitting. Not speaking english she points to a machine when I ask if I can check in. Great! Who needs real service when you've got a computer to do your job! Let's just get rid of all the jobs and make it "EASIER" by using computers.... hahahaha.... (but I'm not bitter)

Well it says all you need to do is scan your passport and your good to go... enter computer failure. I scan my passport and the next thing I see is an insufficient data screen. Awesome! I try to do it again, no luck. Ok side option, check for the electronic ticket number or something else I dont have. Great. Didn't print out the paper, so I make the decision to use the phone...

eventhough I'm probably over my data plan because AT&T says when you
take pictures with the Iphone and download to your computer using a cord.
It's IDK an extra dollar a pic. and you've seen how many pics I've
taken...sorry mom.

After making that gut call, it's good to know that reliable service is at your finger tips.... or not. I see the little clock spin countless times and just wait... good thing every 3 mins the computer I'm trying to board at wants to know if I've walked away or am still waiting. I have to press a button like 15 times while looking for service. I'm getting a little nervous thinking what will I do if I get stuck. I don't have a phone or coach's number... crap. "Lord help me" (good idea)... Of course afterwards I get service, thankfully have saved it under starred emails. And get the eticket number. Walk through the line again and thankfully I get the same lady who smiles and lets me pass.

I get to my gate and wait in the baggage check line, check my baggage and proceed to the gate number. The lady tells me it's gate 29. vingt-neuf. I try to find it, but it's rather difficult to find. I walk back and forth and then notice that each sign doesn't include the 29 gate... you've got 12-28 on one side and 30-4o something on the other... SWEET. Finally I find it and wait with the other people to go through security check.

People are so fun to watch. It's one of my favorite things to do. I really love people and seeing how different we all are. In the line there's a young Irish guitar player, a Japanesse man in a rush and a bit confused, an English girl who keeps looking at me like she know's something I don't, an Arabic family, an old man in a kilt who becomes a little upset when security wants to check under his kilt ( I dont know why he'd be upset though?!?.... thankfully he's yelling at them in english and I can understand his enormous sense of frustration), I mean really the bases are pretty much covered here.

Then introducing Phillip Anyou. This is the guy who basically molests me. I totally relate to the old man now. I mean I'm wearing just a T-shirt and jeans, that's it.... there is nothing in my pockets, no hat, no shoes.... ok I do have socks on.... no belt, nothing. (I learned this lesson working with Delta, if you throw all your stuff in a bag before you walk through there's no way this type of "Philling up An-you" ever happens) I understand the normal pat down, or wave the wand over you, but this guy was one more grab away from me being locked up in a French prison. He seriously had a problem.

So after I get through a nice lady asks me if I'm sure I want to wait because there is nothing in the terminal except the seats right next to her.... You think I'm going back there with the French fondler... I dont think so.

As I'm waiting for the plane to arrive, I listen to my Ipod and try relax before the flight. Finally hearing a couple of English voices around is a good change of pace from the everyday French. I then see the main guy from British Airways coming through and asking people where there going. So... next thing you know I have to go to gate 28, totally different from gate 29. Instead of making a big security line and letting people walk to the right gates, the terminal I was in decides to have individual security for every 2-3 gates. You know what this means- say hello to Phillip again. After being molested we hop on the quick flight to London.

London's airport is intense. I mean after you go through the maze to get to where you are going, its really nice. There's all kinds of nice duty free shops and restaurants to really keep you entertained. I decide to grab a bite to eat, in case I don't get feed for a while on the plane. Not a huge story here, but I got a mexican sandwhich in London. I thought that was ironic, until I tasted it and realized it was crap. It was on some super fiber, whole grain, whole wheat, make a whole foods super shopper throw-up, kind of bread. And I have no clue how much I paid for it because the Euro isn't accepted in the UK.

I eat the sandwhich and head to the gate. They haven't started boarding so I go to the restroom. Introduce the REAL wanker. I can understand now why they call men from the UK wankers. As I go to the urinal to relieve myself, I naturally take the stall away from as most people as possible. Unfortunately it's the holidays so I have one free spot on my left, myself, and then said wanker to my right. Minding my own business I was rudely interrupted by the wanker wanking... too much information I know... I move to the left, finish and get out of there as fast as a Jamacian running the 100yard dash.

London's airport is a little bit different then most I've seen. After you check through the gates you then walk down the escalators and rows of stairs to ground floor, then hop on a bus that drives you out to the airplane, manuevering all over the ramp (ramp is the word for the floor that the planes drive/ park on, etc.) So being that we have the holidays, every one is trying to get back to the US for a Merry Christmas. The Green family was one such group.

As we load onto the bus I am followed by the Green's. You see I made a V-line to the back of the bus in a place I could stand. They followed and sat in the 3 seats that I had left. Basically this is how this ancedote goes. The man starts histarically gripping at his wife, whose daughter around 14 is sitting next to her. Being a woman she says I don't want to talk about this here and I've had enough. Logically thought process I think, but papa's pissed. I mean let's describe this guy. He looks like late 40's early 50's, you can tell he's a business man who values his time and makes a lot of money. By the way his dressed I'm drawing conclusions of snobishness. He's already pretty much grey, but it's the kind of grey on a guy's head when it shouldn't be grey; making me think he's up tight.

So Mr. "Green" decides to really show off the environmental side and air out that dirty laundry. Apparently he asked his wife to get the tickets, and she had an 8 hour lay over in London. We are getting on the plane to Houston now so why is it a big deal. I guess the past 8 hours really wound him up. He's "like dynamite. Where gonna explode, then were gonna get higher. Then we'll catch on fire." (a replaying series on NASN about the worst coaches...this was a pregame speech to one of the NFL teams)

So the daughter is totally respectable in this situation. She plays peacekeeper and tries to calm the situation out. I think it's crazy. At one point the man grabs his passport and slings it at the wife. You can tell she's sorry, but Mr. Green doesn't much stand for sorrys, atleast from what I gather. I feel sorry for the wife, proud for the daughter, sad for what matters most to the man, and thankful that I can use this story to guide me in my own family one day...

I start thinking about people. I just start thinking how different we all are and yet how much God loves us all. It opened my eyes, as if I was the one looking from above. I could see how this would effect the little girl down the road. How strong she'll be because of it.

Ok back to the ancedote's.... I'll try and wrap it up bc I know I'm taking a while....

So I hop onto the plane, with the help of my new favorite "happy" flight attendant. I mean this guy is just a bundle of joy (insert wrist flick) All in all though the guy did a pretty dam good job serving all of us on the plane, but I still can't get over looking back for a whinning girls voice and hearing him. His name was Nicolas, and there is nothing funnier then when we started going through a little turbulence hearing him scream at some little kid for getting up into the aisle. I about died laughing.

On the flight I had the privelage to sit in the middle seat next to 2 guys around the same age as myself. One was Passeport, he had one of the longest days I had ever heard. He had woken up in New Delhi at 2am and flew to London, had a 4 hour layover, and was on this flight.... Basically the guy was in a plane for 18 hours, overall 23 in an airport, and still had 5 hours once we landed to finish out Dec. 22nd. It played out great bc the guy slept like a rock the whole ride to Houston, except for the first 20 mins were he told me he was from the woodlands, studying, and going home to see the fam. He was definitely a talker so my right ear was pretty glad he fell asleep. To the right was a non talker who listened to music the whole ride there. It only sucked bc he was just as broad shouldered as myself...so when we sat it was normally a pushing match on whose shoulders would be sucked in like a man frozen in the antarctic. I gave in for a while streeching my arms to the sky.

It seems like it would be the worst, scrunched next to 2 guys on a plane with my knees being crammed from 1/2 the part of the love fest going on in 2 of the seats in front of me, and not to mention the old man playing patty cake with the touch screen tv on the seat behind me. But all in all it was a pretty good trip. I mean seeing Greenland is pretty surreal. It's like look through the white clouds to see the white ice capped land. It was beautiful.

Also on the flight was this random creepo named Pierre walker. Pierre went to the bathroom every 28 minutes. I say 28 bc it was pretty spot on. I had no clue what he was doing, but it was a little freaky. I wrote him off with a bad case of bowel movement problems and left it at that. But after he was finished he strolled through the aisles for a good 15 mins before starting the cycle over again. Quite odd, which made it humorous to me.

Oh and finally let's not forget the endless streams of international athletes returning home for Christmas. On our plane we had 2 guys from a basketball team. A girl who looked like a basketball player, and a legit volleyball player. Also in London there was the Italian handball team, and various random basketball players flying to Miami. It's comforting being able to relate to them with just a look.

I finally arrived and made it through the line at customs, waited on my bag, and all in all only took from leaving my apartment in Pontoise at 9:45am to arriving in Houston at 7:30pm... add the 7 hour time difference and you've got a long day. But I'm thrilled to be home. Hope you all have a MERRY CHRISTMAS and I'll write in after the holidays about some other things that have happened in France that I've yet to talk about.

Off to the US.... I'll update you with more from France while in the continental US!!

Au REVIOR

Finally the lil monster returns to the football field...

"Far Droite 357 fullback flat on 1. Ready, Break." We run to the line of scrimmage and I call out the Middle Linebackers number. It's second and goal from about the 8. "Down... Red 19, Red 19...." Then the strangest thing in my entire football career happened. A definsive lineman, nose tackle to be exact, walks across the line with his finger up speaking in French. Uh..... What? Should I snap the ball take the half the distance to the goal penalty? He taps my left guard on the shoulder. Djilali a first year rookie at the young age of 30 something rocks out of his stance a little bit. What the crap great now we've got a false start.... (no whistle) HUH?

The defensive lineman then proceeds to fix Djilali's jersey. Apparently a shoulder pad was not fully under the Cougar jersey and the defensive lineman found it imparative to fix the jersey before he tried to pound Djil into the dirt and kill our quarterback. I say try because there's no way I'd allow that. I guess it's just a different mentality. I mean really....

"Concentration is the ability to think about absolutely nothing when it is
absolutely necessary." - Ray Knight

Football is different. I mean it takes a different mentality to play this game. You have to be a tough SOB with a high pain tolerance and be a little bit on the sadistic side I take a totally different mentality when I step onto the field. Coach D at GT called it the Lil Monster. You have to transform into a barbaric being who get's the job done. So after the guy fixes Djil's jersey he lines back up. I'm just talking to Matt in the middle of the cadence completly confused. "Did that just happen? what was that? am I playing football?" I almost couldn't compose myself enough to block. My mind was literally doing backflips.

Needless to say the day would be a bit of a different experince. When we arrived at the stadium at 4:15, it was the first time I had seen the field in the sunlight. Normally we practice at 8:30pm, so it was a little different feel. It was tough to get into the mental zone as well. At GT, the locker room is silent. Even the pipes know not to squeak on gameday. The normal custom in France is to say hi to everyone as you arrive or they arrive and shake hands. It was a little different saying hi to everyone and trying to not be a jerk, while at the same time getting myself into game mode. Thankfully the earphones kinda helped some of that. The Meteorites are not quite the same talent level as the Hurricanes or Hokies, but you never take anyone lightly...I'm mean ANY GIVEN SUNDAY. (thanks jamie fox) Plus being a scrimmage it's not a real game, so your not as amped generally. I looked back and I think the last scrimmage I had was against Texas City... well atleast the last scrimmage I can remember.

Ok. The scrimmage was designed to be 3 quarters long 12 minutes a piece, no field goals/ kickoffs, the rest is full go. They win the toss and get the ball first, we stop them defensively. Here we go... football in France. We run the ball. Knock the cobwebs loose and get the bodies used to contact early. Sebastien Torel runs hard and we gain 8, until Will get's busted with a holding penalty. They only move the ball back 5 yards. Confusion? Whatever I'll take it. We call the next play and hurry to the line. As we get set, the refs realize the mistake and move the ball back. Good because I almost thought I could double my holding penalties a game if the foul was only 5 yards! Guess not. The drive ends up stalling, I make a bad snap at center on a zone run right with a middle linebacker blitzing over me. The snap was too low and went to Matt's knees. I'm a little upset with myself and make sure it doens't happen again. Now we have to punt.

Whose the punter... Mickael.... Where's Mickael? Working as a firefighter, he'll show up later. Who gets to punt then. Matt Polhemus. Matt's had one kick at yale for like 17 yards or something of that nature. It's funny. He makes a nice kick to the 10 yard line, but forgets he then has to be the saftey valve in case something happens. They break the return and Matt has to make the tackle. He pushes him out around the 45. That a boy QB.

Someone scratches my arm on a pass play and now i'm gushin blood. It's not hurt, but it wont stop. I send someone into the locker room to grab some tape that Arnaud has in his bag and try to wrap it up before we have to go back on.

The defense get's an interception or a punt not sure which and we start driving. Thankfully the guy arrives as we take the field. I have just enough time to wrap the wound while walking to the huddle. The tapes a little different because it has a protective layer before the sticky part which makes it kind of difficult to apply in a hurry. I manage to do a make shift job and get the gash bandaged up.

We are looking alright and do a good enough job to get Seb into the endzone. On one block, Loic Le Glas wheels back and makes a monster block on an unsuspecting DL chasing the ball. I'm pumped! That was nice. I check my chinstrap since it's unbuckled and notice that I'm now missing a snap. We go for 2 since there's no FG's and honestly I don't remember the play but seb punches it in on a tough run. I think he's even a little shaken up, but fights through it. I'm impressed. As I run to the sideline I have to send the guys back into the locker room to get a new snap. Desolee

Start of the 2nd quarter, Loic, the one who made the big block, get's rocked and becomes concussed. He doesn't remember his name, where we are, or how old he is. Not a good sign. We only find out because during the punt return he's not out there. As I'm working on my chinstrap snap...(that's a mini tongue twister, say "chinstrap snap" 5 times fast) ... I barely get the snap screwed in and run onto the field with the ear pad in hand trying to get it hooked on correctly. You forget how nice it is to actually have guys like Tom and Punt at GT doing that stuff for you. I'm in the huddle and getting the play with my helment still off. As we walk to the line I get in on in time, put on the helment and get set... barely made it.

So I don't remember this part perfectly because it was really freaking akward. Play was all of a sudden completely stopped. The officials huddled up for about 5 mins and then the next thing I know I hear someone shouting something about a medecin (thanks Rosetta Stone for teaching me that's a doctor.) Apparently there is no doctor on hand...being a scrimmage coach mas just thought it was like a glorified practice. Since Loic's concussion and another player on the other team got hurt the ref's are tenative. We all sit and wait in confusion, wondering if we'd get the chance to continue playing or not. I take a seat against the retaining wall around the fence.

I kind wonder, who cares, let's just play. It's football, people get hurt. It's a tough game for tough people. Later I am informed that the ref's are appointed or something by the federal govenment or what not, basically meaning it's on their heads if someone is seriously injured without the doctor there to help. (ok ok I get it, I mean I want to play football, but I understand you do what you gotta do.)

We wait a 15 mins and let the refs leave. Then we continue to scrimmage with some of the refs staying and ref-ing. You see some of the refs were old cougars players and volunteered to ref, one is actually on the team, but didn't have his papers to play. Who needs to pay refs when they play for your team right?!?!? haha.

We begin playing and Mickael arrives from his fire fighting job. He is one of our top recievers and really helps freeing up the passing game. He catches a bomb and breaks a takle on his way to a 60 yard TD. We line up for the 2 point play and a player comes into our huddle trying to speak broken english. He says when we touch you stop you. Our OL pushes him away and we have a little scuffle of words. Matt was wearing a red jersey, which of corse means don't hit me. On the pass play the defensive player from the Meteorites felt Matt should've been sacked, but as Matt kept running and threw the pass, we scored. Blah Blah... we line up and this is when Djil get's his jersey fixed.... Seb runs untouched into the endzone for 2 on an inside run that bounces out. Will and Loic Soutenare make a monster combo block allowing this to happen. I feel a little more confident about our running game.

Oh I forgot. I got to play on defense!!! I LOVE PLAYING DEFENSE. It was awesome. I mean I had no clue what I was doing but I went in and we stopped them from there parade down the field. The D was missing a few tackle and they started driving, so I got to go in to give some of the DL a break to catch their breath. We stop them. I got cut blocked by two DL. But seriously it's not that bad, just annoying. I don't know why everyone hates it when I cut block! Just kiddin, it sucks I understand now, but it's not as horrible as most guys think, but then again I didn't get cut by a replica of me.

That was supposed to be the last offensive possesion but the Defense on their last possesion grab another turnover. We march out and run a couple plays, then "IT" hits the fan. We run a pass and the same guy get's to Matt. And by gets I mean what happen was a defensive lineman spun off of will on a one on one pass pro. I happened to see it and got there in time to knock the DL out to the right. (Will plays right guard.) Well he get's close enough to Matt that he rolls out to the right even further and the dude who was talkin says he touched him.

Ok time out. Just because you touch someone, or are close enough to touch someone does not, I REPEAT DOES NOT, imply that you will tackle him. We're not playing freeze tag on some elementary school yard playground. It's football. So he starts jawing and Matt jaws back a little bit. Nothing serious. Your normal talking for football, but some of the Cougars take offense to this and run up and get a little more physical then an altercation of this magnitude needs.

Next thing you know the teams are pushing in shoving. I'm standing were the huddle should be thinking, come on. The Meteorites are getting a little antzy or whatever, coach mas decides to call it. We have a lot of yelling and griping from the players. Coach set's us down. From what I gather he's trying to tell us to just play during the whistle and not give a crap about that. Which is what any coach in football would do. Another first happens. In front of the team a couple of our players talk back to the coach, or speak their mind. I was a little in shock because this never happens in America. If there's a problem or something you speak to coach after the team breaks up, but not in front of the team, and never challenging the coach in front of his team.

What I learn is some of the players feel we need to be respected. Couldn't agree more with you. But respect is earned, never given. You also don't get respect on a football field by starting fights or crap like that. You earn it by driving a guy into the ground every play and doing you job well enough to have more points on the score board at the end of the game then the other team. Anyways, I hope the guys get this. But it's hard to tell in a different language. Overall it's an enlightening experience and we need to travailler dur and get ready for the Flash. Because there a dam good team and I'm a little worried.

French Interview

HAHA... first words I can think of to describe it. Matt and I went over to the Parisian newspaper for an interview and it was a pretty interesting experience. First we rolled in and said hi to everyone, thankfully coach was there to help translate because if not then I think we'd just be lost. We went outside to pose for a photo for the article. The photographer set it up perfectly. He shot from the ground and with me closest to the camera, basically resulting in what appears to be me an 8 foot tall tackle, coach a small child in the middle, and Matt looks like a normal QB. (For the record though, Matt's a pretty big guy for a QB... he could play LB and it'll be good to see a QB that can hit)

So then we sit down and try and talk to the reporter and answer all his questions. What would normally be a 3o min interview lasts around a couple of hours. We talk about our experiences here and back in the states. What it's like going from football being the top sport, to one at the bottom. About France, our opinions. Pretty much just about anything. I think the reporter started just chatting after a while and got intrigued with College football. But I couldn't really tell you because everything I said then Coach translated and vice versa. So I have no clue what exactly the guy heard, but we'll see when the paper comes out. Sometime while I'm back in the states.

Just thought I'd enlighten you on another eye opening experience. Oh and he asked if we found any French girls yet. We said no and it sounded like he's going to write a personal ad with in the article. That could be weird. Anyways I'll post the article for you when it comes out.

From Paris with Love

It was the best day of my life. Top 3 memories of all time. Matt and I had took off to another excursion through Paris just to check out the city and become more familarized with Paris. We left early to make sure we had enough time to get back for practice, maybe even a pre practice nap. The sun had just decided to show itself through the cloud of grey that had been surronding Paris for the past week or so, Pretty much setting up the greatest day of all time.

Matt and I arrived in Paris and started walking down a side street close to Champs de Elysses. Just stimulating the local economy by purchasing enough pastries to make any man gain 3lbs. (serious addiction is starting to kick in and I'm about to have to purge myself by entering pastry rehab.... they call it America.... oh wait I forgot about donuts....dang...what will i do?) Anyways were marching along and then we see a big commotion in the crowd. Like seriously what's going on here?

We check it out and they are literally shooting the new John Travolta film, FROM PARIS WITH LOVE. Ok and apparently the guy kissing guy thing as a greeting does happen. Just in the form of real creative types/ actors/ etc. You know the people who think there totally B.A. Just a sidenote. So were walking by and apparently there is this scene that there trying to do where they need some American tourists for the background shot. Thankfully I'm American. We walk up to the gate after the guy with the mic points us out and asks us to come up. This is gonna be SWEET! I tell matt.

On the set of From Paris with Love

They take us back to the make up closet or whatever it is. Think about a 18 wheeler's trailer converted into a costume/ makeup thingy... I'm not to up to date with my fashion, so I have no clue. So we get all ready and stuff. All were supposed to do is walk by the big shopping store, look at a map, and then scratch our heads as the screen strolls past to Amber Rose Revah strolling past on the cell phone.

I can't tell you how pumped I was, I mean really amazing opportunity. I'm gonna make it, say hello to stardom. Here comes the red carpets, and after partys with the big timers. I'm a little nervous... as we hit our part, I actually stumble and fall into Amber on the first take. "WHAT THE CRAP MATT GET IT TOGETHER" I tell myself. She's ok. The director's pissed, but who cares. We get it on the next take fine. He wants to do one more another way, just to make sure I guess.

Afterwards Amber comes up to me and laughs about me falling. I stumble over myself just a little bit, then try to put the old Matt Rhodes charm one. I tell her she's a little bit too beautiful and I didn't know how to control myself... NICE recovery. Ha, so it's awesome. She ask me and Matt to hang out with her friends after the shoot. I'm like YES!!!!!!!!!!! Does this actually happen????

Then all of a sudden I hear a loud roar.... people are protesting. Yelling and screaming and throwing stuff and setting cars on fire with alcohol soaked rags rapped around bricks. It's utter chaos. I don't know if I should run or watch or rent a video camera and become a youtube star....

Another loud BANG.....

.... I roll over. What the crap? I'm still in bed, but the noise it's not going away. What time is it? 9am. What? Did Will go to work? Is Matt up this early? Did someone leave the TV on? It must be the hooligans movie. Lemme go check. I'd hate to waste energy.

As I roll out, my head still trying to hold on to the dream, I think...."why did John Travolta actually work out in my gym in Cergy 2 weeks ago? Why is that stupid story from the gym owner infesting my dreams? Maybe it's the urban cowboy/ pulp fiction fest that's being played non stop on the movie channels that's helping?"

I check the TV. Nothing...

What. The sounds coming from outside. What could it be? I walk to the window, crack open the door. As the cold air says hello to me standing in my boxers and t-shirt, I peer through sleet filled eyes to a full flegged student protest.

Kid's are going crazy, marching in the streets. Chanting non stop. I notice as one group of boy's comes parading down the road leading to the already massive crowd amassed at the gates to the school. The leader is a boy probably 17 carrying a cone chanting French obsenities... (I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT) And yelling out. The others behind him, totalling close to 100 follow in order. I can't tell what's happening.

Is this about to be a fight like I saw in that Hooligans movie? This is gonna be good. I feel a bit of pity for the few cars that are parked along the road. Boy are they gonna get it. As the group approaches the crowd. I start getting intense. Here they go. Welcome to the war on Rue de Matisse. An actual part of History. This isn't a dream, atleast I got woke up for this. A good enough reason in my book.

The students however don't fight, unless by fighting you mean yelling loud and shaking the fence to the school. Still wouldn't know who'd when that one, the students or the fence? I decide since I'm already up I will grab a bowl of cereal and let the real life television show playing through my new HD window entertain me. I throw on some sweats and sit on the balcony.

It's a good show. Last's about 2 hours. The police come. Instead of breaking it up they just let it go. There's not to much. Some actually "good" students actually went to school. What were they thinking? One girl pulls along a trash can... OK. Pour quoi? Whatever. Girl you sure showed them who was boss by grabing that trash! Don't let the garbage man clean that up, Your so bad ass. The crowd then marches towards the police and onto a main road stopping traffic. Well the cops had already stopped it for them, but whatever.

It dies down. But was a great way to realize that your dream wasn't true. Apparently what had happened was... the new minister for the schools in France/ Paris expecially, decided to fire a bunch of teachers and change the criteria or something. I guess it wasn't to the liking of the students. Apparently all around Paris the students protested. Some might have actually got a little crazy(story). But all in all a great show from the 3rd story balcony overlooking the main strip.

* Side note: Riots actually ocurred on the shooting of From Paris with Love.

May I have some cheese with that wine.

The Streets are packed with the hustle and bustle of Christmas time. Children stop and stare in the windows of the puppet displays for some of the department stores. There are street shops lining the paths selling everything from Crepes to toy helicopters to leather knee high boots. Noel is in the air and it's a special time. We stop to enjoy a Crepe. I have Nutella and Almond, matt nutella and bananna, and Will decides to take Sel (salt). This is partially because he's jealous of my breakfast taco I made that same morning. Potatoes, eggs, cheese, bacon, hot sauce...

We scower the stores looking for the appropriate gifts. Enjoying the style that France has to offer. Matt buys a grey and black scarf. We are becoming more and more French by the minute. *Sidenote: I actually was amazed just this past afternoon when I was riding the bus from the gym to the apartment and I could read the titles of the Newspaper over the shoulder of the women next to me.*

I notice while shopping in the stores, there is a lot of American influence here. You have some of the same brands, however the styles are a bit more fashionable. For instance Carhart, a brand I know for tough rugged wear, for cowboys or more so the blue collar guy, where actually designer t'shirts, pants, sweatshirts, etc. I mean they still had a true carhart jacket that one would be familar with, but WAY more fashion. America has a big influence on the world, and you begin to realize that the world becomes a smaller place with advance in technology and international influences.

A European Carhartt Jacket... I know Eddy Parker would never approve!

After shopping in the main district, we went home on a route that showed us more street vendors. I guess you would think china town type of look. There are row after row of tents set up on another never ending street. One side of the street has endless amounts of shoes mixed with other random products, while the other side has clothes and attire. It is pretty crazy. Finally we arrive at the apartment with enough time to change in order to make it to coach david's place by 7:30.

Have I told you yet how much I love French meals! Coach David and his wife, Karen, invited us over to his new place to enjoy a meal. Coach's place is really nice. I was impressed by the size, again the perception that everything is sooo much smaller in France was wrong. I think it's just America's obsession with more, more, more. I mean it's not anywhere near an unliveable one room flat like some would think, but I will say that their balcony is pretty huge, I can only imagine the barbeques and partys they will have on that thing. You could play a small football game on there!


It's a good time with the group, Coach, Karen, William, Matt, and myself. Apparently William, David and Karen all worked at the same company and this is how the relationships where born. Karen met David and obviously that's working well! Also, David introduced William to the sport of football. They tell stories of playing in the long corridors of their office and getting the President to play with them. There's also a story of perfume wars and Will breaking down a door to try and get to David. It's a great night learning about the people that are becoming my close ami's.


Ha so of corse being a man who loves tasting the food and remembering the places by the food I eat, I'm going to tell you all about this meal. Will starts cutting up the sauscission, a big sausage that we put on the toasted bread and butter and David brings out by far my favorite meat so far. It is a wild boar loaf with noisettes or some other kind of nut in the middle of the loaf. It is so good. I mean it's a little creamy with a slight "gamey" type of taste that just hit's the spot. I don't know why but I love it. Also it worked really well with the glass of Porto that I had.

We continue to trade stories, Will brings out the action figure of Coach David making a touchdown catch for the Cougars. It's awesome, Coach's own action figure! Apparently the guys got it for him as a wedding gift. Karen and David got married in September and we see all the photos from the wedding. Oh and my favorite David explains why Will calls him a "farmer" in French though. Because the word actually means standing in Cow manuer or something like that, apparently David is from the North Eastern part of France closer to Belgium and was from a farm. This leads into Texas and cowboys and country music. Karen actually says she likes some country, or more so the line dancing...and I say I noticed the Country greatest hits CD she had under the TV.

For the meal we eat a Pork loin that has been cooking for a while so it is nice and tender. It has prunes in the center of the meat to give it a nice flavor/dynamic. The sauce or natural jus from the meat is just really good. I use that to put on top of the alfredo pasta and the cheese pilled on top. The bread of corse is amazing... I've become so used to having good bread that it's almost an after thought now.

Afterwards we have cheese, and bread and a nice bourdeaux. Coach describes the cheese as a mild one. Mild my butt. It's pretty strong. I eat a little and enjoy it. I think for me the fromage is only good in moderation. It is good though, but too much of a good thing can sometimes take away from it's quality. I eat about three forths of the cheese and then get prompted to finish with the encouragement/ force of David and the rest of the crew. David then starts talking about some of the other cheeses and how there only good when the maggots or worms crawl out of them. This of corse is only for the hard core fanatics or the older population. I've had enough needless to say.


We drink some wine which provokes another story from the group. David apparently never had alchohol until he met Karen. They talk about him and being a farmer and it's just good times and good laughs. I enjoy it so much just sitting around the table learning about each other eating good food and laughing. We take a bouche which is like a traditional christmas dessert. Much like a log cake or whatever is in America. It has ice cream and caramel and little toffee pieces in it. It hits the spot and concludes another fine French dining experience, well along with another digestive of Courvoisier.


I love this the most. Good food with good friends and good laughs. It's quite the time.

Confit de Canard

A never ending Jeudi... We left for Paris around 4:30pm to meet up with Jean Jaques, a friend of Matt's aunt and uncle. We hop on the train and make our way to the connection for the next line at St. Lazare. We get there right at the hot spot for 5 o'clock traffic. You see owning a car in Paris is much like owning a car in New York City I would imagine, actually probably worse but I'm basing my judgement on the price for gas, the price for a driving licsense, general population, etc. That being said there are a ton of people manuevering around this station. We took a different train in, not one of the normal Paris rail lines, and here all these different trains connect with the rail lines as well with buses and so on and so forth.

We are starting to manage the train system pretty well and get to the right train line to take us to Jean Jaques apartment. As we walked into the train stop it is an incredible site of what most americans would refer to as sardines, me however I refer to it more of as the large number of opilio crabs caught on the Northwestern crammed into the tiny pod. I mean literally I have to pry my way to the beginning of the train line which is at least 8 rows deep packed with people. There are marks on the ground trying to control the flow of traffic for easier departures, along with "helpful" workers. So as the first train approaches it's more packed then the people waiting to get in. Really? Is it even possible that there's enough air to breath on that thing.

As we wait we let 2 trains pass before we can get to the front of the line. As our train comes the masses pile out and we fight like a salmon trying to spawn onto the train. It's packed, I don't know if I could do this everyday. I was touching atleast 7 different bodies, while another 3 were touching me. Imagine me being a petite woman and seeing some random guys chest while standing next to my child. No way Jose. Thankfully we only had to go 3 stops on this packed beast, with each stop bringing a new current of anxious people pressuring their way in while the few tried to fight their way out. I even had a little trouble myself pushing out.

Finally we depart to the street and arrive a little early to scope out the scene. We find the apartment and then go to a little brasserie to kill some time and maybe watch some sports. My French get's tested as we order a drink and I ask for the Toilettes. I can tell I'm getting better, but not even close because the waiter immediately switched to English and told us what they had. Ah, it's frustrating. We go back to the apartment and try to find which door was actually his. You see he told us he lived on left door on the 2nd floor. Easy right? Well not so much when you don't know if the bottom floor is the first or zero floor... then once you climb the stairs, which are like the narrow binding spiral staircase the doors, there is one on the left and then a tight turn and two more. So you think to yourself ok, obviously the one on the left is the far left, not the little turn and the door on the left, or would he have said the first door instead of the left door?? Is it the second floor or the third floor? About this time the lights go out... remember the energy conservation... Yeah.

Anyways we find the door it's the far left one on the 3rd floor. Jean Jaques is a really neat guy. Think Albert Einstein white hair but curly a tall guy as well who gives off the air of intelligence. Later we find out he is a math and physics teacher, no wonder. He is a really nice guy, one I enjoyed just sitting down and talking with about everything. From politics and Obama, to the lack of religion in France and his own "Catholicism" eventhough he openly stated he didn't believe in God, too French people and their customs, to traveling in America and his experiences with Matt's aunt and uncle, and all sorts of things in between. It feels really good to have a real intellectual conversation, not one where it is just a dump of information, where you feel good about spilling your knowledge on someone else, but a Real conversation. One where both parties leave thinking differently. I thuroughly enjoyed it.

We also meet his son who was 26, named Camille. He is in school fixing to take his finals exam. In France the government controls the hiring of civil servants, i.e. teachers, and they do not need a whole lot at this time. Basically it depends on whose retired. This is a lot different from the US where we are in need of teachers, strike that... in need of GOOD teachers. Apparently he has to be first or second on his exam out of the 10 or so registered. This is for a job outside of Paris in the suburbs. Maybe we'll get to go out with him some night.

Ok so lets get to the dinner itself. A masterpiece in it's own rite...this is saying something when coming from France the home of some pretty great art, like Matisse, Kandinsky, Monet, Van Gogh, etc... Now that I've got your attention, let me make you really taste the food. Of course too begin with we have a baggette and some wine. Let's stop there. First, Jean Jaques didn't know if we would like wine being American, but wanting to experience all that is France we had to oblige. (side note, I'm falling for the cheese, wine and bread mix) So Jean Jaques goes down to his celluar or bottom holding cell in the apartment complex and grabs a bottle of red wine. I don't know what kind it was, but let me just say it was amazing. Apparently he get's the barrels, yes that's right the barrels of wine and bottles them himself. Wow. It tastes really good, not to sweet, not too dry, and a great taste.

After we get through munching on the bread, and the small breadsticks he brought. We are treated we Confit de Canard. A nice duck leg that falls off the bone. I don't know how often I've eaten duck, or if I even have before...I'm not sure. The taste makes me want to eat it again. It's a darker meat and each bite is filled with flavor. He also brings Pomme duchess a bite size deep fried potatoe mix, which is really tasty and compliments the meat. It's also accompanied by a side salad. The meal is great, even better the conversation. We are then treated with a nice taste of a fine French cheese. I don't know if I've spoken much about French cheese's, but the stronger the smell the better the taste! I mean it's pretty intense and alone, I don't think it would be very good... but the mix is great and really works.

Next we have a digestion to help ease the stomach and clear the palate for dessert. Digestion for this meal consists of a strong Eastern European rum. I really don't know, but it was a Slovakian looking bottle that I couldn't comprehend. Afterwards, he brings out a nice lemon cake and a caramel creme that has the consistency of flan. It is really sweet and with the lemon cake it is a good match. Finish that off with a small sip of courvoisier or Cognac and you have yourself home cooked French meal number 2. It really was quite an enjoyable experience, expecially when we had no clue what to expect. I mean go meet some random guy for dinner. Who knows how that's gonna end up...

Afterwards we head over to the train to meet up with some of Matt's French connections. Apparently a sister of someone he knew from home. We make our way to some place called footsie. This place is one of the neatest concepts I've ever seen. If I owned a bar I would totally do this. So you walk in and above the bar you notice ticker takes...kind of odd. I mean maybe this is the hang out for financial traders, whatever.... but then you notice that instead of companies it is types of drinks served. Every 5 mins or so the new stock prices come in, depending on the products sold last round and demand, much like the real stock market. So let's say I buy a coke and a budweiser (btw this is the first place I've seen with the american classic....mostly bc American beer is not highly regarded here (it's just weaker) ) the next five mins both coke and bud will increase in prices. Maybe some other things will decrease and intice you to buy. The key though is as the night progresses you consistently raise the overall average price of drinks thus making more money and inticing more buying so people feel they got a "deal".

It was a neat place, we meet all the friends and they're a breath of fresh American air. You have Kerri, the sister, Rob, the sister's boyfriend celebrating his 21st birthday even though it's not his 21st b-day but apparently he'll be in Morocco so c'est la vie, Caroline, a friend, Ellis and Andrew, and Jessie, the friend in town for a couple of days looking at a school in Europe to get a masters, but turns out I think he broke up with his girlfriend and left the country. He's a small town guy, so I kind of like him, he has his own business or something, but he spits a little when he talks. Atleast he has some good thinks to talk about though. Kind of like the guy. So that was the crew.

We hang out at footsie and then around 12:30 or so Matt and I decide to leave so we can make the 1am final train ride to Cergy.... Did I say 1, bc that's what I thought it was until I got told other wise by the crew. Apparently the last ride was 12. Great. What do I do? How bout make the night neverending...

We stay a little longer and then make our way to a bus stop and hop on. Bus rides at night are a tad bit creepy in the middle of Paris. Not to friendly, and the people are a little bit odd. So this we hop on and I don't quite catch what happens but Kerri moves away kind of upset. Some weird guy is speaking French. Rob follows Kerri, then out of no where a couple mins later, Rob is a little upset and goes Hulk on us and tries to push his way to creepy guy... OK. This is not going to happen. Can't happen. Won't let it. We calm Rob down, find out the guy touched her or something so we hop off and end up at some other place which seems pretty normal.

It's some type of hideout place or something because you walk around and it looks pretty normal but then we follow the crew and end up in some old cave type of thing that looks like it was used as a wine cellar back in the day. It's been converted into a small lounge, a bar, and a downstairs dance club. It's crazy. We dance a little bit and they start pumping some spanish salsa and I see some Spanish group singing loudly and I think to myself. Here I am in some English type of bar, in some under ground cave, in the middle of Paris, from the United States, listening to Spanish music while some spanish crew salsa's to it. What? .... no really.... What? I just laugh, "life is in the journey."

We make our way out and some weird guy is following us. We hop on various buses, passing different landmarks on the late night bus. Jump off finally evading weirdo and then walk about a mile or so to the University where the crew is in school and living. Thankfully the have been gracious enough to accomodate Matt and I for a few hours before we can hop onto the next train to Cergy. We end up staying in a room with only one small twin size bed. I'm 6'4" and matt's probably 6'1" or 6'2".... Great... oddly enough there is a student in the dorm hall carrying a matress. Someone inside thinks I've lost it when I start ranting to him about can I borrow your matress. Too bad he was visiting too and borrowing someone elses who was out of town. My powers of persuasion must be a tad bit off...

So me and matt made do and napped for a couple hours before waking up and catching the morning train to Cergy, which thankfully the stop was right across the street from the University. We made it back to Cergy around 11am in a neverending night. I am just thankful for the experience and the story to tell.