Spectacular, Spectacular

As I sit here on the train from Paris to Basel listening religiously to my new favorite musician (a Stemo artist some of you might know), I can think of nothing real to write about. Sure, I guess I could describe my past few days in Paris with my dad and Kathy, our experiences at varying restaurants, bars, and tourist sites. I could also detail my Tuesday night spent staring at the half naked women, some of which swam with snakes, of the Moulin Rouge or the mediocre dinner that they happen to serve when you pay Zero Class (cha-ching) prices. But I suppose all that seems pretty petty to me at the moment. I’m not really a pensive guy, at least not at the moment, but I found the inspiration to write. I spent the last hour writing two pages in my journal—two pages about nothing important. Two pages, not about the time spent watching Kathy do what she does best (she does a lot well, but I don’t think she can trump herself in shopping), not about the complaints heard when my dad ordered his ‘martini de pomme’ in Paris and discovered that Parisians don’t know how to make a damned apple martini, but simply writing about nothing.

Right now I’m listening to my Favorite Everything. I’d recommend that you go out and download it, but I’m pretty sure you couldn’t find it anywhere. So instead of telling you all about my time here in Paris or my expectations of the rest of the week in Interlaken and Geneva (which, trust me, will be well documented on here as time rolls on), I’m going to tell you about my favorite everything(s).

Forgive me if this turns into a list, but I will make a futile attempt at a proper explanation of all things, and I will also try to relate all things to my travels somehow, since a lot of my favorite things have, alas, long since been enjoyed.

To start, I enjoy language. It’s amazing here how many people speak more than one, and it’s also pretty amazing that a lot of them don’t speak English. After all, it’s the langua franca, so why don’t they speak it? There are multiple reasons. First and foremost, refusal to accept world domination of the American culture. That being said, I’d like to ask for their Polo shirts, Gant sweaters, Adidas shoes, Tommy Hilfiger pants, Ford cars, and McDonalds (commonly, MacDo’s) to be returned. No complaints. But I do enjoy the opportunity to expose myself to different languages. Unfortunately, when you spend exorbitant time in Paris, you come to realize that while on the surface, it appears to be a welcoming place, they really can be a bunch of self righteous, pretentious assholes. But the city is fun.

Moving on. I like the coffee here. A espresso from Starbucks does more than lack in comparison to a café au lait. My French teacher likens American coffee and, most notably, Starbucks, to brown water. I set myself out on a pedestal with him and agree, America, in all its glory, has horrible coffee.

The history here is pretty stellar. Imagine yourself, for a moment, in…Philly. Ah, good old Ben Franklin, Liberty Bell, and the constitutional convention. Beyond that, you can trace it back just under two hundred years when the Quakers risked life and limb to come to America to start a utopian colony. Now, place yourself, conversely, in Austria (I almost said Paris, but I really have little affinity for the place, so work with me). Austria goes back over 1500 years. The Romans controlled Vienna. Then the Holy Roman Empire. It pushed back the Turks in the 1400’s a few times, and culminated in WWI with the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. A little more interesting, eh?

It’s been just under two months since I left America for the unknown (hey, it was unknown to me). The changes have been subtle. For example, life is the same, but now I write in a blog. I also write in my journal routinely. I speak about the same amount of foreign languages daily as I did at home, but I do it in a less formal, more important environments. I’ve come to appreciate good cheese. (Note: not cutting good cheese, but eating it.) I’ve become accustomed to ordering alcoholic drinks, no questions asked. When I come back across the pond, I’ll have to wait a while before I can order one again. I’ve gotten used to the pants tucked into boots, but ladies, pay attention: they do it with style. Not Uggs. Grow up (some things will never change in me). I’ve made friends with people I would have made fun of or ignored under other circumstances. I’m sure there are many other things, butttttttttttt for now I must bi you farewell and return to my newest challenge—a rubicks cube with a pattern on it. You have to line up each individual cube correctly or it is incorrect.

A bientôt, mes amis.