Quick Update

I spent too much time sending bumper stickers to my friends on Facebook and now I don’t have much time to write, but…

Okay first of all, everyone wants pictures. I took some last night, but like an idiot, I forgot that my memory card was still in my stupid laptop in the dorm room. Thus, I’m not going to be able to retrieve the pictures from last night until I get home, and maybe not even then, as I am not entirely sure where my cable has gone that connects my laptop to my camera… Anyways. I promise to be less stupid and take more.

I went out to dinner last night with my new friends. It was a big group of about 10 or so, and we headed down to the Notre Dame area. We were in pursuit of a Latin restaurant, but we got a little turned around. There are so many restaurants down there, and so many side streets with so many people and all of these neon lights, it’s easy to forget where you were the night before. We decided to pick one of the many, many restaurants around instead of fruitlessly continuing the search for the Latin place. One restaurant had a woman outside desperately trying to pull people in. She promised us each a free glass of wine. While we stood there mulling it over, she beckoned to me with a short, tan finger.

“You eat here, it’s good, promise,” she said with a heavy French accent.

“I have to go where they go.” I waved my hand at my friends, who were now quietly discussing the possibility that this might be one of those restaurants where they drug you and cut out your kidneys for sale on the black market. The stout little woman seemed to eager.

“You eat here. You no like? You no pay! Talk to them!” She winked at me.

I walked over to my friends, who were just deciding that due to her persistance, we couldn’t eat here.

“We’ll come back!” we shouted as we took off down the street.

A little ways down I found a nice looking little French place. It had these deals where for 10 or 15 Euro you could pick an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert. (Many French restaurants are set up like this actually, especially in touristy areas.) No one was pressuring us at the door, and some of the people inside were actually speaking French. We asked if they had room for all of us, and we were shown to a nearly empty dining area up stairs. We all fit quite nicely.

The waiter was friendly and patient with our mistakes, and although he knew a little English, kept speaking to us in French, perhaps sensing we wanted the practice. He smiled a lot, making the girls giggle with his dark good looks and smooth attitude.

In France, eating is not just eating, it’s a social activity. The waiters are not simply waiters to get from one job to the next, or to pay the bills, it is actually a calling for them. They give you plenty of time to talk and eat between each course. So the whole affair took about 2 hours, but it was really enjoyable. We all had a little bit of wine, took pictures, and played with a cat named Manuela, who lives in the cafe and is extremely friendly. When we left, we made sure to leave a tip, despite it being non-traditional.

I have to go now to get to class but I will write more later…