I didn't mention the FNAC.
Fuh-nack.
That's how you say it. Don't pronounce every letter like YMCA. That's not a thing.
The FNAC visit happened Wednesday after the modern museum. Now, FNAC is this music/book chain. I'm trying to think of what American store I can compare it too. Ah, I dunno.
Anyways for the UF class, we had a little assignment where we went around listening to different French music at the FNAC.
Funny thing is, most young French people love American music (or at least anything other than French artists).
Now I see why.
With the exception of Stromae's Cheese, most of those CDs were not my cup of tea. I looked around in the book section afterward (my sister had requested I bring her back a specific title—she's pretty high maintenance), and I ended up there for quite a while.
Now, most gals in Paris or Italy would have brought back clothes, or jewelry, or some cute nic nac for themselves, but up until that point, I wasn't even thinking of bringing home something.
But there, at the FNAC, I ended up picking up the only thing I bought for myself:
An unabridged copy of Les Trois Mousquetaires.
En français, bien sûr.
----
I can't sleep. So alas, I'm back
I know it seems like no time period elapsed between the part above and what I'm typing now, but it's actually been weeks. This post has just been sitting around as a draft. Ironically enough, with all my free time during winter break I just didn't feel like writing my blog.
But anyways, it's about three in the morning on Saturday, and I can't go to bed so I figured why not write about France? It's funny, sometimes after I've been the most stressed out I find it nice to just sit down and type anew about my adventures from summer. I don't know who's still reading this (if anyone at all) but I have to admit to you guys I write these for me, too.
Sooooo where were we?
Fuh-nack. Well, I got that book and man, you know it's with me right now in Gainesville. If I ever have time again in my life ever, I just might start it. It's a classic, after all. I actually don't really know the story of the three musketeers other than the fact that it's French and was written by straight up baller Alexandre Dumas ( "The Count of Monte Cristo" is one of my favorites), so I'll actually be surprised by the plot. Whoo! No spoilers.
Anyways, I thought about how much I loved the Count of Monte Cristo even when the version I read in high school was the English translation. I knew I wanted to read at least one book from this guy in the original text.
I just spent too much of this post raving about a book I have yet to read. I guess I'll end on a French note.
Sometime this week, I had my last dinner with my host mom. It was either Monday, Tuesday, or the day I'm writing about right now. Who knows at this point. Just to put things in perspective here, I'm writing about Wednesday and I left for the U.S. Saturday, so the title of this post is, well, fitting to say the least.
My host mom told me to prepare a menu of the things I wanted (she's the sweetest) because she wanted to cook me a really French dinner. Well, I was slacking 'cause I was busy with finals, but the one thing we had both already decided on was escargot.
Yes.
About time, right? I mean, who goes to France without trying this stuff?
Verdict?
Not bad! Not bad at all!
Over here in the states, cartoons give us the impression it's like the same type of snails chilling on the pavement outside.
False. *Dwight Schrute voice*—or for my Frenchies— Faux. *voix de Norman*
Anyways, point is it's more like seafood than anything else. It's sort of tradition for escargot to be flavored with this buttery garlic sauce, and my oh my c'était magnifique! J'aime bien cette sauce.
And escargot has got to be the coolest thing to eat.
Like, ever.
I mean, just the whole process I found cool. You hold the shell firm with these silver tongs (almost like the one for boiled eggs I think) and then you take a toothpick and swivel the meat out of the shell.
It was awesome. I mean, how often do you actually find yourself having fun while using your utensils? Forks and spoons are boring, knives get in the way, and chopsticks either slow me down or make me look pretentious.
So, as you can see I was pretty excited about the snails, so I don't remember much else from the dinner. I just remember there was that, good ol', tough French bread that you could knock a person out with. Man, that bread though, just thinking about it makes my teeth yearn for some (yes I mean, teeth, not tongue. I just loved biting into it. Weird, the things you end up missing). Anyways, I've given up trying to recreate the experience with Publix baguettes.
It's not the same quoi.
P.S.
Gary! That's what an escargot is like! A sea snail!
P.S.S.
Sorry, Spongebob.
No comments:
Post a Comment