On Our Way to Paris/The Boy Who Wouldn't Shut Up

It finally came! Diesel's and my trip to Paris. Catching the flight was quite stressful, as we had to get up at 5am on Sunday morning and drive down to Seattle from the Baker cabin. You see, our friends Rebeca, Steve and Heidi threw a big party at the cabin to celebrate their 40th, 40th, and 30th bdays, respectively, so on Sat afternoon Diesel and I made the 2.5 hr drive to Baker and, in a ambitious, yet utterly stupid plan, decided to drive back to Seattle at 5 so we could make a 7:30-8am stop at the Danskin triathlon to cheer on our friends Tarah and Regina, who were doing their first tri.

After gett pulled over by a cop but not getting a speeding ticket despite doing 57 on a 35mph road, we cheered Tarah on but missed Regina :(

Back at our apartment, we showered, grabbed our bags and got a ride from my sis to the airport. The flight to Chicago was a lovely flight in business class with a free meal and a separate bathroom from the plebe.

The Chicago to Paris flight, on the other hand was in economy class, which is fine cuz, as you can tell from the previous paragraph, I'm no snob. However, right off the bat this 7-year-old boy who was sitting next to us started talking. Yapping really. It was an ominous sign to a long and sleepless night.

I might exaggerate sometimes, but I kid you not when I tell you that the kid yapped non-stop from the time we took off to the time we landed. It was a 9-hour flight during which 8 hours were spent yapping away and one hour going to the bathroom and walking aimlessly in the forbidden aisles of business class, where he got kicked out of.

Anyhow, curiously enough; his mother, father and sister were all sitting in adjacent seats in the row in front of him. He was the only member of his OWN family that was sitting in the row next to ours. Did his mom KNOW something we didn't???

So as I mentioned and reitterated, the kid's yapping continued through the night, even after the lights went out and most of the passengers went to sleep. It got so bad that Diesel woke up from the little sleep he could get with the sole purpose of shushing the boy. Even after a loud SHHHHH the boy continued yapping--I guess in his defense I have to say that he turned it down a tad. But he did NOT, I repeat, did NOT stop talking.

The next morning breakfast was being served, and the flight attendants went around with the drinks cart. Upon being asked what he wanted, the boy said: "coffee."

COFFEE? COFFEE??? NO WONDER!!!!! The flight attendant was taken aback and had to confirm with the boy's mom that he was allowed to have some. Unfazed, the mother--who let me remind you, was NOT sitting next to her own son--replied with an emphatic "YES."

Judge me if you want, but it just seems unfair to me that a parent would give her already hyperactive kid nature's version of Red Bull and let him go wild on a night flight annoying the hell out of the other passengers (and by "other passengers" I mean ME), when what he really needed was a big dose of ridelin.

All I can say is that after that, French will never again be the language of l'amour et romance; instead, it'll be forever tarnished by the boy that wouldn't shut up.

Vive la France!

To celebrate Bastille Day, my good friend Ben and I decided to celebrate all things French on Saturday.

Ben is a self-proclaimed francophile. And if you count watching "Nouvelle Star" (the French version of "American Idol") on YouTube and having completed three months of French class (as of today), I guess you can count me in as one of those people as well.

Anyhow, our soirée started with dinner at Maximilien, which is coincidentally the French restaurant where Tim proposed after a private cooking class with Chef Willy. Chef Willy, now the manager, is also a friend of Ben's, a noteworthy fact, since it got us one of the best tables on the deck as well as complimentary champagne!

We ordered from the Bastille Day menu special. I had the endive/frisee salad, but Ben preferred to order the gaspacho (not very French, I know). The endives in my salad could have been a bit crispier, but overall I enjoyed the light dish, which went well with the warm summer evening. For our plat principal we both had the lamb with roasted veggies. Not exactly sure what part of the lamb it was, but it was a bit overdone. The rich sauce and the veggies were very good though. And to wrap it up, we both had the tarte aux pommes, which was delicious. I ate mine and half of Ben's. We also got the wine course, which consisted of a wine pairing with each of the courses. For somebody who can't even finish a glass, the 3 glasses + champagne were a bit much, and I was a bit drunk by the time dessert was served. Oh well, vive la France!

All of the diners were serenaded by a quartet playing nice old-school French music.

We talked to the chef/manager some more and then I met Axel, the restaurant owner. It was a very exciting moment indeed. It's too bad Diesel couldn't come (he's been is Australia since last Monday). He would have loved it.

After dessert we had to rush to the movie theater to watch Paris, Je T'Aime, a collection of vignettes about love and life in the City of Lights. Each segment was directed by a different director. Some bigshots such as the Coen Brothers and other high-profile international directors such as Walter Salles leave their mark. I highly recommend this charming movie, even if you're not a francophile. That was the perfect end to the perfect evening. Next year there'll be even more wine and more fun in celebration of Bastille Day! This all made me even more excited about our trip to Paris at the end of August.