Ducks, Duck Shoes and Painting

Another duck story, I’m sorry….Last night at dinner another couple had arrived, so Brigitte and Phillipe were cooking up awesome food as usual. The main dish was pasta, which of course came with duck, cheese, bread and a couple more goodies. The duck was on the side, so I thought I’d take a duck break for the night. Brigitte handed me my pasta and pointed to the duck, “you put duck in pasta” she says….Why of course the duck goes in the pasta, because why the hell wouldn’t it? It’s looking like I’m going to be solely responsible for putting the beloved duck on the endangered species list. While I’m sitting around on my fat ass looking and feeling like octomom, the duck will be no more. Perhaps I should start a petition to save the ducks now?

Side note: Check out this website! http://flashduck09.blogspot.com/2009/08/step-in-right-direction-for-lucky-duck.html

While looking for this duck picture, I also found a hilarious duck article about ducks and orthopedic shoes, don't worry it's not long. This is the future I'm talking about, take the time.

Anyways, I’ve actually been doing some work the last few days. I now know how to make a bed properly (this doesn’t mean I will ever make my own) and I am working on my painting skills. Brigitte really should know better than to leave me unsupervised with buckets of paint, but I guess she trusts in my skills better than I do. But a big thanks to baby Jesus, that whoever attempted to paint the room before me must have been blind and armless. There was no way I could have done a worse job and Brigitte managed to spill paint on the bed and all over the floor. With the bar set low, I succeeded. Most of the paint that didn’t end up on the wall ended up on me, which is better than the antiques. I’m like a magnet for food and dirt, which worked out well for once. I was wearing one of Phillipe’s old shirts that went down to my shins, so most of me was covered anyway. Oh, and I got to paint the ceiling, while standing on a ladder from about the time this place was built (11th century...). It took Brigitte and I pulling on the ladder for a good few minutes to make it open and once we got it just about right, some important looking metal piece broke in two. This is when Brigitte said that the ladder was okay, handed it to me and let me get started. I guess we don’t have the same safety expectations. 

Fixing the Fat and Wild Pig Riding

Wild Pig

After yet another delicious meal last night, I decided somewhere in between the duck and the chicken dish that running had to become a priority. I woke up this morning, buttered my bread and tied on my running shoes. Running really isn't so bad when it's in the French countryside instead of the Cincinnati ghetto. Surprise, surprise right? Well, about 20 minutes away, I remembered back to the car ride with Brigitte from the train station and a little piece of information she gave me...that there are wild pigs out here. Seriously? A great thing to remember about halfway out. I would. And who the hell has ever seen a wild pig? Of course I looked it up, and here we go, please look left. I think this kid has the right idea though. If I see one of these on my next run, you better believe I'm riding it home and eating it for dinner.

In order to not get myself lost I decided to pretend I was Zoolander and was unable to make left turns. Obviously on the way back was a reverse Zoolander, but you get what I'm going for. I thought this idea was genius until my continuous right turns took me past an over-sized cross made of wood and what looked like a tent city....I kept running and decided not to question or slow down. Maybe tomorrow I will take a different route, considering no car passed me the entire time I was gone. Maybe people out here know better than to take that road...

How to Get Fat in France

Step 1: Eat this for lunch....

Too many Google results for "food coma"

• Duck
• Bread
• More duck
• Pig 
• Raw Oysters
• Some type of fish
• Wine
• More duck

Dog version of me

Well, that's the only real step I guess. And needless to say, a food coma came on quickly. I almost didn't make it up the stairs in time.

Besides eating, for my first real day yesterday, I woke up late and went on an adventure with Owen the dog. I also brought in some wood. I figured something productive should happen during the day. And wood was for sure the only thing I actually did. Brigitte and Phillipe have friends visiting, so as soon as they got here, out came the champagne, souffle, salami, nuts and olives...this was just the beginning. Then we moved on to dinner. For dinner was a beef stew (please note it wasn't duck this time) and a cucumber salad and of course some red wine. I lied when I said besides eating. This is really more of a food blog, all I do is eat and then pass out because I ate too much. It's easy to eat too much when everyone is speaking French but me. My 10 key phrases that I have learned aren't really ones to throw into the conversation. I think it would be rude and confusing to ask where the bathroom is or how to get to my train. I've become really really good at sitting and listening to French though. It's good motivation to use the hell out of my French books.

How I must look to everyone when I'm listening

On a totally different note, I think I should share with America that fridges are totally last season....The fridge is bare here because the eggs...they sit out, the cheese....there's a cabinet for it, the meat....it hangs in the kitchen (that's what she said). I haven't gotten sick from eating all of this, so I am really confused why everything gets refrigerated and why everyone is so paranoid about gets things into a cold place. Chill out (you, not the food), apparently it doesn't matter.

Cheese cabinet

Note: I will try to use less animal pictures in upcoming posts, this is not a promise, but I will try my best. They just work so well!

Alright, I'm out, I think it's about eatin' time, which means it's also about nappin' time.

Bienvenue a St Michel

Leaving the Paris airport did not come soon enough! I managed to kill 12 hours but it was some of the longest hours of my life...people just aren't that weird in Paris. There aren't any fatties and people are pretty fashionable, minus some crazy ass heals here and there. Overall, the people watching sucked. I ended up roaming around a lot and drinking way too much coffee to stay awake. Luckily, all the issues with the sim card for my phone took up a decent amount of time but also gave me a raging headache since no one wanted to help a sister out and try to speak some English. I understand it's France and I should be speaking French, I definitely tried my best, but some things are not easy to translate. Enough airport crap.

So, this is totally how it looks out here, more pictures to come obviously. I plan on doing some exploring with my camera later today. My host, Brigitte, met me at the train station last night and the first thing I got to eat for my midnight snack was brie and other cheese, bread and duck. I am already in love with this place. The duck is pretty plentiful out here I guess, so I think my diet will consist of mainly duck and cheese. I am more than okay with this. I had better not try to make any duck friends around here though, I don't think the friendship would last long.

Fun fact: this "city" of St Michel consists of 4 houses....and I'm in one of them, ha! I am way more in the middle of nowhere than I thought I'd be, so I have no idea how this traveling around thing is going to work. I guess my international drivers license will be coming in handy instead. And there should be another 2 work-awayers coming into town in 10 days, so I will have people to hang out with!

I think it's time to go exploring...

Ah, the smell of cologne and cigarettes…Salut Paris!

After a 20 min car ride and an 8 hour flight, I am now killing 12 hours in the Paris airport until I get to take 2 trains for 5 hours and then a car ride to St Michel. Someone shoot me please.

Luckily my flight turned out pretty awesome for the following reasons: 1. No babies, score! 2. Some angel at the ticket desk gave me 2 drink tickets that I didn’t even need to use because wine was free-fifty. 3. The flight was empty so I had 2 seats to lounge in while watching my shows. The flight attendant didn’t seem too judgmental, so I proceeded to drink at least a bottle of wine out of my classy plastic cup until I fell into a wine coma about halfway into the second movie. As homeless as that sounds, I am not ashamed of my actions. Once the wine wore off, I awoke to a banana and a breakfast sando! Now, the breakfast sandwich tasted like cold shit, but it’s the thought that counts right? So, thank you Delta for such a pleasant trip.

Now for some sweet ass people watching! Unfortunately, I don’t think Frenchies will be nearly as entertaining as Americans, but you better believe if something weird is going on I’ll be lurking in the shadows watching. Wow, I’m a total creep. Whatev.