The Visitors, Pt. II
Just as my family was on their way out of Paris, my buddy Josh McCormill was on his way in from Florida to hang out for the long Thanksgiving weekend. My liver is still not on speaking terms with me…
The night he came in, we met up with Sarah and her friends at AUP for Happy Hour at their on-campus bar (I’ve said it before, this school is ridiculous), then hung out at O’Briens, where Josh and I presided over the European Mensa Convention. (I’m only describing the night portions of Josh’s visit, because during the daytime I was always out of it/writing papers/studying for two disgusting tests that I had on Monday and Wednesday, so it’s likely that nothing interesting happened anyway). That said, the next night after we had dinner with my family, Josh, Sarah and I met up with some of her friends at a weird European/American house party, then after getting yelled at by the neighbors in the building, we all headed to a cool British joint down called the Long Hop. When that place got old, we headed up into the Latin Quarter to a place called Hurling Pub - a fitting name for a friend of a friend of Sarah’s who joined us.
After we were all kicked out at 2am, which is semi-standard bar closing time around Paris, I introduced Josh to the most immaculate of all the late-night cuisine Paris has to offer: the Greek Sandwich. You begin with a gigantic meat cone (I think it’s chicken, but I have utterly no clue what delicious animal it’s made of), shave off chunks of it into a greasy pan with a tool that looks like hair clippers, then throw it into a piece of bread with lettuce, tomatoes and sketchy yogurt sauce, cover it in salty French fries, and twist it into a paper cone. They are actually scientifically proven to save lives when eaten after a long night of drinking - Josh and I have Bachelors of Science degrees, therefore we are scientists. Hence, eating Greek Sandwiches and not being as hungover the next morning is scientific proof that they’re amazing. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
The next day, after our swift recovery, Josh and I made fun of awful French TV and checked out Montmartre hill (yeah, I’m getting tired of that place) then met up at Sarah’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, planned by her great roommate, who is also named Sarah, which makes life easier for me whenever I hang out over there. We had a big crowd and a ton of food, including Tofurkey (“turkey” patties for the vegetarians made of soybeans and a dash of sand, I guess – actually they weren’t half bad) and my rendition of Mom’s famous sweet potato casserole, which contains more butter, sugar and marshmallows by weight than it does actual sweet potatoes.
After dinner, we headed to a karaoke bar nearby and after drinking what’s called a “Giraffe” of beer, Josh and I belted out R. Kelly’s “Ignition” and “YMCA,” which was probably a mistake, as karaoke usually tends to be. I spent Sunday studying while Josh hit the town again, and I had an Accounting test on Monday, so I was forced to go out afterwards; we met up with my classmates Will and Ashish at the Frog and Princess for yet another European Mensa Convention. Somehow, despite a fruitless 2am search for Greek Sandwiches that night after closing down the bar, we managed to wake up and get Josh out to the train station in time for him to get to CDG to catch his plane.
I had an absolutely horrible Finance test yesterday, then Sarah and I joined most of my class on the Bateaux Mouches afterwards, which is a big, flat boat that cruises up and down the Seine River with obnoxious loudspeakers talking about the sights in 10 different languages. We then ate dinner at an awesome North African/Mediterranean place called Seventh Sud and spent the rest of the night hanging out with Ashish, Will and Anthony the Stripping Hippie from class.
So that’s about it – I can’t believe it’s December; I’m already starting to get depressed about leaving this place. I’ve been here for less than three months, but I feel very at home, despite the language barrier and some of the little cultural differences that I have to put up with every now and then. School has been incredibly busy for the last few weeks, although our MBA Happy Hours are still going strong – here we are teaching our Iraqi classmate Armand how to drink Irish Car Bombs. The Americans have challenged the rest of the class to a bowling match in the near future, so that should be interesting. Ok, I’ve been recycling clothes a little too much lately (hey, as long as it’s not underwear, who cares?), so I’m going to hit the laundromat.
The night he came in, we met up with Sarah and her friends at AUP for Happy Hour at their on-campus bar (I’ve said it before, this school is ridiculous), then hung out at O’Briens, where Josh and I presided over the European Mensa Convention. (I’m only describing the night portions of Josh’s visit, because during the daytime I was always out of it/writing papers/studying for two disgusting tests that I had on Monday and Wednesday, so it’s likely that nothing interesting happened anyway). That said, the next night after we had dinner with my family, Josh, Sarah and I met up with some of her friends at a weird European/American house party, then after getting yelled at by the neighbors in the building, we all headed to a cool British joint down called the Long Hop. When that place got old, we headed up into the Latin Quarter to a place called Hurling Pub - a fitting name for a friend of a friend of Sarah’s who joined us.
After we were all kicked out at 2am, which is semi-standard bar closing time around Paris, I introduced Josh to the most immaculate of all the late-night cuisine Paris has to offer: the Greek Sandwich. You begin with a gigantic meat cone (I think it’s chicken, but I have utterly no clue what delicious animal it’s made of), shave off chunks of it into a greasy pan with a tool that looks like hair clippers, then throw it into a piece of bread with lettuce, tomatoes and sketchy yogurt sauce, cover it in salty French fries, and twist it into a paper cone. They are actually scientifically proven to save lives when eaten after a long night of drinking - Josh and I have Bachelors of Science degrees, therefore we are scientists. Hence, eating Greek Sandwiches and not being as hungover the next morning is scientific proof that they’re amazing. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
The next day, after our swift recovery, Josh and I made fun of awful French TV and checked out Montmartre hill (yeah, I’m getting tired of that place) then met up at Sarah’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, planned by her great roommate, who is also named Sarah, which makes life easier for me whenever I hang out over there. We had a big crowd and a ton of food, including Tofurkey (“turkey” patties for the vegetarians made of soybeans and a dash of sand, I guess – actually they weren’t half bad) and my rendition of Mom’s famous sweet potato casserole, which contains more butter, sugar and marshmallows by weight than it does actual sweet potatoes.
After dinner, we headed to a karaoke bar nearby and after drinking what’s called a “Giraffe” of beer, Josh and I belted out R. Kelly’s “Ignition” and “YMCA,” which was probably a mistake, as karaoke usually tends to be. I spent Sunday studying while Josh hit the town again, and I had an Accounting test on Monday, so I was forced to go out afterwards; we met up with my classmates Will and Ashish at the Frog and Princess for yet another European Mensa Convention. Somehow, despite a fruitless 2am search for Greek Sandwiches that night after closing down the bar, we managed to wake up and get Josh out to the train station in time for him to get to CDG to catch his plane.
I had an absolutely horrible Finance test yesterday, then Sarah and I joined most of my class on the Bateaux Mouches afterwards, which is a big, flat boat that cruises up and down the Seine River with obnoxious loudspeakers talking about the sights in 10 different languages. We then ate dinner at an awesome North African/Mediterranean place called Seventh Sud and spent the rest of the night hanging out with Ashish, Will and Anthony the Stripping Hippie from class.
So that’s about it – I can’t believe it’s December; I’m already starting to get depressed about leaving this place. I’ve been here for less than three months, but I feel very at home, despite the language barrier and some of the little cultural differences that I have to put up with every now and then. School has been incredibly busy for the last few weeks, although our MBA Happy Hours are still going strong – here we are teaching our Iraqi classmate Armand how to drink Irish Car Bombs. The Americans have challenged the rest of the class to a bowling match in the near future, so that should be interesting. Ok, I’ve been recycling clothes a little too much lately (hey, as long as it’s not underwear, who cares?), so I’m going to hit the laundromat.
posted by corbinski at 12:02 PM
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