Tour de France

map-of-france.jpgThese past few weeks have been crazy. I’ve been travelling a lot for work. See the map, my own little Tour de France. It started in Rouen, then Strasbourg, Toulouse and now Marseille and next week Strasbourg again. It hasn’t been any major international travelling that involved jet-lag, but sitting on boring trains or airplanes just killed meand made me feel completely jet-lagged. I slept as little as 4 hours per night and wouldn’t be surprised if I fell sick as soon as Christmas shows up.

hpim0552.jpgI had never seen Strasbourg around Christmas. Everyone told me “oh Strasbourg around Christmas is beautiful! The whole city’s tastefully decorated and its Christmas market is just the best”. I had very high expectations although I expected the market to be a rip off . I thought to myself: “hm… I’ve travelled so much, I’ve seen it all, I’ve seen Scandinavian and German Christmas markets and was little impressed so why would I be impressed now?” (I thought, in my very presumptuous and blasé little mind). So even though I was really impressed by the decorations, the Christmas market was not worth a rabbit’s fart (as we’d say in southern French…).

hpim0555.jpgLike! HELLO! Why would dolls wearing an Alsatian hat made in Taiwan be interesting to anyone? Like! HELLO!

Note to self on that day: Never buy a hand-painted plate just because the little Rumanian granny who sold it looked sad and poor.

Anyway, I stayed there for a week and worked. I did pay a visit to my girlfriend…


the Strasbourg Cathedral, the most beautiful cathedral in France. Its red stones, its majestic appearance when you first see it, a little bit like a giant motor or a monument taken from Gotham City in Batman. I spent my evenings roaming the streets, walking around on my own, doing a little bit of suggestopedia. I know suggestopedia is used in the wrong sense here, but my suggestopedia is taking pictures and imagining stories out of nothing, forcing myself to pretend that, for a short while, my life is fun and interesting…

And then I went back to Paris and saw this guy’s concert at the Boule Noire. It was fantastic. He’s from Québec, and I’m wondering why are all these people so gifted out there? (I’m not including Céline you-know-who in this category though. I’m sorry but I really dislike her).

Note to seld on that day: Speak French with a Canadian accent and sound terribly sexy.

And then I had to head south. To Toulouse. The pink city as we call it here. And when you look at it, you understand why they call it the pink city.

It’s all pink.

Well, not pink as in Pink Panther pink, but rather pink. Or at least pink enough to not be red or brown.

Anyway. Toulouse is also beautiful. But I didn’t have time to do any suggestopedia there as I had left my camera at home… darn. So apart from work I stuffed myself with Cassoulet, a beans-based-musical-dish that kills stomachs and then ended up crashing in my hotel, munching on very artificial candy and watch an American movie on cable TV till 2am.

Note to self on that day: Don’t watch a movie till 2 friggin’ a.m. when after the first few minutes of a movie, you can foresee that the good looking chick is going to get into Ashton Kutcher’s pants anyway.

I love to sleep and I need to sleep a lot. To be humane, I need to sleep at least 9 hours straight. But I do that during the weekends only as I always go to bed too late during the week. Trying to pretend I have a life after work. Does that happen to you too?

After a few days I flew back to Paris. The great event of the year was going to take place on the next day. My sister’s wedding. It was great. Great basically because it didn’t feel like a regular wedding. In my family, we’re not too much into traditions, so no church, no guests and no dress. We just went to the city-hall, the bride wore tight black pants, they both said “oui”, the whole 7 of us headed for the restaurant and pigged out all afternoon. Just the essentials basically. But I was so tired this whole time that I just felt like sleeping during the meal and all that Champagne gave me the hiccups for quite a few hours. Well, until Mr. B and I went to our next invitation that same night.

Note to self on that day: Don’t get wasted on the day before your sister’s wedding and don’t go out again on the night of the wedding.

After a few hours sleep I remembered I had a theater lesson on Sunday. Ran there. Jumped up and down. The class’s topic of the day was “becoming conscious of your bodily kinesthetics on stage”. Go figure. I didn’t really pay attention to the objectives of the course except that I really enjoyed the part when we all had to touch each-other, massage each-other and roll on the floor. Sometimes I wonder whether this is really a theater class or if I haven’t joined some obscure sect without my noticing it.

hpim0619.jpghpim0604.jpgA few hours later I packed my bags again and headed to Marseille. Stayed there for 2 days. The only fun event that took place during these two days was the room with a view that I had from my hotel. I mean look at this. Isn’t that nice? Marseille is crazy and bit scary, so I like it a lot.

Note to self on that day: Don’t start doing laundry at midnight the day before leaving on a business trip.

And voilà, now I’m sitting on this train back to Paris. It is 10 pm and I’ll just get back home in time to throw all my clothes in the washing machine before packing again before going to Strasbourg again. But this time, It won’t be for business. But for PARTAY!

But until then, I’ll be drewling on my shirt, trying to get some sleep on this train. Good-night from

Homeless in France

Note to self: Stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time and enrol in a Frequent Flyer and Train Taker program.


3 Responses

  1. Sounds exhausting…..good luck…and your little video made me sad it was.


  2. he he blogging on the train he he…

    ps: don’t mind me. i’m feeling kinda weird…

  3. did you manage to sleep at all? i can’t sleep unless i am at 180 degrees – completely horizontal. So i feel for you 😦
    but just one more week and it will be Christmas – in other words VACATION baby!!! Hang in there.

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