Tuesday, May 15, 2007
I suppose we all need a Francophile moment at one point in our lives. I have been fortunate enough to have had more than one. For example, the very best peach I ever ate in my life was in France. I remember it vividly. I also think one of the reasons why I remember it so vividly is because I have written about it once before on this blog, and therefore remember it more clearly than I would otherwise - had I not written about it in detail. Well, regardless of whether that is true or not, the fact remains that the best peach I have ever eaten in my life was in Jean Les Pins, in May of 2005. Admittedly, I am about to write about this in a way too embellished fashion, but bear with me...
I remember I saw the peach the day before I actually tasted it. I had even held it in my hands the day before I tasted it. It was easily the best of a very nice bunch, but nevertheless, it smelled better, felt better and just genuinely had it going on. I think I have a pretty good nose for fruit and this one was my best selection to date. However, I could not taste it the day I found it. The train to Cannes was leaving in less than five minutes, and although the shop was only across the street from the train station, I still ran out of time and had to put the peach back on the shelf. Cause when I got there, the shopkeeper was in the backroom doing his sublimations. He was a Muslim and it was time to pray. And he was praying as I held the peach in my hand and stood by the register (Side note: The song I'm listening to right now "You Know I Couldn't Last" by Morrissey, just sang the words cash register as I was typing register in the last sentence, swear to god.) And I'm not about to interrupt a man in the middle of praying to buy a 45-cent peach. The man was into it and I wasn't about to stop him. So, and with a heavy heart, I replaced the peach. Sure that it would be gone when I returned the next day.
But it wasn't. I saw the damn thing and freaked out. I think I may have said something out loud. I was on my way back to the hotel the next day and I stopped by the shop and saw the same dude, but he wasn't praying and then I saw the same peach. It was a white peach and it was the frickin best one I ever ate.
That's probably number one on the list. And I totally admit that this is a ridiculous amount of feeling to have for a peach, but sometimes it's fun to exaggerate to the point of ridiculousness.
Number two on the list happened in a train, and this bodes well for my next few days, when I will be spending several hours on a train in France. Well, on the train from either to or from the festival and the hotel, there was a group of young French twenty-somethings and they were a loud bunch. Sure I didn't understand a word of what they said, but after something was said, one of the girls said, "Ooo la la." And that was quickly followed by a guy saying (and I hope I can spell this to match the sound) "Onhh, hunh, huh," and this was quickly followed by the same thing but in a different tone. It was literally THE most stereotypical cartoonish thing that any French person can say, and they all said it. Right there on the train.
I also think that there were some other moments involving snails and other recently living, slimy creatures, served on a platter with a lot of lemon, but those two before are at the top.
So I mention this because on Thursday I will be flying to Paris and then taking a 5 hour train ride to Cannes. And then the following Wednesday I will take the same train back. And, as it would happen, I have just started to read Les Miserables. I am about to get all sorts of French on your ass.
I remember I saw the peach the day before I actually tasted it. I had even held it in my hands the day before I tasted it. It was easily the best of a very nice bunch, but nevertheless, it smelled better, felt better and just genuinely had it going on. I think I have a pretty good nose for fruit and this one was my best selection to date. However, I could not taste it the day I found it. The train to Cannes was leaving in less than five minutes, and although the shop was only across the street from the train station, I still ran out of time and had to put the peach back on the shelf. Cause when I got there, the shopkeeper was in the backroom doing his sublimations. He was a Muslim and it was time to pray. And he was praying as I held the peach in my hand and stood by the register (Side note: The song I'm listening to right now "You Know I Couldn't Last" by Morrissey, just sang the words cash register as I was typing register in the last sentence, swear to god.) And I'm not about to interrupt a man in the middle of praying to buy a 45-cent peach. The man was into it and I wasn't about to stop him. So, and with a heavy heart, I replaced the peach. Sure that it would be gone when I returned the next day.
But it wasn't. I saw the damn thing and freaked out. I think I may have said something out loud. I was on my way back to the hotel the next day and I stopped by the shop and saw the same dude, but he wasn't praying and then I saw the same peach. It was a white peach and it was the frickin best one I ever ate.
That's probably number one on the list. And I totally admit that this is a ridiculous amount of feeling to have for a peach, but sometimes it's fun to exaggerate to the point of ridiculousness.
Number two on the list happened in a train, and this bodes well for my next few days, when I will be spending several hours on a train in France. Well, on the train from either to or from the festival and the hotel, there was a group of young French twenty-somethings and they were a loud bunch. Sure I didn't understand a word of what they said, but after something was said, one of the girls said, "Ooo la la." And that was quickly followed by a guy saying (and I hope I can spell this to match the sound) "Onhh, hunh, huh," and this was quickly followed by the same thing but in a different tone. It was literally THE most stereotypical cartoonish thing that any French person can say, and they all said it. Right there on the train.
I also think that there were some other moments involving snails and other recently living, slimy creatures, served on a platter with a lot of lemon, but those two before are at the top.
So I mention this because on Thursday I will be flying to Paris and then taking a 5 hour train ride to Cannes. And then the following Wednesday I will take the same train back. And, as it would happen, I have just started to read Les Miserables. I am about to get all sorts of French on your ass.
