La mariée est trop belle!

The Daisy Vodka

2007-06-19T08:37:00.000-04:00

Despite my not actually having a job and not even blogging, I've been very busy lately. Régis and I have acquired a wok, a grill, a tarte pan, and some new alcohol. So I made a quiche, which turned out suprisingly well, hamburgers, merguez, chili chicken in the wok, and my new favorite cocktail, the Daisy Vodka.

The Daisy Vodka consists of Sprite, Vodka, fresh lemon juice, Grenadine, and ice, shaken in a cocktail shaker, plus a sugar coating on the glass. Delicious! I have one about every other day. I'm so happy to have found a Frenchie who likes whipping up new cocktails at home. Pretty soon we're going to have a full bar. We've got about 20 different bottles of alcohol, and lots of fun shakers, stirers, measurers, the blender. Now we've just got to acquire some fancy cocktails glasses and we'll be set. At Conforama the other day Régis and I checked out bar stools and bars to put in our next apartment to entertain all his friends. He told me once if he didn't want to make a reasonable amount of money in life he would love to be a bartender. I think he and his friends are cooking up a business plan to open a bar - they've got the finance man, two informatics engineers, and the webmaster. I was informed I get to be the hot American bar maid, and facing my upcoming 8:30 AM - 6 PM cubicle job in September, being a barmaid doesn't sound too bad...

Frank Provost gives the 1,654,321,890th Euro shag cut!

2007-06-08T10:15:00.000-04:00

Well, after being sick of my long hair day after day for the past few weeks I decided to take a trip to the neighborhood Frank Provost at Porte d'Italie. I don't really know why I chose it other than that it looked kind of classy, with big mirrors and cool lighting. I really had no idea if this is a good place to get your hair cut or not. Last year I went to places like Jean-Claude Biguine and never really got a good cut, so I thought I would try something different. And the 35€ for shampooing-coupe-coiffe seemed reasonable (I've paid 80€ before and didn't really see a difference in quality).

So I arrived prepared with a few key words - primarily dégradé (layered), pas trop courte (not too short), and la volume (As in, I don't have any and want some). I asked for the shampooing-coupe-coiffe and was led over to the coat rack where the receptionist helped me put on one of their special Frank Provost jackets. Everything in the store was actually labeled Frank Provost, down the combs and the plastic cup for my café (a nice touch). I had a seat in an empty stylist's chair and waited my turn. I was given a Frank Provost hair style book to look at, mostly filled with short Euro-chic cuts with straight-across-the-forward bangs. Not exactley what I was looking for. The stylist came over and I explained that I didn't have much volume and was tired of the super-long straight hair. It was weighing me down. So we decided how much to cut through an exchange of my French plus head-nodding and shaking. It was an interesting way to communicate, in the very least.

I then got my shampooing which was performed with a little head massage. The stylist asked if I wanted 'un soin' because my hair was 'trés sec' and of course, it would cost 5€ more, or 7€ for a masque, so I politely declined. That is one of the biggest differences between a French and an American salon. In the U.S. they condition your hair with normal hair conditioner for free - you can pay for an upgrade. I've noticed that not too many French women use conditioner. Régis's cousin has really dry hair and I asked if she used conditioner and she looked at me with a very wierd expression and said no. I then explained to her the merits of using conditioner and how it would help her have less frizz and she just looked at me like 'Oh, silly little American girl and her obsession with hair'.. Anyways, back to the visit.

After the shampooing the stylist started to cut, but not after remarking like every single stylist I've ever met - Wow, you're hair is so tangly!!! Yes, I know, thanks.

During the cut I got very scared because of how the stylist was cutting my hair. But I now know it is the secret to the Euro-shaggy-layers cut that I am the proud owner of currently. She drew a zig zag line on both sides of my head and picked up all the hair above the line, pulled it the back and cut it straight across. I almost had a panic attack in the chair - I had never seen someone cut hair like that in all my life. She then took razor scissors and razored almost all of my hair. And voila - I look like a typical parsienne now. Except for the red hair - but I'm not gonna change that! During the cut I also noticed that the stylists don't clean the combs in between clients?? In the US they always have the combs in that funny green solution. The stylist also swept up my hair before blow-drying it. But, the real problem didn't start until after the cut.

When I went to pay they said my American bank card (a Mastercard) wouldn't work, so I had to run to an ATM and come back. They even had a credit-card slide machine that my card typically works on - the owner even thought my card wasn't going to work in an ATM. Very strange. Then I wanted to give 5€ for a tip and the owner just looked at me funny because I kept telling her I should be getting less back. Then I realiwed you have the give the tip directly to the person.. which made for a very, very awkward situation. Half the clients and the stylists were looking at me like I was a very strange individual and I left the place feeling stressed from a situation that should have been a breeze. I must be missing something about how it all works. It's so true that even the simplist tasks in a foreign country end up being long and complicated. But at least my hair looks great!

Big hairy butt with your daily shopping, anyone?

2007-06-06T10:29:00.000-04:00

While innocently minding my own business yesterday, on the way to Monoprix, I had to pass through a small passage between the back of a bus stop and a video store. Three lovely members of Paris's teenager male population were waiting for me. I had to squeeze past two of them while the other was inside the bus stop, up against the glass panel. The first two started yelling at me as soon as they saw me.. "Ehh, ehhh, viens ici ma cherie, je veux que tu vois quelque chose" and as there was no other way to get around I had to walk by them. I was completely ignoring them while listening to my iPod, and as I turned my head away from them while I swept past, I got a full glimpse of the third boys' ass pressed up against the glass on the back of the bus stop. And it was hairy, really hairy. I was going to turn around and comment on the fact that it was so hairy.. something in the category of "maybe it's time to faire une epilation" but I decided it would be easier to just ignore all of their laughter.

Days like that make me want to go back to the 16éme. I'm starting to get really angry I can't even walk out my door without hearing some comment from someone. And they're not all like the little old man who told me my hair was pretty this morning, because that I would be ok with. They're more in the genre of sexually agressive turn-my-cheeks-pink comments. You'd think I'd be used to it after more than a year and a half, but somehow I don't think I ever will.

Au Parc Asterix

2007-06-03T14:47:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I took one step closer to becoming une française. I visited Parc Asterix. The entire day Régis kept asking me "what do you think, what do you think?".. Finally, I had to admit Cedat Point was better because they have about 5X the big rollar coaster ( that I love) and Disneyland Paris was better because I know the stories and like all the kitshy rides. He told me I hurt his heart (briser le coeur).. but that being said, it was an awesome day.

We rode all the rides even the ones that get you wet, and I hate wearing wet clothes. Luckily all the other girls were like me and broke out the rain jackets in the line for the log ride. I also got to talk to all the other "girlfriends" which was fun since all my girls are back in the United States. I even knew something about what one girl, Cécile, is doing her doctorate on! Thank god for that pointless (at the time) class on Books of Hours that I had to take to live in the "special" dorm.

There was a little cultural misunderstanding, however. On our way to the metro Régis says "lets stop at the boulangerie and get some sandwiches". I said, "great, I'm starving, but sandwiches for breakfast?". He just looked at me.. "No, for lunch". Then it was my turn to stare.. "You want to leave a sandwich in your backpack for 4 hours and then you expect me to eat it?. My mom wouldn't even let me eat yogurt that was left out for 1 hour, and it already has bacteria in it! So Régis said "Fine, but you're paying for lunch in the park" and I agreed. Later in the day, we we're the only couple that didn't bring sandwiches and Régis looked at me like.. duh, I told you. Finally someone asked why we hadn't brought our lunch and Régis says.. "Well, Brandi didn't want to". Someone else chimed in at that point about American consumerism, how food isn't allowed in the parks in the US, etc. Then I said "Well, you can't go around leaving food in your sack all day and then eat it, you might get sick". At that point, about three people just stared at me like I had said "I like to eat worms" or something equally crazy. I supposed my mom was a little obsessed with things being chilled and fresh, but she is a nurse.. and I kind of like eating at theme parks. Kind of like how I like to eat airport food. So sue me, it makes me happy. :)

Oh, and I got to ride in car yesterday - I haven't done that for over three weeks!!!

Kyotori

2007-05-31T11:22:00.000-04:00

If you're looking for a good place for lunch near Opéra try Kyotori, it is the best little japanese restaurant I've been to in Paris. They put the good stuff on every table, and by good stuff I mean homemade sweet soy sauce, so addicting. For 6 euros you get a bowl of miso soup with lots of soja and mushrooms, a cabbage salad, a bowl of rice, and 4 brochettes, the chicken balls and chicken strips, plus your choice of either their special cocktail or a café. And people say you can't eat cheap in Paris! They also have really good sushi and Japanese beers. Régis said he thought their sushi was some of the best he'd had in Paris, and he loves sushi.

Next week we're going to do their take out (10% off) and eat in the park right next to their restaurant. Then we're going to check out 1001 lists, a wedding list place to make your registry, which is close by. My friend Christophe and his fiancée Marie-Alice just used them to make their list and they said it worked out really well. I'll post more about that once I get their brochure. They have the most beautiful wedding gowns in their window, too. I wish I had had my camera with me. Maybe they'll be the same next week.

Kyotori
10, rue Chabanais 75002 PARIS
01 42 60 06 99

The French Women must put the fat somewhere..

2007-05-30T10:48:00.000-04:00

So my mom, knowing how much I like books about France, sent me a book recently. After researching on the internet for awhile it seems I am the last to find out about it. It's called French Women Don't Get Fat. Now, I can see how some tips are really helpful, such as walk more, eat smaller portions, buy fresh fruit.. but the whole book seems to be more about self-restaint than being a French woman.

For example, I recently attended a barbeque on a Parisian balcony (beautifully decorated with about 25 different plants - I'd die to have a huge balcony like that) with a mixture of French guys and girls. What did the barbeque consist of? Well, it was merguez on baguettes with french fries, lots of rhum, vodka, absinthe, and about 6 bags of chips. This doesn't really seem much different than it's American counterpart, just substitute hot dogs or hamburgers for the merguez.

The interesting part? The French girls (very slim - normal) ate about half a bag of chips each and way more merguez than I did! They didn't exactley seem to be following the French Women Don't Get Fat rules. It must be good genes, or they must make up for it later. I'll have to keep my eyes open. They did drink much less alcohol and Diet Coke than I did. Maybe that has something to do with it.

The only French woman I can think of who follows those French Women rules was my old mean host mom, who told me I ate too much and would only eat about two spoonfuls of lentils and 1/2 a filet of fish for dinner each night. After lentils at every meal, I don't think I'll ever eat them again.

Sink the Biz - French style

2007-05-25T15:06:00.001-04:00

Well, I think I received my first dissapointment as a French hostess. I guess playing Sink the Biz with a bunch of Heinekein does not appeal to very many French people. Those who found playing the best drinking game where the loser is actually the "winner" (isn't that how all drinking games work?) to be appealing will be arrivng shortly. I personally can't wait to show my Frenchies how to play. It's like the ultimate form of cultural exchange; a bucket, plastic cups from the US, beer splashing everywhere, and a bunch of French people yelling 'Dry ass' (because I told them that is what cul sec actually translates to).

But my point was, a lot of people said no. Régis seems to think this is because his friends either don't know how to drink like real men, or they were busy with better plans. He really knows how to cheer a girl up! I think I'll take the former. Considering Régis explained what girls on bar crawls are like in the US and some of his friends seemed shocked into expressions of disgust mixed with a little bit of envy. Régis likes to tell them all how wild us American women are.

Speaking of American women.. the hot gossip with Régis's friends was that an American girl, how do I put this politely.. manually helped out? manually drove the stick shift?.. of one of his friends in the middle of a club, on a podium. Ahh.. les americaines, keeping alive the dream!

Sondage?

2007-05-24T06:04:00.000-04:00

I have discovered the perfect way to avoid people wanting to survey me in the streets. Somehow I always feel very guilty passing up those poor rebuffed souls who just want a few minutes of your time. In the United States I always feel the need to make up some story, going much further than the normal "I just don't have time" speech. And then I feel even guiltier for lying. But in France, it's much easier and partially true. I just tell the women in front of Monoprix, in the middle of the market street, in my best American-trying-to-speak-French accent "Je ne parle pas beaucoup de francais" with a little sad shrug of the shoulders and that is quite enough to scare them off. It's my new best trick - and it really comes in handy, because somehow those survey people always pick me as one to go after that. Now that is something I wish I could figure out.

The Kindly Jehovah's Witnesses of Paris

2007-05-22T10:20:00.000-04:00

Well, I've arrived in Paris, with the help of some kind French Jehovah's Witnesses. Because of a "suspicious package" at Charles de Gaulle aiport, I didn't get off the plane until an hour after we were supposed to have landed. My friend Matt was there to help me with my suitcases but unfortunatly he could only get me to Chatelet, otherwise he would've been late for an interview.

That's where the Jehovah's Witnesses come in. Matt helped me onto my metro headed for Villejuif and we awkwardly did the French kiss good-bye - I can never manage to get it right with other Americans, I think because it feels too personal with them but with the Frenchies bring it on! Anyways, I got off at my stop and managed to roll out my very large 50 lb. suitcase and smaller 40 lb.-er, along with my blue Longchamp baise-en-ville and my laptop case. As I was going up the escalator a meekly dressed young woman asked me if I was all alone. That should have been my clue - French people never talk to strangers for no good reason!

I explained that my fiancé was at work and my friend could only take me to Chatelet, and the woman offered to help. Normally, I would say no, but she wooed me in with her praise of my grasp on the French language. So I chatted with her and her friend about their recent missionary trip to bring God to the Chinese, as she rolled my suitcase along the street, until out of nowhere she asks "Vous etes croyant?" (Do you believe in God?). Well, I am, so I told her about my church and she thought all the modern elements like our band and the worship music were a shame. A shame that churches need to use those sort of things to attract people to God. Then she asked me if I knew the bible, if I had found the "bonheur" with God, etc. Then we realized we lived right next door and she sais it must have been fate.

She invited me to her church and I asked if it had a specific name. When she told me I thought it sounded kind of familiar even in French, then her friend said in Engish, Jehovah's Witnesses, you know? He went on "We're the same everywhere you go!". And in that moment, I realised they really were.

I think the help I got from them was mostly good karma because I helped two older American ladies sitting near me on the plane when I realized that they thought Charles de Gaulle Etoile was where the aiport landed.

In any case, Régis is worried now that I'm going to be converted and drag him along to church. I promised him I'll only do that if I find a French church that has a band for their worship music, but that's not so likely.

Little 500

2007-04-17T22:17:00.000-04:00

It's too bad Regis can't be here for Little 500. Lance Armstrong called it the greatest college sports weekend, ever. It consists of a Women's Bike Race Friday evening, and the Men's Race on Saturday. My sorority's team is currently 5th out of 30 or so teams, and we hope to take home that trophy Friday night.

What else does Little 500 week consist of ? Lot's of drinking. I wish Regis could be here to see it. He thinks him and his friends go crazy in Paris, but he really has never seen American college students partying. I guess he'll have to wait until Graduation weekend when he'll be here to see me get my diploma! I'm taking him to the French Department Graduation Tea, the big ceremony, and my International Studies Major Brunch.

We'll see if he can really handle an American college weekend on jet lag.

On another note, his team won 1st place out of all of France for the 2007 Euromanager contest. They're flying to Macao on Saturday to participate in the World Finals. I was so hoping he would win because he's worked so hard, but now he has his sites set on winning the World competition, and I don't think I could take it if he gets dissapointed! I guess it'll be a test to see if I can keep him happy even if he doesn't win.

I also learned what a cache-sexe is today. Thrilling.

Still on track..

2007-03-30T08:48:00.000-04:00

I've been missing for awhile! But it's only because I've been working so hard on my capstone project for my International Studies major. Here it is.. http://mypage.iu.edu/~bangrick . Uncompleted of course, but by next Wednesday it should be in at least the rough draft version!

I'm also getting more and more excited about returning to Paris this summer. I'm going to continue to update and expand my website and maybe try to get some advertisers! I also need to take a lot more personal pictures to add to the site, as it is I had to steal some pictures from Le Grand Vefour's website to visualize fine French dining.

This Saturday my mom is coming into town and we're going to go taste-test menu items and wine from the wine bar, Tutto Bene, where we're hosting my graduation/engagement party the day after my graduation. I also can't wait for Regis to get here. I know I just saw him (three weeks ago!!!) but I miss him already. And he'll actually be in my college town during the school year (at least the last day of it) so we'll be able to go out to dinner and the bars with all my friends.

The end of this semester is shaping up to be not too shabby, besides all the hard work. After next week it should be better.. but to get to the end of next week I have to finish my website, take a French essay exam on Proust, and do a 75 minute presentation on 3M. Mon dieu ca va etre dur.

Smashed flowers

2007-03-06T00:16:00.000-05:00

Regis's reaction to my awful dream: Terry, c'est un nom de garcon, non? [Isn't Terry a guy's name?] .. obviously he missed the point.

Me: You sent me some smashed flowers, too.

Regis: [laughs for about 5 minutes] But I would never send you smashed flowers!

Typical.. because what I was most worried about after the dream was getting smashed flowers in the mail.

First nightmare?

2007-03-05T08:50:00.000-05:00

Last night I had an awful dream. It was like I'd been punched in the gut, I may have actually been crying in my sleep. In my dream Regis stopped returning my calls and then my mom found some smashed roses and a card outside our house. The card related how he had met a 36-year old American girl named Terry who was a journalist, and she was ready to move in with him and start on his 4 year plan to change his life (I don't believe he has one at this point). Anyways, the gist was that he was leaving me and never wanted to speak to me again. It felt so real, too.

I think maybe this stemmed from when another French guy broke up with me suddenly during winter break one year, when we were still across the ocean from each other. I really did not see that one coming, even more so than I might possibly ever expect it from Regis! Anyways, I was glad to wake up and realize it was just a dream, but still, I can't wait till Regis is done with classes today so I can make sure he didn't meet a 36 yr old American named Terry the journalist.

Language Lessons

2007-03-03T00:03:00.000-05:00

The days when Regis teaches me new words are always interesting. Today: flairing. His explanation: Haven't you seen the movie Cocktail with Tom Cruise? It's when he throws the glasses in the air, it's called flair...

As far as I knew, flair should bring to mind what you have to wear to work at TGI Friday's and the movie reference Office Space, not Cocktail. The movies French people come up with as references always crack me up.. granted, I'm sure Cocktail was big in it's day. I've only ever seen it playing in the background of Landsharks bar in Broadripple, Indiana. The bartender tried to copy Cruise and luckily my drink didn't land on the floor.

I got another language lesson, this evening. I walked into Noodle Town to pick up my Chicken Mai Fun (mmm.. I love that they give you enough for three meals for only $6.95) and had to wait for a few minutes. I was chatting away to Regis on my mobile in French, and one of the workers came out from behind the counter and said "You speaking English? What language?". I replied.. "It's French actually"... then the killer..

He asked me if I was French. I'll always go back to Noodle Town now. It's my sick guilty pleasure when people mistake me for being French, although it will most likely never be a French person who makes the mistake. Oh well, maybe after I've lived there a few years. Although I think I'll continue to get "Ecosse! Irlandais!" (Scottish, Irish) yelled at me oustide Centre Pompidou. Someone should tell those artists that yelling your nationality doesn't really make you want to get your portrait done. Yelling "Francaise!" at me would probably work better.

Anyways, my language lesson. After I hung up with Regis, I signed my receipt and my friend over at Noodle Town said "Merci!" then "Its thank you!". I mumbled "Merci a toi aussi" but it was so cute I was almost at a loss for words. Almost. ;)

Avocado tartare

2007-02-26T16:13:00.000-05:00

9 days until I'm back living la vie parisienne.. if only for a week, it's better than nothing. I can't wait for our (Me + Regis) cooking lessons at Arômes et Saveurs (http://www.saveurs-aromes.com/). I believe we're going March 15th, my last evening in Paris.

The menu:

Tartare d'avocat au crabe et agrumes
Khoresh d'agneau à l'orange et aux pistaches
Crème de riz, sauce acidulée à l'hibiscus et gingembre

My translation:

Avocado tartare with crab and citrus fruit
Orange Persian lamb stew with pistachios
Creamed rice, sour hisbiscus and ginger sauce

Who knows if those are anywhere near correct, or what exactley they are.. but it should be fun getting taught how to make some delicious recipies and then getting to eat them, too. I hope Regis will wear his new apron I got him for Valentine's day, complete with pink hearts. The website does say, 'Bring your own apron!' I'll take a picture if I can manage to convince him..

Reason #457 to keep French fiance

2007-02-22T00:13:00.000-05:00

One thing that's good about having a french lover is their readiness to correct and aid you in writing a French paper. Or just the warm, gooey feeling of having someone tell you "I barely had to correct anything, out of 7 pages there were only 3 sentences I had trouble completely understanding!" and "Wow, you're French has improved." and "I didn't even know you knew such complex words!"

While I am delighted at the appraisal of my french work, I'm slightly alarmed that my verbal skills must be so poor he couldn't imagine I knew the words I do! In my defense, its hard when you're thinking completely in French to come up with particulary intelligent words all the time, shouldn't it be good enough that I don't need to think about things before I say them in French anymore? I think so.

Overall, I think I have quite the advantage in my 400 level french class. If I ever have a question I can go right to the source. Although Regis's language skills are not exactley Proust, and much more inclined to coding C++, it gets me by. Just another reason to keep a Frencie around for the long run. ;)

The horror...

2007-02-20T21:46:00.000-05:00

I can't wait to be holding a warm nutella crepe from the crepe stand near St-Placide metro, walking up and down rue Rennes, dragging Regis into shops he'd rather die than walk into.

Making pasta and pesto all warm and cozy in Regis's apartment. Renting videos from the shady video machine at Kremlin-Bicetre. Not shopping at Leclerc at Kremlin-Bicetre until they fire the nazi store-clearer woman, who is so rude she should be fired on the spot.

Visiting Regis's mom and getting the "Comme tu es belle" speech everytime. Eating her lovely Gambas a la creme (Giant shrimp with bell peppers sauteed and then drenched in a delicious creme sauce). Making quesadillas for Regis and him making crepes in return.

Only 2 weeks to go and I'll be back where my heart never left. Oh how Paris brings out the cheesiness in me.

If only I didn't have so much due before I get to leave. But at least the majority of it will be over Thursday evening.. except for my Organizational Behavior exam next week. And then I'm home free, doing nothing but reading, cuddling, watching movies, cooking, and spending time with Regis's family. A perfect vacation.

Too much information

2007-02-14T23:19:00.000-05:00

Overheard at Valentine's Day dinner with my parents:

Me: You have to look everyone in the eye when you clink glasses, otherwise it's seven years of bad sex!

Dad: Well, I've already had 27 years of bad sex.

Mom: [shoots the evil eye at my dad] I'll remember that later tonight.

So, in the past few months, ever since my dad blurted out that he and my mom had sex on their first date, I've reached a new level of openness with my parents about ma vie sexuelle. However, I think that was quite an overshare. But at least I've never been in the room next door to my parent while they're loudly getting to it like Regis. I never want to have to bang on the wall to get them to be a little more quiet.

St. Valentin de loin

2007-02-14T13:24:00.000-05:00

The most wonderful day of the year is once again upon us. And by wonderful, I mean usually dissapointing because of the high expectations for a day full of romance.

Last year met the expectations, however. Régis took me to a comdedy show at Café Oscar, a little café-theatre near metro Grands Boulevards. The interior was cozy and dark with sparkly lights all over the ceiling. There were three different comedians, each cracking jokes on love and the opposite sex.

My favorite joke went something like this:

Girl: C'etait bien pour toi?

Guy: Oui, trop trop bien. Et pour toi?

Girl: Oh c'est pas grave..

Keep in mind there were exgerrated hand motions and the falsetto sigh of a girl unsatisfied. It was possibly my favorite joke because it was easy to understand! That night was one of my first breakthroughs with the French language. I actually understand jokes poking fun at the opposite sex in French!! The cocktails they serve were very tasty and fruity, too, although overpriced. But for an original Valentine's Day treat I'd say Régis did a great job last year. Not to mention the homecooked crepe meal afterwards.

This year, because I'm too far away and too broke to pop over to Paris for the weekend, I'm dining out with the folks. We're testing out a French restaurant here in Bloomington, Indiana called le petit café. I've dined there three times before and I've never been dissapointed. The potatoes are almost the best part of the meal. The only problem is that sometimes they just close for no reason. Which makes it that much more French, I believe.

I'm bringing the parents there tonight to decide if it would be a good place to host my graduation/engagement party this May. Régis is coming to the states for my graduation from Indiana University and my mom wants to plan a huge soirée to celebrate our engagement.

I also think she wants to celebrate the fact that I will have graduated from university without getting pregnant. The other day she said "Brandi, can you believe you've avoided ever having to worry about being pregnant while in school?". Well, considering the marvel of modern birth control, and the fact that it's been a part of my life since high school, I think somehow, I can believe it.

Un amour de Brandi

2007-02-13T23:59:00.000-05:00

To begin a new blog about my life as the fiancée of a frenchie, I decided it was only appropriate to be entirely cliché. So I have added my favorite picture of the la tour eiffel.

In January 2006 I met Régis in the mall at les Halles outside le FNAC for our first date. In all my American glory I actually wore my mom's vintage cowboy boots tucked into jeans. Luckily, he overlooked my tendency to hop on the bandwagon of trends where I don't have to actually buy anything new. We went to all the typical 11eme hot spots, a Vietnamese restaurant where two can dine for less than 20 euros and an Egyptian hookah café. It was a particulary warm day for January and since Régis has a tendency to wear only a corduroy blazer even in dead winter, he needed someone to keep him warm when it turned cold in the evening. An american girl wearing a puffy coat was more than happy to help him and we shared our first embrace on rue de Belleville.

Not wanting the evening to end, we decided to meet up later at the Mix for Erasmus party. Haven for all American students studying abroad who have been told "everybody goes there" when in actuality, everyone who wants to end the night drunkenly making out goes there. But that's another story. So at Erasmus party, in all it's sweaty, body-swaying glory, we had our first kiss. All due to his inability to correctly pronounce English words.

The bet: If he could correctly pronounce 'deep-pan pizza' he would get a kiss. After a few (about 40) tries I decided it was close enough.

The next day we met at la tour eiffel where Régis waited over an hour for me, since I can never seem to figure out how long a metro trip actually takes. Isn't it supposed to be 2 minutes per stop? While waiting on his new foreign interest, he snapped this photo and sent it to me as a memoir of our date. He suprised me with ice skating on the eiffel tower. Although I'm a horrible ice skater and we were surrounded by 20 five year olds with their parents watching from the side, yelling "Fait attention, cheri!"... I'm going to have to say it was still somehow magical.

After that point we were inseperable for 3 months until I had to return to down-home Indiana to finish my last year of university. He spent last summer barbequing with my family in the mid-west and traveling with me to visit my brother in Florida (his first trip here ever). I returned to Paris for Christmas and New Year's Eve with his family, and the last day I was there he proposed.

I'll try to keep whining about the long distance to a minimum, but I do plan to chroncile the difficulty of a cross-cultural relationship with a sea in between.

Until, of course, I move back to Paris and become 'une petite femme francaise' [a little french wifey], as one of my french girlfriends suggested I was starting to resemble. I made quesadillas and guacamole (my specialties) for the fiancé's party and continued to make them throughout the night. She slipped over and whispered "Wow, Brandi, tous les amis de Régis doivent etre vraiment jaloux! Tu es la parfaite petite femme francaise." [All Regis friends are probably so jealous, you're the perfect lille french wife!] I'm not quite sure how I feel about that statement.