I had a pounding headache; my brain felt like it might explode from trying to learn French. Usually after three weeks of being in another country, Geoff and I would head home where we could order coffee in English, understand cashiers at convenience stores and successfully listen in on other people's conversations. Of course, the fact that we still had nearly three months left in Paris thrilled us. Unfortunately, my aching head didn't agree. It was fatigued from constantly thinking through every sentence.
Then again, my headache could have been related to the fact that BuyIndies.com had ceased to take orders. For months our credit card processor software company had threatened to change servers but they never gave us an exact date. I had asked them to give me two weeks notice. Instead they gave us less than 24 hours. So Geoff had worked furiously all night, in an effort to get it working again. And it was awful to be in Paris and stuck on the computer.
The next morning, we decided to take a break for something to eat. I picked a place outside our immediate neighborhood for a change of scenery. It was a gorgeous, clear and crisp day in Paris. We crossed Ile Saint Louis to the Right Bank to Mariage Frères, which I had found in our Paris Michelin Guide. The historic tea house served a proper Saturday French brunch - moist scrambled eggs, melt-in-your-mouth brioche toast, smoked salmon with salad, and shrimp with the heads still on. We also had a choice of tea from several hundred kinds on a special menu. And of course, dessert couldn't be forgotten. The waiter had come over and rattled off some French to us, which incredibly I understood to mean that we had to go up to the display to choose our desserts. I picked what looked like an Entenmanns coffee cake. It turned out to be a tart apple cake topped with cinnamon sugar crumbles. Even better.
After brunch, we took a quick walk through a nearby department store which was packed with people. There was a sale but the prices weren't that good. I don't think I've ever seen a department store so crowded, except maybe the 34th Street Macy's around Christmas. We went to look at some knives since Geoff had wanted some better ones for the kitchen. We found it amusing that hundreds of knives were just sitting out in the open without any packaging whatsoever. As Geoff pointed out, there was a row of the adult reachable knives and then the probably sharper knee-level row of loose knives reachable by any interested three-year old. The choices overwhelmed us so we decided against buying anything.
We also looked at sheets. Our bed was really two twins put together and although Geoff had figured out how to connect the metal bracket underneath, the sheets were still separated. We thought if we could buy a king sheet set, it would feel more connected. Unfortunately there was no such thing as "king," nor twin, full or queen. Instead each sheet listed measurements in centimeters. Hmm, I had never thought to measure the bed. I also didn't know the words for fitted sheet, flat sheet, duvet cover, etc. We made some attempt to speak to a French saleswoman and successfully asked about the return policy which she explained. Remarkably I understood - they could be brought back unopened only for a refund or exchange. Just in case, we figured we should measure at home first.
After that, we decided to pick up some bread and cheese so we could just have a snack at home later without having to go out again. We headed back to the apartment, back to the computer where Geoff continued to wrestle with the site. In exchange, I offered to work on his blog. My theory was that he would feel more inspired to work on it if it looked more professional. So we got some Movable Type blog software and I started working on it.
Whenever we were working at home, we listened to the radio - usually the station called Voltage. Most radio stations have a rotation of songs they play, but this station in particular revealed itself to be on a one-hour time loop. Still, we kept listening. I think maybe they had subliminal messages. Actually, we did learn that they had several catchy songs that were actually advertisements for the station so they weren't really too subtle. Some of my favorite songs in rotation where "Wake Me Up When September Comes" and "Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Were Hot Like Me," but there were also a bunch of mysterious French songs I liked.
The next day, the server still wasn't back up. It seemed our whole weekend would get sucked up by the BuyIndies.com abyss. Naturally, my headache persisted. Not wanting the whole weekend to be a bust we decided to go to the Rue Monge outdoor food market and pick up some things for dinner. With my head pounding, I didn't feel like speaking French so Geoff did most of the talking while I took some pictures. I did stop to pick up a small brioche loaf, though. I asked in French if a brioche was masculine or feminine. The woman working there replied, feminine. "D'accord. Une brioche," I said. She asked what language I spoke and I said English. She wanted to know how we said it in English and she thought it was funny that it was still just "brioche." Of course, ours was not a feminine brioche.
Geoff picked up a rack of lamb and some potatoes, which of course he turned into a delicious feast for us. I had found some fresh apricots and tomatoes which we just ate raw. The tomatoes were so sweet that I finally understood how they could be considered a fruit.
Fortunately in the next 24 hours, Geoff had worked out some kluge that got the server back up running and accepting orders. And pretty much simultaneously the pounding on my head completely subsided. Hmm, maybe it wasn't the French after all.
Then again, my headache could have been related to the fact that BuyIndies.com had ceased to take orders. For months our credit card processor software company had threatened to change servers but they never gave us an exact date. I had asked them to give me two weeks notice. Instead they gave us less than 24 hours. So Geoff had worked furiously all night, in an effort to get it working again. And it was awful to be in Paris and stuck on the computer.
The next morning, we decided to take a break for something to eat. I picked a place outside our immediate neighborhood for a change of scenery. It was a gorgeous, clear and crisp day in Paris. We crossed Ile Saint Louis to the Right Bank to Mariage Frères, which I had found in our Paris Michelin Guide. The historic tea house served a proper Saturday French brunch - moist scrambled eggs, melt-in-your-mouth brioche toast, smoked salmon with salad, and shrimp with the heads still on. We also had a choice of tea from several hundred kinds on a special menu. And of course, dessert couldn't be forgotten. The waiter had come over and rattled off some French to us, which incredibly I understood to mean that we had to go up to the display to choose our desserts. I picked what looked like an Entenmanns coffee cake. It turned out to be a tart apple cake topped with cinnamon sugar crumbles. Even better.
After brunch, we took a quick walk through a nearby department store which was packed with people. There was a sale but the prices weren't that good. I don't think I've ever seen a department store so crowded, except maybe the 34th Street Macy's around Christmas. We went to look at some knives since Geoff had wanted some better ones for the kitchen. We found it amusing that hundreds of knives were just sitting out in the open without any packaging whatsoever. As Geoff pointed out, there was a row of the adult reachable knives and then the probably sharper knee-level row of loose knives reachable by any interested three-year old. The choices overwhelmed us so we decided against buying anything.
We also looked at sheets. Our bed was really two twins put together and although Geoff had figured out how to connect the metal bracket underneath, the sheets were still separated. We thought if we could buy a king sheet set, it would feel more connected. Unfortunately there was no such thing as "king," nor twin, full or queen. Instead each sheet listed measurements in centimeters. Hmm, I had never thought to measure the bed. I also didn't know the words for fitted sheet, flat sheet, duvet cover, etc. We made some attempt to speak to a French saleswoman and successfully asked about the return policy which she explained. Remarkably I understood - they could be brought back unopened only for a refund or exchange. Just in case, we figured we should measure at home first.
After that, we decided to pick up some bread and cheese so we could just have a snack at home later without having to go out again. We headed back to the apartment, back to the computer where Geoff continued to wrestle with the site. In exchange, I offered to work on his blog. My theory was that he would feel more inspired to work on it if it looked more professional. So we got some Movable Type blog software and I started working on it.
Whenever we were working at home, we listened to the radio - usually the station called Voltage. Most radio stations have a rotation of songs they play, but this station in particular revealed itself to be on a one-hour time loop. Still, we kept listening. I think maybe they had subliminal messages. Actually, we did learn that they had several catchy songs that were actually advertisements for the station so they weren't really too subtle. Some of my favorite songs in rotation where "Wake Me Up When September Comes" and "Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Were Hot Like Me," but there were also a bunch of mysterious French songs I liked.
The next day, the server still wasn't back up. It seemed our whole weekend would get sucked up by the BuyIndies.com abyss. Naturally, my headache persisted. Not wanting the whole weekend to be a bust we decided to go to the Rue Monge outdoor food market and pick up some things for dinner. With my head pounding, I didn't feel like speaking French so Geoff did most of the talking while I took some pictures. I did stop to pick up a small brioche loaf, though. I asked in French if a brioche was masculine or feminine. The woman working there replied, feminine. "D'accord. Une brioche," I said. She asked what language I spoke and I said English. She wanted to know how we said it in English and she thought it was funny that it was still just "brioche." Of course, ours was not a feminine brioche.
Geoff picked up a rack of lamb and some potatoes, which of course he turned into a delicious feast for us. I had found some fresh apricots and tomatoes which we just ate raw. The tomatoes were so sweet that I finally understood how they could be considered a fruit.
Fortunately in the next 24 hours, Geoff had worked out some kluge that got the server back up running and accepting orders. And pretty much simultaneously the pounding on my head completely subsided. Hmm, maybe it wasn't the French after all.
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