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Belgium/France

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Hokay. I left much to the imagination in my Amsterdam blog, but I figure it was best left that way. Holland is my favorite country I've visted so far. The night after the pub crawl, we drove into the countryside out to the coast. It was absolutely beautiful, I would love to live there. The Dutch people are very interesting, I love their sense of humor. Everything is simplified and people are expected to have at least half of a brain. There is large Neoclassical building with the words, "Homo Sapiens Non Urinat In Ventum". For those of you who are not familiar with Latin, allow me to translate, "Men should not pee into the wind." Beautiful.
There are no barricades up in front of the tramways, no electric fences around the railroad tracks. People don't even wear helmets when cycling around the city in rush hour. You're just expected to know what's going on. A few people on tour didn't like the people, they thought they were harsh and mean. I thought they were hilarious. Honestly, we are a group of 50 college aged Americans. I would laugh at me too. At one point we were herded into an alley way, and a man from a porch above yells down, "Baaaaaaaa. Baaaaaaa." HAHAHAHAH. I laughed so hard. People around me were so offended. I looked up and winked at him and he laughed good-heartedly. I feel there is only one way to really explain why I love the Dutch. When were took a bike tour, our guide taught us some Dutch swear words. Klootzac is means ball sack, and is the equivalent of calling someone a Douch Bag. My favorite was kankerhoer, which appparently is one of the worst things you can say to a person. The translation? Cancer Whore. I love Holland.

All of my days are blended together. I couldn't even tell you which day of the week it is right now. But I'm in Paris. We drove through Belgium and stopped for lunch in Brussels. I wish I could've spent more time there. The only way I can describe it is 'romantic'. Romantic as in I wouldn't be surprised to see a wizard riding a horse buggy through the cobblestone alley ways.
Then on to France. Paris isn't my favorite. The people are fine. No one has been outrightedly rude, but then again no one has been very nice either. The Eiffel Tower was a bore. And the metro is a pain in my frackin ass. The food is amazing though. Last night we went out to a nice dinner as a tour group. It was a three course meal with unlimited wine or beer. Red wine is my favorite. But Rosea, which has a nice pink hue was what we switched too about half way through the evening. I distinctly remember telling the waiter we wanted the 'pink wine'. Yea. It was one of those nights. Afterwards about half the group went out to a pub and had a smashing time. They really aren't stingy with their alcohol here. Strongest rum and coke I've ever had.

Today we walked around the Louvre. That place is a serious maze. I felt like I was competing in the triwizard tournament. I failed. I did get to ask for directions in French though. For those of you that don't know, I'm pretty good at picking up on languages. I remember phrases and can imitate accents fairly well. Dutch was easy. Spanish will be a breeze, I can actually converse halfway decently en Espanol. French though, is a completely different matter. I am helpless. I'm getting better, but really, it's a joke. I can manage to ask where the toilet is, and I asked a woman today where the metro was. Most people chuckle or laugh and then answer you in English. Which is fine, usually if you at least make an effort they won't be complete klootzacs. The highlight of my day was asking a securityguard in French how to get to the pyramid in the museum. Well, apparently he was delusional, because he thought my French was good enough to answer me in French. Ruh roh. I'm willing to make a bet that he was high or deranged.

Tonight will be farely quiet. I've made a rule for myself that I can only be properly smashed once in each city. Unlimited wine was my proper smashing, so I'll be staying in tonight and eating chocolate I bought in Brussels. One of these days in the near future we head to Switzerland.

Oh. I just remembered. I know why I don't like France. So in each European country so far, when you ride the lift, next to the floor numbers they have a door open button. In America, there is also a door close button. Not in Europe. They are a gentle people, and they don't believe in closing doors in your face. France proved me wrong. I got on the lift this morning and saw the dreaded door close button. I was sorely dissapointed.

Posted by CStassel 10:40 Archived in France

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