A French Fourth

Bon Juillet quatre!

So how does an American spend July 4th in France?

Perhaps the most definitively patriotic July 4ths of my life, I spent the day reflecting on the beaches of Normandy. Since the invasion was so vast across the coast, we stuck to only one portion – Omaha beach – for our travels today.

I’m going to type as much as I can for tonight, and leave the rest for tomorrow.

Blog bored? My long time friend Saloni started a blog reviewing local restaurants in Austin. She’s not only a good writer but a very talented photographer. Bon appetite.

http://saloniii.blogspot.com/


Spontaneous Castle Venture

The morning after Heidelberg and the music festival I decided I’d let myself sleep in a little before deciding what I wanted to do.

Minor detail: I’m too programmed to sleep in anymore.

So I woke up at a decent time, and was like “now what?” One thing I dearly miss about the US is the freedom to do things – anything – on Sunday. Nothing is open. As a lifetime only child, I’m perfectly adept to entertaining myself all day, but there’s only so much one can handle of my dorm room.

Jenny helped me find all the details for an Alsatian castle in the mountains near Sélestat, a small town halfway between Strasbourg and Colmar (see earlier day trip). I decided to ride my bike to the train station. If I could catch a train that would make the 1:30 shuttle connection I’d go; otherwise I decided I’d spend the day eating gelato or something.

The train station was much to do. I thought about 5 times that it wasn’t going to happen. Since my American credit card doesn’t have a microchip in it the card won’t work on the automated ticket machines….then there was a problem knowing which train…then there was a line…then I somehow ended up on a train bound for the sleepy town of Sélestat.

Once there I found where the shuttle was supposed to come, and while I was waiting two other girls (speaking accented English) walked up. They asked to see if this was the right place, I said I hoped so, then we started talking.
Turns out they both are working for the European Conciliate in Strasbourg. One was from Iceland, the other was from Slovenia. I immediately erupted “I’m part Slovenian and went there for a few days last summer and loved it!”

Relief and gratitude poured over her face and she said she was so happy to hear that because nobody she ever talks to has been there. She said they’re working really hard on their tourism industry and she’s always trying to convince people how nice it was. I told her we loved it and then we all just talked about random things until the bus showed up.

Haut Koenigsbourg was a neat castle that had been heavily restored from ruins around 1900. It was large and foreboding, but most of the history had been re-written during what is now a historical, historical renovation. When you’ve been to places such as the Heidelberg castle (the day before) and Neuschwanstein, this doesn’t compare.

What held its own were the views. It looked out over the Alsatian valleys and thus French countryside, was perched on the nearby mountains, and had views of the beginning of the Alps and German Black Forest.

Strasbourg may be a storybook city, but it’s nice to escape the flat congestion of the city.

http://www.haut-koenigsbourg.fr/en/chateau

I poked around the castle for a few hours, walked around, then caught the bus back to down to earth and back to Strasbourg. Made for a lovely way to spend a Sunday.

The bus up to the castle also stopped at a “stork resort” kind of sanctuary, and then no kidding a monkey park where they run around and come right up to you. I skipped Montagne des Singes (Monkey Mountain) without hesitation. Threw up in my mouth a little as we passed.


Who talked Elaine into playing French football?!?!?!?!?

This is one of those activities that happened in France and will stay in France.

Around the time of the world cup, it’s a Louis Pasteur tradition to host a huge soccer tournament between the labs.

This American powderpuff’s never played a game of football (soccer) in her life. I’m pretty sure the last time I kicked a ball was…..oh soccer ball….was in elementary school PE. In high school I took aerobics and Pilates only sometimes involves a balance ball -- which is a lot more fun.

I insisted I shouldn’t play. They insisted Dr. Sessler did during his time in Strasbourg years ago.

I was suckered.

Wednesday morning Vivien picked me and Josephine up by the lab and drove us to the south of Strasbourg for the match. For the second time all summer, I got to wear Capri pants. Exciting, I know.

By the way, we need to make sure I stop buying my pants baggy. Every time I think I bought pants that aren’t going to look baggy, they end up stretching and looking big. Please do not alert the fashion police, because I’m looking frumpy. Fly Boy’s in Texas, so I guess this isn’t going to really matter for another month.

So we showed up and Team Weiss’ uniform mockingly “supported” the new French legislation. As of July 1, it is now mandatory to keep a safety vest in your car at all times and wear it if you need to change a tire at the side of the road, etc. Probably a great safety law, but we showed our support by wearing it as a cheap uniform on the field. I got to keep it, so I’m going to be super cool when I get back to the states.

I kicked a ball around, miss-kicked the ball a little, got hit in the back then the head by a mischievous Vivien, and then when we had the match I lucked out and got to stand on the sidelines.

This was good considering it was a full out contact sport. My personal success was just stepping on the field.
Picture of Merquez from google....

It was another chemistry style BBQ with Merquez (Moroccan) sausage in baguettes served with beer.

The matches before lunch were intense and rather “serious.” After lunch (and consequently beer) there were a few more slips and surprisingly everyone played better. That’s France for you. By the end of the afternoon, a rather large and bubbly guy named Tom Tom ended up on the field yelling profanities at his friend’s opposing team. Next thing you know his pants are down at the goal and he’s displaying a full moon. Then he tried to get on the other side of the fence and fell flat on his back.

The PhDs and grad students just stood around and laughed shaking their heads. Only in France.


McDough/Le M:: How do you say “overpriced American shit?”

In between matches, we were sitting around under a tree to escape the heat. It ended up raining later that day, which is typical France for you. Burning heat, then pouring rain five minutes later.

Anyway, we were sitting around in the shade. Several were playing cards and I was reading over some French.

Then Vivian was like “Elaine, do you want to go to mmm-flah blah blah?”

Me: What?

French Co-workers: MMMflahdooo. [inaudible]

This went on a few more minutes before I realized they were attempting to say “McDonalds.”

Me: OHHHHH! MAC-DONalds!

They all laughed at my accent. I may be American, but apparently I can’t say the name. :)

So I said I’d go.

Vivian making faces at Le M.

This is another picture of the McDonalds “café” in Heidelberg.


I’ve decided European McDonalds are simply mules in race horse harnesses. They can try to serve pastries, they can call themselves a café, they can put New York posters all over their “dining room” to make themselves appear chic, they can exploit the fact they’re the only fast food (or take away) company in most neighborhoods. Do what they like in Europe they’re still the sleazy golden arches.

I’m fascinated.

And the French act like they hate it, but who went on the prompting of a bunch of French chemists? I was the only one who didn’t get anything. Obviously it's an American fetish.....or is it?

Real Time

Fireworks haven’t even started in the US, but my 4th is over. Dad’s asleep next to me, and I’m afraid my keyboard clanking will disturb him. I also have about another 30 minutes of picture loading/placing to endure, so stay tuned…