Very Important Sausage Warning

2002-06-26

"It's Raining Men" is running through my head today, for whatever reason, and it's making me happy because I'm remembering how Francisco and I heard that song one day while driving through France. We were taking an autoroute (like a freeway but you gotta pay) and we were trying to find a station on which to hear English, so imagine our joy when "It's Raining Men" burst forth from the stereo. Not only were we getting English, we were getting campy English, and what could be better? Francisco was also happy because he was driving 140 km/hr and it was all legal, so for him it was two, two, two joys in one.

But speaking of the autoroutes, they weren't particularly cheap, but you could get places very fast, and the alternatives are much slower N or D roads (it took us about 7 hours to go 200 miles one day on N and D roads--picturesque, oui, but that was too much driving). What I liked about the autoroutes, besides the speed, was the rest stop places. The French do rest stops right. All had convenience stores in which you could buy a genuinely good sandwich [with a sign hanging over the sandwich frig that said "Sandwich Village"] and good coffee or espresso, plus a bunch of other stuff. And one truck stop had a coffee and sandwich bar, all gleamy and modern. Of course there was also the rest area that had rank, decrepit squat toilets that I could Not bring myself to use, but there are exceptions to every rule.

One last thing indirectly pertaining to autoroutes, and a word of caution: The first day we were driving, after we'd rented the car in Paris at Orly airport, we stopped for lunch at an Autogrill, and we foolishly bypassed the good-looking sandwiches in favor of a hot lunch. It was sort of cafeteria style and we were at a group of steam tables looking at the sausages, and we each ordered the Andouille sausages with rice. Okay. You know what andouille sausages are, right? Or at least have heard the word andouille at some point? I need to say, and please keep in mind I cannot stress this enough, THE WORD ANDOUILLE IN FRANCE DOES NOT MEAN THE SAME THING AS IT DOES IN THE US. The sausages we received were not the ones I was eyeing--the sort of reddish, normal-looking sausages. No. What we got can be fairly likened to a female condom stuffed with various foul-smelling organ meats. We think some of it was tripe, but I think there was other stuff in there also. Scary things too sinister to mention. We took the sausages to a table and I started out with my rice, and after a a minute I was thinking, "What's that Smell?" Francisco tried the sausage first. I watched him cut a bite from it and put it in his mouth, and he froze for a second and then chewed gingerly and swallowed. Clearing his throat he said, "Um. I think there are organ meats in here", real careful-like, so as not to alarm me. I cut a bite and put it in my mouth, even though I knew now that the stench I'd been smelling were the sausages. I thought maybe they smelled bad but tasted better--like fish sauce does. I was wrong. I could barely chew and swallow the bite of sausage because I was on the verge of gagging. And I am ashamed to admit it, people, but the way I reacted to this wretched sausage? The grown-up way I handled the disgusting thing that was my lunch? I cried. Can you believe that? A 34 year-old woman crying over a sausage? Well damn it, I was hungry. I had skipped breakfast and it was 2 in the afternoon and I was so hungry, and suddenly my lunch was found to be inedible. There was no way I could've eaten that sausage--the stink of it cannot even be described and I was afraid I was going to throw up. I, who haven't thrown up in almost 13 years. So I cried and then calmed down and we ate the rolls we'd bought and tried to share the creme brulee we'd bought to share except it was lumpy and gross and reminiscent of the sausage, and then we gave up. We went to the little convenience store and bought cookies and left. After and hour or so the queasiness had subsided and cookies were consumed and were found to be good (LU's Little Prince, in case you were wondering).

So much more to tell. But for now let me just say that the Universe did not come through for me re: the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which was vexing but such is the way with the Universe. We did try, at one point in Paris, to buy tickets for their Lyon concert over the interweb but we couldn't figure out how to do it. We'd get to an information page but there was nowhere evident to order tickets. I did, however, see their new By The Way video a dozen times on MTV France and hear the song on the radio once, and I am just biding my time now until July 9 when the new album is released in the US and I can buy it. And let me tell you, I know the boys will be touring at some point to promote the new album, and there isn't much that will keep me from attending the concert. Even if I have to drive to Charlotte. Try and stop me, Universe.

Also, I bought no yarn. It was my full intention to buy yarn but the only yarn I saw, at all, was in Paris and was very expensive and I was sure I would have more chances to buy yarn. Didn't happen. Saw a few sheep--freshly-shorn sheep even--but no yarn. Possibly this is because I did not finish the scarf I was making to use up the yarn I had and the Universe saw that and decided to deny me. Whatever. I will finish the scarf and mail it (watch for it, Shereen) and then go yarn shopping.

We bought very little. Bought some prints at the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and one at the Orsay Museum in Paris. Bought some fabulous soup in Provence. Bought small gifts for my parents and Boy. Bought me a swimsuit, and that's a whole story in itself but I will condense it and say little English was spoken in the shop and little French spoken by us, so you know how painful it is to buy a swimsuit anyway? Multiply that by at least 4.7. Oh, and bought some Dutch gin, but that's it. Our bags were small and we didn't have room for a lot of stuff, and we just decided to keep the purchasing to a minimum. I do not regret it.

Still floundering under a pile of stuff at work. This is all for now. Over.

Love,

E |

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