Day 2: Vous n'avez pas la priorite :(
French road signs are so polite. 'You [polite form] do not have priority.' Damn Australia just has, 'GIVE WAY'.
29th December
Dear self: do not put chocolate in the same pocket as your iPod and forget about it.
I was able to clean the chocolate off and come out of it with a fully-functioning iPod, but mid-cleanup our host walked in to find me standing in front of the bathroom sink, which was by this stage covered in chocolate bits. While not neat, he is certainly tidy. Seeing the state of his sink must have caused him a minor heart attack. He was too polite to say anything, but I very carefully removed all the chocolate afterwards, and we both pretended that nothing had ever happened (apart from that voice in my head which is still laughing at me).
Today I had to wake up at 7:30 am for our excursion-of-the-day. Considering I slept at 9 the night before, it was looking pretty easy. Little did I know. I was unceremoniously awakened at 4am by my mother waking up (she slept at 7), a time I was not even aware existed from this side of sleep. I delivered the obligatory, "It's four in the morning," in a tone that was adequately piteous but severely lacking in 'omfg, piss off'. Then I tried to go back to sleep, failed, and vegetated in bed until the 7:30 alarm went off.
I have not woken up while it's still dark for months. I wasn't planning on reprising my experiences of the matter, either. I AM ON HOLIDAY. DOES THIS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU, CRUEL UNIVERSE?
Destination-of-the-day: Epernay, capital of Champagne province - whose main industry is, uh, champagne. Jean-Yves wanted us to tour a wine cellar, but our quest was unsuccessful. The closest we got was the headquarters of Moet & Chandon, the only place which was actually open for the season, only to be told that the tour had just finished. On the upside, I got a photo of the statue of Dom Perignon, father and inventor of champagne. God bless all you alcohol-concocting monks.
Altogether Jean-Yves got 13 bottles of champagne from some small producers, a good deal of which I got to sample. What's that? I don't look 18? No, I'm 22. Us Asians always look a lot younger, don't we? No, it's no problem, all is forgiven just as long as you pour me another glass.
En route to Epernay I saw more castles (and greenery) than I have ever seen in the course of my life. We got to see 2 of them up close. The first was an 18th-century one, now modified into a hotel: lovely grounds; lots of fountains and shrubbery mutilated into pretty and unusual shapes; a duck-and-swan inhabited, frozen-solid moat. The latter had a boat in it. A boat. In a moat. Who goes boating in a moat?
The second castle was a huge 12-14th century one only open to the public by appointment. We got as far as the inner gate before we found it locked, whereupon we were greeted by an adorable patchwork-coloured cat who came out from nowhere ("Cat is omnipresent, foolish mortal."), nuzzled my leg ("Make yourself useful and pet me. Now."), then sat in the courtyard looking at us ([disdain][smug]"Trespassing primates."[/disdain][/smug]) before stalking off to do cat things.
I have it on good authority (my own) that you must be clinically insane to drive in France. Who speeds up when turning on an icy road? Using pedestrian crossings is something akin to an extreme sport for the danger factor, and changing lanes is an exercise in reflexes and daring. I remain faintly incredulous at how many times the GPS trilled, "Attention! The speed limit is 130km! PLEASE DO NOT PRESS THE ACCELERATOR, YOU CRAZY FRENCHIE."
But the fact that our car was a carmine-red sportscar raised it from 'scary' to 'awesome'.
29th December
Dear self: do not put chocolate in the same pocket as your iPod and forget about it.
I was able to clean the chocolate off and come out of it with a fully-functioning iPod, but mid-cleanup our host walked in to find me standing in front of the bathroom sink, which was by this stage covered in chocolate bits. While not neat, he is certainly tidy. Seeing the state of his sink must have caused him a minor heart attack. He was too polite to say anything, but I very carefully removed all the chocolate afterwards, and we both pretended that nothing had ever happened (apart from that voice in my head which is still laughing at me).
Today I had to wake up at 7:30 am for our excursion-of-the-day. Considering I slept at 9 the night before, it was looking pretty easy. Little did I know. I was unceremoniously awakened at 4am by my mother waking up (she slept at 7), a time I was not even aware existed from this side of sleep. I delivered the obligatory, "It's four in the morning," in a tone that was adequately piteous but severely lacking in 'omfg, piss off'. Then I tried to go back to sleep, failed, and vegetated in bed until the 7:30 alarm went off.
I have not woken up while it's still dark for months. I wasn't planning on reprising my experiences of the matter, either. I AM ON HOLIDAY. DOES THIS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU, CRUEL UNIVERSE?
Destination-of-the-day: Epernay, capital of Champagne province - whose main industry is, uh, champagne. Jean-Yves wanted us to tour a wine cellar, but our quest was unsuccessful. The closest we got was the headquarters of Moet & Chandon, the only place which was actually open for the season, only to be told that the tour had just finished. On the upside, I got a photo of the statue of Dom Perignon, father and inventor of champagne. God bless all you alcohol-concocting monks.
Altogether Jean-Yves got 13 bottles of champagne from some small producers, a good deal of which I got to sample. What's that? I don't look 18? No, I'm 22. Us Asians always look a lot younger, don't we? No, it's no problem, all is forgiven just as long as you pour me another glass.
En route to Epernay I saw more castles (and greenery) than I have ever seen in the course of my life. We got to see 2 of them up close. The first was an 18th-century one, now modified into a hotel: lovely grounds; lots of fountains and shrubbery mutilated into pretty and unusual shapes; a duck-and-swan inhabited, frozen-solid moat. The latter had a boat in it. A boat. In a moat. Who goes boating in a moat?
The second castle was a huge 12-14th century one only open to the public by appointment. We got as far as the inner gate before we found it locked, whereupon we were greeted by an adorable patchwork-coloured cat who came out from nowhere ("Cat is omnipresent, foolish mortal."), nuzzled my leg ("Make yourself useful and pet me. Now."), then sat in the courtyard looking at us ([disdain][smug]"Trespassing primates."[/disdain][/smug]) before stalking off to do cat things.
I have it on good authority (my own) that you must be clinically insane to drive in France. Who speeds up when turning on an icy road? Using pedestrian crossings is something akin to an extreme sport for the danger factor, and changing lanes is an exercise in reflexes and daring. I remain faintly incredulous at how many times the GPS trilled, "Attention! The speed limit is 130km! PLEASE DO NOT PRESS THE ACCELERATOR, YOU CRAZY FRENCHIE."
But the fact that our car was a carmine-red sportscar raised it from 'scary' to 'awesome'.