A lot of France and Germany looks pretty similar to Wisconsin. The hills roll gently among fields of corn and wheat.
We drank some good beer. Some of it came from Germany, but the French also brew some good stuff, such as the the beer from D'Abbaye Affligem. I have not yet found a Barcelona beer I really like, and I've tried about six of them.
Here is me enjoying one of the good beers:
Here is Rowan enjoying one of the good beers. She is mocking my "picture face":
Men in Europe like to wear 3/4-length or capri pants. It just doesn't look right to me. Also, if I was just looking at some of their shoes, I would swear they were wearing women's footwear.Rowan likes castles, and there are enough of them in Europe. She started seeing them everywhere. "Is that a castle?" she would ask. "No, that's a big office building." "Is that a castle?" she would ask. "No, that's a grain factory." Eventually, she joked about it, pointing at random things and asking if they were castles.
The trains have a strange ticket policy. No one checks your ticket when you get on the train. Later, you may get checked by the railroad employees when they come through the train cars, but if you're sneaky enough you can avoid them and ride for free. We did not try this.
We probably could have saved some money if we were less honest. At the crepe place in Nimes, the waitress forgot to put our coffees on the bill, but we told her about it. When buying train tickets for one of the trips, Rowan got a discount because she fits in the under-26 age range, and such people get a discount on some of the train lines. She was honest and told them I was old. Here is us sitting honestly on the train:
One of the things I find interesting about traveling is the difference in the informational icons. The icon for exit in Europe is some stick figure sprinting; apparently the Europeans are always in a hurry. There is a lot of variance in the street crossing symbols. Sometimes, the stop-guy has his hands on his hips; sometimes he just stands there. Sometimes the walk-guy strides purposefully; other times he appears to be taking a leisurely stroll. In the park yesterday, I saw an interesting sign showing a stick figure person picking up the poop of what appeared to be a stick figure Scottish terrier. I was going to take a picture, but Rowan called me an idiot for wanting to do so. This image is pretty close, though. Here is picture of a train sign warning people not to exit the train on the side that drops several feet to the ground, because people need to be warned of such things:
I've written before about how the French love their Arc d'Triomphes. However, I am not really sure what triumphs they are commemorating. Anyway, here is Rowan standing in front of one of the arcs. She had just finished triumphing over a baguette sandwich:
In general, the French weren't rude. But the people in the service industry definitely were. I think I used the term "jackass" about fifteen times when I complained about them to Rowan. In addition to the rude cab driver in Montpellier, we had several other unpleasant interactions. One restaurant we approached was quite crowded. The places are generally seat-yourself, but the only open tables were for six people. We sat down at the end of one, but then a waiter moved us to the other one. Then another waiter separated a two-person table from the one we had just been at and told us to move there. Then the other waiter came back and chided us because now the tables were separated. We got up and left. "Jackasses," I muttered.Overall, though, we enjoyed our time in France. I just like picking on the French for some reason. Probably because they're jackasses, or I am, or someone is, or something.
1 comment:
Fun french facts... thanks! Sounds like you are having quite the trip! :)
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