Saturday, March 20, 2004

France For Dummies The weather has turned crappy.  Lots of wind and rain.  We'd planned on taking a train to Frankfurt this morning, but the thought of walking around in downtown Frankfurt, a place neither Marcela or I had ever visited in the nastiness Mother Nature has brewed up, just wasn't appealing. So we went to Plan B.  What was Plan B, you ask?  The invasion of France. For those who don't know, I only live about 30 minutes or so from France.  But I've only crossed it a few times and really don't know my way around over there.  The folks at work, though, had been raving about a market just across the border that they figured we'd like to check out.  So with some very vague directions ("It's in Merlebach"), Marcela and I set out for the land of the Frenchies. We promptly got lost.  But it wasn't without some reward.  We managed to find a titty bar. Luckily Marcela had spotted the market, called Cora, and were soon within our first French megamarket. The place is a lot like a Super Wal-Mart, just filled with French stuff.  You'd figure they'd have a lot of cheese, and they did.  I'd also heard about their fish market, and sure enough there were plenty of fragrant fish.  Both of those pictures just show a small portion.  It was impossible to capture the whole selection in one shot. Oh, and they also have a huge wine selection at Cora, though we didn't snap a picture because when we were in that area, some toddler managed to knock over a box of wine which started bleeding all over the floor.  Dad was pissed, and neither Marcela nor I wanted to watch him go nuclear on the kiddo.  Sacre bleu! But there were other things there I didn't expect.  Like a large selection of the "...for Dummies" books.  Or as they're titled, "Pour les Nuls".  Also didn't expect to see the frog on the Sugar Smacks box Frenchiefied.  Why the hell did they put a French flag on his face?  Too afraid he looked like an American frog? The best was the Pepito chocolate cookies.  In fact they had a whole range of Pepito products.  If you ever want me to send you some Pepito, just let me know. So after awhile we'd worked up a powerful hunger, and being the type who knows how to show a girl a good time, I took Marcela to McDonald's.  Why?  Because I had to have french fries in France.  I just had to. After Marcela ordered everything (those college French classes finally paying off), I was able to sit down with our haul. The fries looked just like McDonald's fries from anywhere else.  But they didn't come with just ketchup.  They also came with Pommes Frites Sauce.  Never being one to refuse something new, I got ready to try their special fries sauce.  Well, it was special all right.  Looked just like some guy got a little excited with my fries.  Luckily it didn't taste like what it looked like.  It actually wasn't bad at all. Then I remembered the part of Pulp Fiction where Travolta asks his partner if he knows what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris.  A Royale with Cheese, of course.  And the movie was pretty much right.  Props to Tarantino. So there you have it.  Our two hour invasion of eastern France.  Sure some might say it was superfical, or perhaps even a little juvenile, but damn it -- it just felt right. 6:48:28 PM     |

© Copyright 2005 Alex L. Mauldin.