9:30PM: Ate a DELICIOUS gourmet meal cooked by Max, the French chef, who has been staying with me for the last two weeks along with his brother Sylvain the French Art Expert. Were joined by Max's new American friends, Perry and Karen. Drank wine. "Sante."
12:00AM: Finished dinner; said goodbye to friends.
12:05AM: Started cleaning up.
12:15AM: Accidentally spilled wet compost all over Grandpa's persian rug.
12:16AM: Swore, repeatedly.
12:45AM: Finished cleaning up compost, cleaning up the rug, cleaning out the compost bucket, and dealing with compost smell issues.
12:55AM: Considered hot hot hot heat, and sweaty, sweaty, sweaty self.
12:57AM: Suggested to Max that we go for a swim in Lake Washington.
12:58AM: Decided to go for a swim in Lake Washington.
1:05AM: Pulled through mostly-closed gate at quiet dark park.
1:07AM: Stared out at the perfectly still water and marveled at the complete, permeating quiet.
1:08AM: Dove into the water. Floated on back, and looked at the massive, starry sky.
1:10AM: Thought, "He is big enough. He covers everything."
1:14AM: Swam to dock; climbed on. Breathed big deep breaths of summer star-filled night over cool water.
1:16AM: See lights on park road. Heed Max's warning to jump into water. Hide behind dock posts and watch squad cars.
1:18AM: See bright flashlights saunter down to beach and survey the water. Watch lights find our towels on the beach.
1:19AM: Swear repeatedly.
1:20AM: Call out, "Hello...!" and obediently, reluctantly swim back towards beach.
1:22AM: Have chat with policeman. Explain about Max being French, Greta being sweaty, and Compost having spilled.
1:23AM: Get off with a warning.
1:25AM: Leave park.
1:27AM: Drive back.
1:40AM: Go to bed.
Now THAT is what I call a successful evening.
Showing posts with label sylvain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sylvain. Show all posts
Jul 29, 2009
Jul 22, 2008
Les Hommes
Pronounced: layz ohm
Means: The guys
A return to the traveling tales now. And humor. :) I actually hope these boys DO translate to blogging as well as they did in person... This may turn into a "you had to be there" blog, but we'll try. :)
Besides our blue-eyed Betsy, there were three particular people that had quite a bit to do with shaping our Paris experience. Specifically, these gentlemen:
From the left to the right, we have Mael, Sylvain, and then Max. Oh gosh, I'm laughing just looking at them.
I'll start with Sylvain, since he's where the connections start:
I met Sylvain about four years ago when I was studying abroad in London. He came to stay with my English host family because-- dontcha know?-- he's a world renowned art expert and had to do some research in London. Oh! Sure! He found out that I was planning to come to Paris later after school ended and asked me where I was staying. "Probably just a hostel," I offered, and without hesitating he responded, "Zat ees reediculous! You must stay weeth me and my familee!" ...OKAY! When staying with Sylvain and his family, I was impressed with his exquisite taste for all the finer things, and amused at his blatantly aristocratic leanings. At one point, he told me all about how the French Revolution was really not the best thing to have ever happened, and, in fact, King Louis actually contributed quite a lot in his day. I got the impression that, were Sylvain to have been around during the Revolution, he would have held his head high all the way to the Guillotine. :)
My description of him had Heidi initially a bit intimidated, even though I did my best to convince her of his darling demeanor and generous attitude. Our first meeting with him was enjoyable and very polite-- but I think Heidi might have continued to feel a bit intimidated by Sylvain's expertise and taste had we not thrown Max into the mix...
Max is Sylvain's brother and the most hilarious, lively, entertaining caricature I may have ever met. Within minutes of being in our company, he was poking fun of his big brother, pretending to fall asleep when Sylvain talked about anything, and Sylvain, in turn, threw it right back at him. When Max rhapsodized about food (he's a nutritionist and a CHEF!), Sylvain interrupted with jesting interjections. Like so:
MAX (to Heidi): So, you see-- we have dis cheese... And CHEESE--
SYLVAIN: Is made from MEELK...
MAX: Oui, of course, and it--
SYLVAIN: And it's WHIIITE...
MAX (giving up and playing along): And, you know, it comes from COWS...
SYLVAIN: Or GOATS...
MAX: And you gonna EAT it with BREAD...
SYLVAIN: Which comes from WHEAT...
They both made each other ridiculous, and in turn, made us ridiculous with laughing. And, whereas Sylvain's accent is proper and Parisian, Max has somehow been influenced with some John Wayne-- speaking all of his "i's" as a Southern "a." Like, "We gonna have two thangs."
Mael was the last to arrive-- the cousin of Max and Sylvain. Sylvain had told us girls that Mael was coming to visit as a distraction from some recent heart-break, and requested that we do our best to distract him. We whispered back that we thought we could certainly manage that. Before the end of the weekend, the initially reserved Mael was making face flaps with the rest of us, and taking over as the head of our group to teach us how to cha cha and mambo. He spoke English about the same way I spoke French (read: willingly, but with lots of clutching for words in the air) and we made each other laugh as we bumbled over teasing each other.
But see now... At this point-- this is where I can't even attempt to put them into blogging form. How could I?? It would take too long to describe the stories behind Sylvain attempting the seduction of a duck with a piece of strawberry tart... Or of Max leaning out the second-story window with a towel over his head, waving a scroll and yelling, "You weeel FIIIND your GEEFTS!!!" (You will find your gifts!) ... It would be too difficult to describe WHY exactly I was imitating a Velociraptor on the train platform, or why it took us about 15 different determined attempts to take a picture "Abbey Road" style in Chantilly. I can't do justice to the conversation around Max's decadent dinner table about dogs versus cats, because I could never replicate everyone's different accents and hand motions, and furthermore, I can't explain just how funny it was to be taught the Mambo and the Cha Cha by Mael at 2am on the Paris streets, on the night before Bastille day.
I can't do those stories justice. But I can say: these gentlemen made our last four days in Paris the best of the entire trip. And I can certainly provide the face flap pictures. Those are too good to keep in a drawer.
MAX:
SYLVAIN:
MAEL: (Mael's is especially horrific-- keep in mind that these are handsome boys!! Face flaps just CANNOT be rivaled for uglificating)
BETSY: (Nice touch with the cross eyes, dear!)
MISS HEIDI:
And, last but not least, Myself. In fine flapping form:
Nous aimons les hommes. Et nous allons toujours!
Means: The guys
A return to the traveling tales now. And humor. :) I actually hope these boys DO translate to blogging as well as they did in person... This may turn into a "you had to be there" blog, but we'll try. :)
Besides our blue-eyed Betsy, there were three particular people that had quite a bit to do with shaping our Paris experience. Specifically, these gentlemen:
From the left to the right, we have Mael, Sylvain, and then Max. Oh gosh, I'm laughing just looking at them.
I'll start with Sylvain, since he's where the connections start:
I met Sylvain about four years ago when I was studying abroad in London. He came to stay with my English host family because-- dontcha know?-- he's a world renowned art expert and had to do some research in London. Oh! Sure! He found out that I was planning to come to Paris later after school ended and asked me where I was staying. "Probably just a hostel," I offered, and without hesitating he responded, "Zat ees reediculous! You must stay weeth me and my familee!" ...OKAY! When staying with Sylvain and his family, I was impressed with his exquisite taste for all the finer things, and amused at his blatantly aristocratic leanings. At one point, he told me all about how the French Revolution was really not the best thing to have ever happened, and, in fact, King Louis actually contributed quite a lot in his day. I got the impression that, were Sylvain to have been around during the Revolution, he would have held his head high all the way to the Guillotine. :)
My description of him had Heidi initially a bit intimidated, even though I did my best to convince her of his darling demeanor and generous attitude. Our first meeting with him was enjoyable and very polite-- but I think Heidi might have continued to feel a bit intimidated by Sylvain's expertise and taste had we not thrown Max into the mix...
Max is Sylvain's brother and the most hilarious, lively, entertaining caricature I may have ever met. Within minutes of being in our company, he was poking fun of his big brother, pretending to fall asleep when Sylvain talked about anything, and Sylvain, in turn, threw it right back at him. When Max rhapsodized about food (he's a nutritionist and a CHEF!), Sylvain interrupted with jesting interjections. Like so:
MAX (to Heidi): So, you see-- we have dis cheese... And CHEESE--
SYLVAIN: Is made from MEELK...
MAX: Oui, of course, and it--
SYLVAIN: And it's WHIIITE...
MAX (giving up and playing along): And, you know, it comes from COWS...
SYLVAIN: Or GOATS...
MAX: And you gonna EAT it with BREAD...
SYLVAIN: Which comes from WHEAT...
They both made each other ridiculous, and in turn, made us ridiculous with laughing. And, whereas Sylvain's accent is proper and Parisian, Max has somehow been influenced with some John Wayne-- speaking all of his "i's" as a Southern "a." Like, "We gonna have two thangs."
Mael was the last to arrive-- the cousin of Max and Sylvain. Sylvain had told us girls that Mael was coming to visit as a distraction from some recent heart-break, and requested that we do our best to distract him. We whispered back that we thought we could certainly manage that. Before the end of the weekend, the initially reserved Mael was making face flaps with the rest of us, and taking over as the head of our group to teach us how to cha cha and mambo. He spoke English about the same way I spoke French (read: willingly, but with lots of clutching for words in the air) and we made each other laugh as we bumbled over teasing each other.
But see now... At this point-- this is where I can't even attempt to put them into blogging form. How could I?? It would take too long to describe the stories behind Sylvain attempting the seduction of a duck with a piece of strawberry tart... Or of Max leaning out the second-story window with a towel over his head, waving a scroll and yelling, "You weeel FIIIND your GEEFTS!!!" (You will find your gifts!) ... It would be too difficult to describe WHY exactly I was imitating a Velociraptor on the train platform, or why it took us about 15 different determined attempts to take a picture "Abbey Road" style in Chantilly. I can't do justice to the conversation around Max's decadent dinner table about dogs versus cats, because I could never replicate everyone's different accents and hand motions, and furthermore, I can't explain just how funny it was to be taught the Mambo and the Cha Cha by Mael at 2am on the Paris streets, on the night before Bastille day.
I can't do those stories justice. But I can say: these gentlemen made our last four days in Paris the best of the entire trip. And I can certainly provide the face flap pictures. Those are too good to keep in a drawer.
MAX:
SYLVAIN:
MAEL: (Mael's is especially horrific-- keep in mind that these are handsome boys!! Face flaps just CANNOT be rivaled for uglificating)
BETSY: (Nice touch with the cross eyes, dear!)
MISS HEIDI:
And, last but not least, Myself. In fine flapping form:
Nous aimons les hommes. Et nous allons toujours!
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