it just tastes like warm, sweet water.

Dear blog,

CHECK THIS. It's eight o'clock in the morning, you pop some advil for your hangover, you left the window open all night so you're fucking freezing, you're worried that an Australian may have stolen your passport, cash, and hair gel (just kidding, we don't wear hair gel. ew), you have a bruise beneath the knuckle of your index finger, but you disregard this, eat a croissant, put on your beerboots, and follow the yellow brick road... to the second day of Oktoberfest.

Oktoberfest is the happiest place on earth. We made friends like this,











We met hotties like this,










We ate nutritious foods like this,










Saw great cultural sights like this,















Clearly, did this:











Some of us did this,

And in the end, all of us felt like this.

The second morning, we tried to get into Hofbrau house, which is one of the most popular halls at Oktoberfest, and after an hour of some serious mosh-pitting (shoutout: Shireen's inner punk), near asphyxiation, and crafty crowd maneuvering, we found ourselves pressed against the closed doors, staring longingly at the happy people inside... only to get shooed away by a mean German man.

But this did not get us down. Right around the corner, there was a giant, wonderful beer garden - because here, beer grows on trees, sprouts out of the ground, and flows from reservoirs - and there we settled down with a pretzel and some Italians. This was pretty much our pattern for the rest of the weekend, give or take a nationality. Let's note some important cultural discoveries:

1. Lederhosen. After a weekend in Munich, we are no longer be confused by the sight of suede leather pants. In fact, we marvel at why all men don't wear them, since they have a very convenient penis flap and flatter the calves very nicely.

2. Meat. Shireen tried to order a vegetarian option at a food stand, to which the response was: "So you want cow, or baby cow?"

3. After a couple hours at Oktoberfest, the amusement park rides always seem like a good idea. They are not.

4. Keep your friends close and your frenemies closer. Actually this has nothing to do with Oktoberfest but Shireen likes the way it sounds and Marina just watched Gossip Girl so it seems okay.

5. If you actually want to discover German culture, don't spend all of your time at Oktoberfest.

When we got back, Alie got violently sick for a day and threw up on the curb, and Shireen stepped in shit. Poetic justice? Marina is next.

Sweet dreams of beer maidens and weinerschnitzel and see you back in Paris,

at least we can outrun her!

Dear blog,

Sorry for the hiatus. We've done a lot in this last week, but we've been of thinking of you the whole time.

As we type, Alie is watching the presidential debates in a dark room with one candle lit... a metaphor for what's happening in our country? Meanwhile, Jane keeps coming in the room saying overly witty things to try to get a shout out in the blog (which worked, I guess). Sean is sitting in the dark looking for a seashell. Black mold is growing in three separate locations in our apartment and slowly shortening our life span, so please, excuse us if this blog post isn't especially cohesive.

After a long night of no sleep, fourteen pots of coffee, two (okay... three) boxes of Mikados, and some occasional youtube clips (Bonquiqui, of course), we managed to make it to the last day of our two-week intensive French course. We start our real classes next week, and Marina is taking a class called "Literature of Extreme Solitude"... typical.

We threw a little housewarming party last weekend, and to prepare for the shindig, we bought 

a bunch of candles and a red tablecloth (to replace the odd, African-themed one we had before) for some decor. Before the guests arrived, the four of us were sitting around our lovely new red tablecloth, in dim candle light, drinking wine, in evening attire - and then we all realized that we were, in fact, sitting around a red tablecloth, in dim candle light, drinking wine, in evening attire. Thank god the guests arrived soon after this, because shit was about to get awkward.

The party was fun but we learned a few valuable lessons. 1. Make sure you have enough ashtrays. If not, people will be a little too resourceful, and you might wake up with a cigarette butt in your ear. 2. If you own a trundle, do not invite everyone at the party to sleep in it, because you might end up with a little too much company. 3. French people come in dozens. Use sparingly. 

So far, this has been a weekend of picnicking. To celebrate the end of classes, we had a little impromptu picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower (just a day in the life). We met a woman who told us about a crazy man she met from Texas (holla) who convinced her that bananas are proof of God. Think about that for a while. Today, we had picnic part deux at Jardin du Luxembourg. No particularly funny anecdotes, but I guess it was nice.

We realize that this blog has been mainly weird, embarrassing details of our lives, all of which could have happened just as easily in New York. But now that we have a lot less class time, we plan to do a lot more French things with French people in France (except next weekend when we go to Oktoberfest - whoo Cabo '08!) and then write about them.. in French?

ttfn, 

le parisparis!

Dear blog,

Are you there blog? It's us, Margaret. Please bear with us because we are realizing at this very moment that we are having extreme creative differences in our yet to-be-discovered blogging styles. Shireen describes her writing style as "playful, like a dolphin" and Marina... doesn't.

We are finally free from the MIJE (a really nice/cheap hostel in the 4th that we almost feel guilty complaining about except for that the food is so terrible you don't even feel human after consuming a meal) and have upgraded to our fabulously crusty apartment.It is located in the 1st in the heart of Paris and has a modest 4 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, a livingroom, a dining room with a mural with a donkey and a parrot, a kitchen chock full of up-to-date appliances and flatware (complete with the food that was last eaten on them), a tea/smoke/sit/useless? room, and last but not least, a breakfast nook (noose* if you will, Alie). So, clearly we have a lot of space, a lot of dust, and a lot of chairs that don't match. Oh, and no big deal, but the Louvre is our neighbor and the Tuleries are our backyard, not to brag or anything...

Also, a note on our landlady: Mme de Polignac. Mme de Polignac is a princess, legit, and we found a google entry that suggests that she may have been born in 1880. This is very possible. She prefers being paid in cash and came to pick up the rent with a bodyguard.


After many consecutive hours of gawking at our apartment, we finally managed to leave and explore the many wonders of Paris... starting with the sale aisle at Monoprix. We managed to buy three pounds of pasta for one euro! Raspberry tarts for two euros! Questionably large eggs for 50 centimes!

Class started this morning and our phonetics teacher (yes, we were placed in the same class. So much for branching out.) is an adorable man who wears brown sock with yellow stars. Despite making us repeat his name six hundred times, he does oddly good impressions of Americans speaking French and vice versa. We will probs learn a lot. z..z.z..z..z.z.z..z.z.

In between, other colorful things have happened. We will keep you up to date on our fabulous french lives (if our fabulous french lives allow it). Also, we just had the realization that we are talking to our blog. This is weird so we're going to bed.

- Marina and Shireen

*Shireen is ESL and originally spelled this "neuce."
**Suck a D Marina

P.S. We love Paris.