Today I woke up did the normal, i.e. kids, feeding and what not. Then I went to class. The class never seemed to end. The excitement of the first week has worn off, and it is yet again school, but one I feel obligated to go to because I am paying. After class, I went with a classmate to FNAC to help her buy her books that we need for the class. She is a super nice Scottish girl.
After all that, I decided to try a restaurant a friend recommended. It was called Le petit viller, or something like that. There was a base menu, entre, plat and desert for 17 euro. When ordering, the woman taking my order spoke no English and the menu was very French. I can usually get around and recognize foods, but in this case I couldn't. I ordered, and the woman asked me if I was sure. I said yes. I didn't order tartar, I could recognize that, and I thought what could be worst than tartar? As soon as she walked away, asking me if I was sure I wanted to order what I ordered, I began to get worried. I wondered if I had just ordered liver or something gross like that. I got the caesar salad as an appetizer, and it was amazing. That is how all caesar salads should be. But then it was time for the plat. As she walked it out all of the people in the restaurant looked at me, or at least I thought they did. On my plate, was a cube of what I assumed was some meat covered in a sauce and fries. I had promised myself I would at least take 1 bite of the mystery meat. As soon as I cut into it, the whole thing seemed to fall apart, and the aroma was nauseating. What did I get myself into? It almost looked like a cube of bacon, so I bravely took a bite. If the whole restaurant hadn't been staring, I would have spit it out. What ever it was, I did not like it. I swallowed and forced myself into the mindset that when in France I should try everything. When am I ever going to be living her again? I decided to hold my breath and poke around this blog with my fork. Suddenly I recognized what I had just put into my body. I had ordered some animals intestines. OMG. I was so done at that point. I ate the fries, leaving a wall of the ones closest to the poo tubes. Then forked around a little more at the intestines in order to not embarrass myself completely with the waitress. Then stealthily covered my plate in napkins. What an experience.
When in France do not order intestines. I do not recall the name of the plate I ordered but A. A. A. A. A. followed the name.
I went from the restaurant to a park bench to read a book, then I got the boys. They were retched as usual. On the way home I maned up and got Elsa with the boys. Yikes, never again. When all 4 of us got home, Josephine was not here. Very strange. I called Sandrine to ask if she knew where Josephine had gone, and so she called Josephine to ask. For the first time, Josephine went to get Elsa because I was getting the boys. She has done that only once before, so how was I to know? About 20 minutes later, she stormed in telling me that next time I should tell her if I am going to get Elsa. I would not ever get a kid I was not suppose to, it is not my style. So I got yelled at, talked down and eyes rolled to for 5 minutes by the cook. How nice.
Thats about all. Steer clear of intestines.
XOXO,
Mandy
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