a girl in Paris

20th June 2010

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Where’s the hot guys?!

Last night, I met up with Katy, Karine, this other girl Zala (I hope I’ve spelled it right) and two of her friends for drinks. It didn’t end up being one of those amazing nights, but it was fun in the sense that I was in good company, and wandering around the Quartier Latin trying to find a bar beats staying at home in bed.

We went to some “Irish” pub… it looked EXACTLY like all the fake Irish pubs in Boston. The girls took me here since I had talked earlier about how I really love beer and was sorely disappointed with the beer selection and prices here. I mean, I paid €8 the other day for a pint of beer that tasted just like PBR and I wish I was kidding. I clearly need to find another drink of choice, but since I’m not big on hard alcohol, and it seems like wine is for food, I’m sort of at odds here. So I guess expensive beer it is, at least for the mean time. But I digress.

We went to the pub, where the bouncer (videur) asked me how old I was because apparently I look young? And then he looked at me all fishy when it took me a while to say “20 ans”… Dude clearly hasn’t heard about something called a language barrier. Anyhoodles. I was all excited because this place had a great beer selection, and by that I mean by French standards so far. They had Guinness, Carlsberg, and some other stuff I didn’t pay attention to, but the highlight was that they had Magners cider. I squealed like a little girl because cider is my drink of choice, other than beer of course, and the fact that I paid €6.50 for a pint of it (which is still crazy expensive, but cheap compared to the French PBR) and didn’t have to tip the bartender… It was exciting.

We hung out for a bit at the bar and I really, REALLY liked these girls. I told them about my confrontation with the other American girl about whores and sex parties, and they totes agreed with me there, so they seem super open-minded and not ashamed to talk about sex. Which is very important, you know, because I need people to teach me how to say naughty things in French in case I ever found myself in a Situation.

Anyway, after a little bit, we left that bar to find somewhere else to drink, but we couldn’t find anywhere and we just wandered around aimlessly looking for them hot guys. We kinda gave up on it and ended up at a Lebanese sandwich shop, which totally made my night because they sold amazing, amazing food. At the recommendation of some of the girls, I got this sandwich called “the Lebanese,” which has cheese, mayo, some chicken in a spicy sauce, olives, and cornichons, which I later discovered are just gherkins. So what they do is that they have the bread dough, and they put it on some dome-shaped hot iron thing, and they put the toppings on top of the dough, so your bread cooks with the filling, and then they wrap it up and serve it. It was all sorts of tasty, although I wanted hot sauce with it. But still, this was a good start to my “Find the best falafel/Middle Eastern-y sandwich hole-in-the-wall” tour of Paris.

We called it a night pretty early because I was wearing heels and wanted to take the closest train back home, which stopped service at 1 AM. (But also, I knew the night wasn’t going anywhere, so I cut my losses. I sound like a cunt because these girls were so nice and friendly, but I mean, I needed to get my drink on and meet guys, you know?)

So. No hot guys. But I did get one creeper tap me on the shoulder and ask me if I live around here! Weird pick-up strategy.