America is numero uno

[Hi, hello, apologies. I'm getting lax with the blogging because quite simply blogging here kind got boring now that Facebook is pretty much every possible blogging, photo sharing, video sharing web 2.0 website rolled into one. But, I will try to persevere! Keep on bloggin! Blah, blah, blah.]

Partying with Spaniards is effin' exhausting (perhaps slightly less exhausting than the Argentinians). One night a week is all I can possibly handle, and now I am back in the south of France.

So, back to the subject of this post re: America is numero uno.... while in Barcelona, a group of us went to one of the popular clubs, "Razzmatazz"--well, it was one of the stops of that night's tour. Despite its unquestionably lame name, the place was one of those huge multi-level, multi-room establishments, and it was absolutely bursting at the seams with people looking like they stepped out of an American Apparel advert. And you know what all those multitudes of people were giddily dancing away to? American indie rock, bay-bee. I was feeling quite smug with a healthy dose of American arrogance as I leaned into my Aussie mate and screamed, "Everyone wants to be American," over the roar of the music. He gave me a "whatever" look (but he knows I am right, heh heh).

Anyway, they can make fun of the falling financial markets all they want, but no matter how hard they want to deny America and American culture, it is effin' pervasive.

Aside from partying, there is much to see and do in Barcelona (such as see Jason Schwartzman eat and not do anything about it).


The fountain is magic thanks to me. ("Magic Fountain", Barcelona: choreographed fountain entertainment like the Bellagio, but better)


Steph & I outside the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's famous temple. Also, this is why people bring tripods instead of asking a passerby to snap a photo--chances are the passerby is an idiot and clearly this called for PORTRAIT as opposed to LANDSCAPE framing. Gaw-duh. Incidentally, if you ever see me passing by and want a photo taken, I actually know how to do it properly.


And no trip to Barcelona is complete without overdosing on seafood in the form of fried tapas or paella. "Black rice" paella--rice is black from squid ink! Yummay.

Pandas don't mix with movie stars

I think I sat next to Jason Schwartzman in Barcelona at a teeny tiny tapas bar. Actually, I am 99.9% sure. That, or his more attractive doppelgänger. Then again, my memory of Schwartzman is forever etched as the nerdy kid in "Rushmore". He certainly looks very handsome in his more recent IMDB photos--and also at the bar.

This marks the second time I have failed in connecting with the stars while on the European leg of my trip. The first time was my almost best-friending James Franco in Berlin thanks to Eliot... that's another story.

(Am totally kicking myself for not going to say hello)

In Toulouse and resting

I'm in Toulouse with family now. My second cousin lives here with her family. Her eight-year old son, Thomas (en francais, Toe-ma), speaks French fluently, can count in English, and is able to to even manage some mandarin, but with a French accent. It's one of the funniest things I've ever heard. Imagine mandarin with a French accent--seriously, it's hilarious. Also when he speaks, he sounds wise beyond his years if you ignore all the childish giggling.

I've decided that the thing about the French language is that even when a child speaks, they sound indefinably old. Perhaps this is why the French aren't a particularly funny people--even when they're young they sound--and subsequently are--so serious. Of course, this is all purely speculation on my part based on a sample size of one. So uh, yeah.

Life in the south of France is lovely.

Oh, since my last update I did a quick tour through Pisa, Monaco, and Nice before gunning for Toulouse. I meant to visit Aix-en-Provence, but sweet thoughts of kicking back and relaxing in a family home in Toulouse were too strong.


With Steph... it's the Fake David!!! (Florence)


It's the leaning tower! (Pisa)

Blah blah. Ok, so heading to Barcelona for a few days on Thursday. Woohooooo. Tapas, sangria, siestas on the beach here I come!

On books and how they're crappy

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List: Books 2008

Books I've read or reread, 2008 edition. The list is REALLY short as I've not really been reading while travelling. Mostly my free time is spent catching up on current events (oh, so far behind!). But, I will continue documenting my books... * denotes it's highly recommended (which isn't to suggest that the ones without *s are no good--they are.) strikethrough denotes I couldn't finish it (these are probably no good)

1. The Red and the Black by Stendahl
2. The Wars Against Saddam: Taking the Hard Road to Baghdad by John Simpson *
3. Sweet Valley High: Ms. Quarterback by Francine Pascal (haha)
4. Bel-Ami by Guy de Maupassant *
5. Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote *
6. Letters to a Young Contrarian by Christopher Hitchens (last few letters are v. good)
7. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (classic or not, it ain't for me)
8. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote *
9. JPod by Douglas Coupland
10. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
11. The Long Tail by Chris Anderson (one paragraph thesis is more than enough)
    
12. Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse
13. Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella (awful chick lit)
    
14. Atonement by Ian McEwan
15. The Entire Twilight Series by Stephanie Meyer (awful YA for market research--heh heh)
16. The Crazed by Ha Jin
17. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
18. Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There by David Brooks
19. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga *
20. CURRENTLY: Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
21. CURRENTLY: The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch
    

Updates to demonstrate the blood is still running through my veins.

Having a lovely, albeit unusually wet, time in Florence (Firenze). As such, haven't been much in the bloggin' mood. Saving the rest of Italy for another trip. Heading to the Tuscan countryside tomorrow for a day trip before departing Italia for the south of France. Nice is calling. /end quick update.

Spreadin' my Nu-t-ella, ella, ella

While admiring my miniature single-serving containers of Nutella (perfect for travelling) this evening, I had the brilliant idea to parody Rihanna's "Under My Umbrella" with something far more clever relating to Nutella. But before getting all crazy rewriting lyrics, I did a quick google and discovered--to my dismay--two YouTubers who already had this stroke of genius. (Here and here)

Damn youz!

Anyway, too bad none of them know how to freakin' pronounce NU-tella!

Get with the program doods: it's NU-tella not NUT-ella.



(Upcoming itinerary: Leaving Dubrovnik in the AM and heading back to Split. Taking the ferry to Ancona, Italy on Thursday.)

Back to the tropics

In the "Pearl of the Adriatic" at the moment: Dubrovnik, Croatia. Not much time to update. Photos will suffice.


(Trogir, Croatia)


(On the ferry to the island of Vis; view of Split)

European identities

Europe is very old and very white. It's not the new world where pretty much everyone is from everywhere. In Paris, I have a couple of non-white friends who, while they freely say they are French, always add to it with, "Oh, but I am Madagascarian" or "Oh, but I am half Lebanese" or whatever as the case might be.

Personally, I've never felt the need to add an addendum to the response, "I'm Canadian." Of course, that doesn't mean people won't further ask, "Oh, but what's your ethnic background?", however they usually do this out of curiosity and not as a way to demonstrate how I am not a real "Canadian". You can tell it is an awkward question for them to ask based on how long it takes for them to formulate a politically correct way of phrasing the question and how embarrassed they are to ask it--or at least, I've felt this is the case. Point is, I don't just offer up the Chinese part of my identity because I do identify myself more as a Canadian. And usually, when in North America, people just accept the answer.

I will have to see how my relatives in Toulouse identify themselves. Wish I had some Asian friends in Paris to interrogate!

Oh, et je suis malade. Quel dommage. Je pense qu'il a commencé à Berlin où j'ai mangé des barre-arachides. Comprends? C'était stupide. Toutes les personnes savent ces arachides sont malpropres. Je ne sais pas si le mot "malpropres" est approprié ici. WHATEVER!

Oh, French doesn't have a translation for "Whatever" exactly. But some variations: "On se branle"... hehe. Sam, if you're reading this: it's so you!