Monday, 7 July 2014

A German Breakfast in France.

Oh my gosh. So I went to France.

The thing about France is that EVERYTHING is a tourist attraction. Moulin Rouge, the Louvre, Eiffel Tower... crawling with people. Everywhere you go you can't really get a moments peace and enjoy yourself unless.... you get up at 5 am in order to get there before everyone else does. I tried this. I'm not a morning person by any means but I did it. Woke up at 5, and was downstairs for breakfast by 6.

The man that served breakfast in my hostel was really creepy. And really French. He would watch you to make sure you only took one croissant and one day he frowned at me taking 2 sugar cubes and on my 6 am early day he saw me coming and REMOVED the sugar before I could take one. Then he pretended he didn't know English when I was like, Dude I can't drink this tea without sugar.

So this random German guy offered to share his honey. I usually don't accept food from strangers but since he was using it I thought it was probably ok. And part of travelling is getting out of your comfort zone and eating mysterious honey and talking to strangers at 6 am is definitely out of my comfort zone.

So I asked this guy why he was up at 6am and he said he hadn't been to bed yet, because they were at the club all night and then drank "many bottles of wine" outside on the sidewalk. His English (for a drunk guy) was actually really good, and he was actually really good looking. Tall, blond, beardy, strapping German lad. All he was missing was the Laederhosen! They don't make guys like that in Canada... and if they do they're in the woods somewhere because I can't find them.

So my new German friend invited me to his room to drink "bottles of wine" with his friends. Hell no. I was like "Oh, sorry I'm meeting my friend, I'm going to Versailles today!" I mean... it's 6am. Do you really think I have time to become a statistic and miss my grand tour of Europe because I'm skinned alive in a creepy hostel in france? Actually... it was a really nice design hostel.

So instead my new German friend invited me to come to Germany! "You must come to Germany and stay at my house and we will go to nightclubs! Germany has the best clubs and we will dance!" He gave me his phone number in Berlin... his address... he told me which train to take and all that jazz. I was kind of regretting putting makeup on.

(This is the best part.)

Then he made a sandwich and beat boxed for me. When I say that he "beat boxed" what I mean is that he said "boots and pants and boots and pants and boots and pants and boots and pants" over and over again... while doing a rave dance shuffle and eating a sandwich.

And I never saw him again...