Christmas in the City

In an unprecedented turn of events, the American and I decided to actually get out of the house yesterday and take a trip into the big city. As usual, there were some noteworthy moments.

Actually, I'm jumping ahead a little so let's review first.

We played against the Romanian team from Piatra Neamt who was in our 'hood on Wednesday for the Euro Cup. We finally took care of the bidness and won in 3 so life is good in that respect. We head out to Romania on Sunday for the re-match.

Win or lose in Romania, however, I found out today that we're going BACK to the Ukraine for the next round... Eff that noise. 45 countries in Europe and we get sent BACK to Russia? Ok not really "Russia" for real, but I like to think of the Ukraine as its cousin or half-brother or something... Same family yo. So it's close enough and more fun to call it Russia. Anyway my first thought upon hearing the news was, "WHAT ARE THE ODDS"?! That's when I realized I had answered my own question earlier and I know exactly what they are... 1 in 45.

Snap.

So either God thinks I didn't get enough of Mother Russia on the first trip or I've done something really wrong to deserve a repeat visit. Either way, I'm not sure what city we're heading to yet, but I've missed the Ukraine's picturesque countryside, charming Soviet architecture and smiley people... Hopefully we see another woman walking her goats on leashes like on the last trip to Odessa. Sorry to be mean Ukraine, but you've seen better days.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Being that we had a game on Wednesday, we had yesterday totally off and the American and I were fit to live large. We got up and walked to the train station in the AM to head into Toulouse for the day. We had a couple goals for the excursion:

1. Locate a toaster for under 20 Euros (me)
2. Find jeans that are long enough (The American)
3. Find appropriate 70's-era outfits for our teammate's disco-themed birthday party Saturday (both). (Nevermind the fact that I think disco is about the worst part of the worst decade she could've chosen. Don't worry though, I'm not bitter.)

We were successful on only the latter 2 points but overall I consider it a successful day.

After hearing about the disco soirée, I figured we were hooped and wouldn't be able to find any sort of acceptable attire that would otherwise be readily available in all its hideous glory in any North American Goodwill, since stores of that type don't really exist in France. Luckily, I did a little research online and we stumbled across a vintage store on the way downtown where we located a gem or two. Unfortunately none worked out (I was really hoping for the orange plaid 1-piece jumpsuit but sadly could only fit one leg in it...) but we didn't miss the chance for a photo-op and captured me sporting fabulous gold pants (the shirt is actually a dress and it's mine so back off on the comments there)...


Unfortunately we decided I was channelling a bit too much of a French police feel, since they also rock the loose-balloon-pants-tucked-into-boots look, and I regretfully peeled those beauties off. I really wanted to wear them, since it's a pretty rare occasion where metallic pants can legitimately be pulled off in public, but I'll just have to wait 'til the Ukraine to rock that type of outfit for real.

Anyway, we continued our journey through Toulouse and arrived at a giant outdoor Christmas market where I experienced my first chestnut roasted on an open fire. Now for those of you who know me, I'm known to croon a pretty solid version of Nat King Cole's timeless Christmas song, "Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire" and so the opportunity to taste said delicacy for myself was a pretty big deal. The video below captured the magical holiday moment in real-time:




When I said it was hot, I really meant it tasted like gently roasted garbage, but "hot" was the first reasonable answer that came to mind. I was caught off guard by the unexpectedly soft texture and generally awful taste so needless to say I didn't go back for seconds. The American wisely declined to try any at all. The song might be somewhat tainted for me now but I'm gonna just have to try to put this experience out of my head next time I rock out...

After the roasted nut incident, we came across a skating rink in the middle of the market and to my horror, the American confessed she'd never been ice skating. To a Canadian this was nearly inconceivable but she promptly reminded me that there aren't a lot of skating rinks just hangin around in California... Touché.

After a couple more hours of fruitless searching for jeans and disco outfits we were successful at last and decided to head back to the train station to take the 21:30 train home. While making a public spectacle of ourselves eating our dinner of salad in the station - EVERY time we eat in public in France, a passerby inevitably stops, smirks and wishes us bon appetit. What we are doing is obviously equivalent to disgracing a sacred public institution, so I guess they figure someone ought to at least start our meal out right - we were chatted up for more than a few minutes by a greying, middle-aged member of the Police Nationale. This dude obviously had nothing better to do than practice his English on some foreign kids trying to stuff their faces but he WAS wearing the loose-balloon-pants-tucked-into-boots... Just in case anyone was wondering.

So as I said, it was a good day. This has gotten pretty wordy so I probably could've summarized in a few less words... We saw some cool new stuff, ate some pretty bad stuff, and found some really ugly sparkly stuff for tomorrow.

Merry Christmas.

"And you ate the whole wheel of cheese? How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad; that's amazing"

This cat can accordion a mean Christmas medley. And, yes, those are antlers on the pooch.

We also later saw a dog wearing a hoodie.