I know you’re all wondering, and so I’d just like to get it out there.
We are in the heart of fois gras country and apparently there’s a lot of issues over the whole force feeding and the horrid manner in which theses goosies are raised. (I have never been aware of the issue before this trip.) PETA would have a fit over me saying all of this, but I love the stuff! Bring it on! If there’s something on my plate and it tastes delicious, then bring me more! Several stories to highlight my point:
-We passed a farm of geese yesterday and they were all out laying on a dirt patch that I believe was once covered in grass. It was a meager setting and hotter than merde, but nothing too oppresive. It was no Jungle a la Sinclair. We have ranches in the States where cows and chickens are raised and injected with growth hormones. I ask you, what’s so different than this? The guys aren’t being hurt and you’re just maximizing you’re return.
-I have to admit that whenever dining at a restaurant or cafe (see: 3 times a day), it’s always very interesting because very little English is spoken. When you mix that with the fact that I speak next to nothing of the French language, you make for some very interesting menus selections. Me: "What’s L’entrement?" Mom: "I don’t know" Me: "Hmm.. I guess we’re about to find out." When I ordered said entrement, I was presented with three patties covered in a mushroom sauce over waffles. WAFFLES!! YAY! I was do distracted by the waffles that I forgot to examine the entrement before consumption. One. Two. Three bites in. Sacre Blu! This is good stuff! I then remembered I had to examine what entrement was. It had a meaty consistency to it, but it was too fine. As I looked closer, I realized it was liver. I was eating liver from a goose! I was completely tricked by the lack of language but delightfully surprised by what I was consuming.
Up to that point, I had only taken down little bits and pieces of the gras of fois, but after these two experiences, I am all about the stuff. Normally I never eat stuff that I know what it is, but thanks to the language barrier, I am eating all sorts of new foods. MM, dericious!!
(And then I start to think about the PETA people. They don’t like this stuff. Are they completely against fun too!? Are they the ones who repeatedly try to cancel Christmas and set the record "straight" about the Easter Bunny? I’d like to talk about this some more, but I guess it’s an issue for another post.)
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NB: Just back from dinner and had the duck. It wasn’t that good. A fluke? Mebbe. Rethinking my stance. Stay tuned.
After a particularly long and arduous weekend, I could not muster the strength nor the creativity to craft a post worthy of this blog. After all, it is apparent that the only ones reading are my mother and godmother and toad (thanks, guys). So, to honor the request of one of these faithful readers, I give you forthwith:
WHAT TO EAT AT TACO BELL:
Cheesy Gordita Crunch (no lettuce) - this little number flashed on and off the menu last fall, but most still serve it because it’s not really that hard to make: it’s a hard shell taco enveloped by a gordita (flatbread) shell (soft, like a pita, but thicker than that) with a layer of cheese in between. Then it’s just ground beef and cheese with a tangy sauce as filling for the taco. I opt for no lettuce for a few reasons: 1) it’s shredded iceburg lettuce, so it doesn’t stay in the taco and it gets EVERYWHERE. 2) Iceburg lettuce offers no nutritional content anyway, so why add bulk to the final offering? and 3) I never get lettuce on any of my fast food selections because it tends to get wilty, slimy and gross when it’s warmed up, and I hate that. So, no lettuce.
Grilled Stuft Burrito – this is kind of a tasty little number. You can get ground beef, chicken, or steak as the filling, to compliment the hearty beans, seasoned rice, the three-cheese combo of cheddar/pepperjack/mozarella, pepperjack sauce and fiesta salsa that is encased in a large, soft flour tortilla, then grilled to perfection. Again, greatly enhanced with a little Border Sauce of the "Hot" variety.
Steak Grilled Taquitos – more flour tortilla, this time wrapped tightly around carne asada and cheddar cheese and then grilled. It comes with your choice of sour cream, guacamole, or salsa as dipping sauce. I usually opt for the sour cream and go with a Border Sauce/sour cream combo to flavor the taquitos with.
Cheese or Chicken Quesadilla and Bean Burritos - really, how can you go wrong with quesadilla? Or the equally simple bean burrito? Especially when they are enhanced by the magical qualities of "Hot" Border Sauce?
I am on a diet. Starting today. PDX Pup is looking a little PDX Portly these days, and next month I have to go to Mexico. I know, I know you’re all saying "Really? You have to go to Mexico? Rough life." But really, it’s the middle of June in Mexico which is going to be sticky and uncomfortable even if I do plan to be in the pool or air conditioned rooms. And, if you’ve ever seen any pictures of me, it’s fairly obvious my people dwelled in caves for thousands and thousands of years, while the people I’m going with? Well, they’re not Mexicans, but they are Italian and they have a decidedly unfair advantage over me, and that’s their inability to get sunburned. (Quick Story to back up my pasty whiteness: Hawaii – between 8th and 9th grade. Older brother Benihanna and I get dropped off at Hanauma Bay to do some snorkeling. We proceed with the sunblocking (SPF 45) and get to the uncomfortable point of us having to rub sunscreen on each other’s back. We hurry, do the best we can and then jump in the water for some adventure. Later that night, we both start complaining of kind of sore backs but not really all over, just in spots. We lift our shirts over our backs to see hand prints and finger streaks, accentuated by red blotches of sun in the spots we missed. I’m not kidding. You could see my hand print on the side of Benihanna’s stomach. Painful, but kind of hilarious.)
Anyways, back to the diet. Yes. And exercise. Gah. Exercise. But that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing to let you know my number one pitfall for dieting. And it’s not fast food–not fast food, generally speaking at least, because I can go without the McDonald’s and Burger King. Those places aren’t that addictive to me. There’s only one place that can sink my diet faster than the sinking of Sanjaya’s "career"
TACO BELL
That ish is like crack, yo. I swear they put addictive drugs and/or chemicals in their food to make consumers crave it. It seems innocuous, sure. The Bell has seemingly escaped the clutches of Morgan Spurlock and the writer of Fast Food Nation. Yeah, those guys focused on the burger joints with their trans-fat fries and mega-fatty burgers with their inhumane and objectionable breeding practices for the meat. But how did that damn chihuahua escape the evil eye of watch-dog (hehe) consumers. Cheesy Gordita Crunch, no lettuce! Chicken Quesadilla! Grilled Stuft Burrito! Bean and Cheese Burrito! I can’t help myself, but starting today I’ll have to. I haven’t had Starbuck’s in almost a week, and there was a time when I didn’t think that would be possible. So if I can kick the Bucks, I am hoping (fingers crossed) that I can kick that damn dog out of my life once and for all.
I bought this today purely out of amusement factor. Apparently it’s some sort of canned pudding (At least that’s what the label says, ingredients unconfirmed). The Brits love to can all their foods (a throw back to WWII food rationing mebbe?), and it doesn’t surprise me that they would also can their dessert. I might try it, I might pass. I’ll keep you posted.
As you all know, Wednesday is rugby day. Yesterday, in the final week of classes, we wrapped up the rugby season by playing the annual "England Versus Rest of the World." I was on the Rest of the World team, of course. The end result? The World came out victorious. 37-26. Hell yeah!! Here’s a pic of both teams at the end of the game.
So after the match, we descended on Chinatown for the end of the year team dinner. We ate, laughed, and had good banter. My friends visiting from back home had quite the eye opening experience seeing how their counterparts across the pond party. The highlight of the night? I was awarded the Player of the Year for the second team. The trophy? I think it rivals Mr. Heisman himself. My ego only gets bigger….
We’ve currently got some visitors from the Bronx. It’s amazing what Spring Break brings. Between those studying and now the visitors, I think we’ve got half the population of the school currently here. A huge break through. Last night, we ventured and found the best place for kebabs in London. It’s a great little place on Old Kent Road, right near the Tesco. The neighborhood is quite dodgy, but we were up to the adventure. It was reminiscent of the streets of the Bronx (see: Webster Avenue). Now, I consider myself a kebab connoisseur. I’ve had them in NYC, Germany and all over London (even one in Paris), and this was one of the best ones to date. It really lived up to it’s billing. The lamb was great. The lettuce, red and white onions, jalapenos: only the freshest ingredients. And the chips? Hot out of the fryer with salt and vinegar. Could a guy ask for more? I don’t think so. I don’t want to name names, but some members of the group (*Cough* New Jersey *Cough* *Cough*) didn’t exactly enjoy it though. "Yo bro, where’s the rice? I need my rice. This isn’t that good. Platter [NYC kebab place] is so much better than this." My response? Fuhgettaboutit! While NYC does have a good offering to the kebab gods, its got nothing on the kebabs over here in Europe. My hypothesis is that the further you get away from Turkey, the worse the Kebab becomes (Germany has the best kebabs, to date). I think
I’ve been snacking on some form of the kebab since my days of Pig
Out in the Park and more recently Pita Pit, but I’ve just begun to formally recognize the Art of the Kebab. Stay tuned for more kebab discussions. I’m going to try to get back there and take some pictures, so that you all can salivate over the glorious kebabs here in London.
Last Tuesday I had lunch with my friend Emma. We went to this great Indian place and got kebabs. As kebabs go, they were pretty good. The only other place, surprisingly, where I’ve had better is in Germany (But I digress). We hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks. I had been traveling, she had friends in town and between those and school and work, we were genuinely busy people. She loved hearing stories of my trips to Dublin,Cologne, and Glasgow. She has traveled too. She’s gone to Stonehenge, Bath, and Salisbury, just to name a few. She was itching to go on another trip and asked me if I wanted to go. I quickly agreed, figuring that going cold turkey after traveling the past three weeks would be rather difficult and agreed to a day trip. She suggested Stratford-upon-Avon. Now, I know I am going to catch an lot of hell for this, but if you’ve seen one small English cottage town, you’ve seen pretty much them all (Yes, I know how absurd that statement is, but after you’ve been to Twickenham (home stadium of the English national team), I think everything else pales in comparison. Sorry. [Insert dumb jock comment here]). I suggested Paris instead and she jumped on the idea. Emma went when she was a senior in high school with her mother, loved it immensely and wanted to go back. Within hours we had found a tour company that offered a package that included round trip tickets to Paris and a hop-on/hop-off bus style tour for a day and made our booking. Flash forward to Saturday. While bed time was rather early (Hey, midnight is early!), the 4:30 AM wake-up call came a little too soon. We were at Waterloo International Train station at 5:30 AM ready to go. Surprisingly, the place was full of people. Not packed, but still there was enough business for both the Costa and the Golden Crust to be open. The train pulled out of the station at 6:30 and three
hours later, we were in Paris. I must admit, it was rather surreal. I was still half asleep during the walk to and the whole Waterloo business and then to fully come away and alter to your surroundings in Paris is, in a word, mind-boggling. We met our liaison from the tour company and we were off! We were taken to the bus stop and our first stop was the Opera House. We took a circle of the building and I was blown away. Was all of Paris going to be like this? Still experiencing shocks of being in Paris, the sight of the Opera House wasn’t helping anything. From there, we weaved our way through Paris and suddenly we were on the Champs de Elysees. Wait. What? All I could think of was Lance. It was cool. Damn cool. At the end of the long, slightly inclining avenue and quite hard to miss, the Arc de Triomphe dominated. Your eyes are naturally drawn to the Arc. Not only is the Arc artistically executed perfectly, it’s presentation is … yeah, that good. As you know, I enjoy triumphal arches. I was at the triumphal arch of all triumphal arches. What is going on? This is crazy! What was to come next? The bus then took us over to the Chaillot Quarter. DK Eyewitness Travel describes:
The Chaillot Hill, with its superb position overlooking the Seine, was the site chosen by Napoleon for "the biggest and most extraordinary" palace that was to be build for his son — but by the time of his downfall only a few ramparts had been completed.
Superb view of the Seine it was. Right across the bank was the Eiffel Tower. Wow. I can’t reiterated to you enough: speechless. What tricks were coming up next? I waited in anticipation. Next stop: Why the Eiffel Tower, of course. We got off the bus and wandered around for a while. I will stop saying how cool everything is, because it all was way too cool. We tried to go on the boat tour that we had also paid for, but we had missed it by twenty minutes, so wandered off to grab lunch. We could catch the boat later.
Crepes? Let’s just say I couldn’t stop eating them. This is me later in the day at another crepe stand. I really like them, and consequently, couldn’t stop eating them. After our glorious feast of delicious crepes (Me: Brie cheese with mushrooms. Emma: chocolate and bananas.) we got back on the bus which delivered us to Notre Dame. I was beginning to realize why everyonelovesParis so much. After another crepe and a great tour of Notre Dame, we started to walk. We crossed the river and started winding our way through St. Germain. This place was cool. This place was hip. This place had it going on. There was a street band playing.
As we continued to wander (perambulate you might say [ba-dump. ching!] {okay, i’ll stop now}), I was feeling cooler by the minute. We turned the corner and my senses were over come. This apparently was the food street. There was a kebab place, a crepe window, a sushi offering, a Mexican delight, sausages roasting on a grill, another three kebab places, some sort of Chinese deliciousness. Each restaurant had a window to order from the street and I was tempted to stop at every single place and try it all, but then I remembered: We only have a day here. It was already 3 PM and our train was leaving at 8. Time was precious. Besides, I’d be back in a month (oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I’m going back to Paris in a month for five days. This day trip was merely "scouting" for what is to come) I’d have plenty of time to sample to my heart’s desire then. We continued our sensory tour through the Paris neighborhoods (even managed to pick up two bottles of French wine, one from Bordeaux and one, highly recommended home brew)and eventually made it back to the Eiffel Tower where our boat tour would commence. So yeah. I know I said I’d stop with the OOhs and AAhs of Paris, but tour by water deserves mention of at least two OOhs and three AAhs. A city very much built on both sides of the water, this was quite stimulating. We got to see the Louvre, Notre Dame, Musee d’Orsay amongst other things. Wow. Incredible. I was now expecting to be blown away every three seconds. Next to the crepes, the bridges on Paris were my favorite thing. Each bridge is uniquely designed and uniquely beautiful. When I come back, much time will be spent photographing these beauties.
After our great cruise, we hoped in a cab and jetted up to Sacre Coeur (hey, it wouldn’t be a proper post here at Perambulation if there wasn’t at least one linke to Wikipedia). This church is built on top of a hill overlooking Paris around the turn of the century giving thanks for the victory in the Franco-Prussian war. Just as we were arriving, it started raining. Pouring, in fact. But suddently, after about thirty seconds, it stopped. The result? A fabulous view over looking Paris from an even more breath-taking church and now a double rainbow. Yes. That’s right. To make a already great day perfect, well, yeah. I’ll sum it up with this photo.
By this point, it was safe to say we were exhausted. With at day that began at 4:30 AM, we were ready for a nice warm meal and a bed. We could get one immediately, but the other would have to wait. We walked down from the church into the neighborhood that sat in it’s footsteps. We found a place that offered comfort food, something our bodies needed after a long day of trains, buses, boats, taxis, walking and crepes. Our comfort food? Chinese. Haha, you’re gonna call me crazy (’You’re crazy!’) but you should expect that kind of behaviour by now (Plus, I’m going to be back in a month). It was tasty indeed. The best part? The train station was right across the street. After our meal, we crossed the street, walked to the Eurostar check-in center and headed back to London. When we pulled into Waterloo at 10:30 pm, the question was again begged: Is this real? Apparently it was. I had a camera full of pictures, a stomach full of a crepes and a bottle of wine to prove it.
When I was first approached by my friend Jesse asking me if I wanted to go to Cologne, Germany, I quickly agreed, not asking too many questions (Who were we going with? What would we do? Would someone we’d be traveling with speak German?). Turns out that Jesse has two friends from Hamburg who organized a trip to Koln (German spelling) for Karnival weekend. I knew the implications of the event (one last hurrah of all things carnal before 40 days and 40 nights of fasting and repentance in preparation for Easter), but I didn’t know too much about the European traditions. Man, was I in for a surprise, and some fun too. Our flight took off at seven in the morning on Saturday, which required us to begin the journey at three thirty (London’s efficient transportation system doesn’t open until 6 AM, so we were forced to take an hour and a half bus to the airport). When we finally landed at the Koln-Bonn airport, I thought to myself "Wait, where am I?" It was rather surreal. Why? My ancestry traces back to be a majority German. We’re talking well over 70 percent here. And I was finally in the land of my peeps. I was excited. The views from the train ride into Koln from the airport were a little desolate. Even though Koln is in the west, practically every building was made out of concrete and constructed in the early part of the second half of the 20th century. I asked my friend why this was and if it was typical of all other German cities. He explained that the majority of the cities in Germany looked modern because the war destroyed a lot of the buildings and there was a need to rebuild and fast. Concrete was the cheapest way. We made it to our hotel, dropped our stuff, and headed out. I snapped a quick picture of the Koln
skyline before we left. As you notice, the big, double steepled church dominates the skyline. Called the Dom, it is the heart and soul of the city. It survived the war, but just barely. I learned that any brewery within site of the Dom can claim to be the coveted Kolner type of bier. We headed out and I immediately ate a bratwurst. Wow. Wow. Wow. AMAZING. I don’t know if it was the setting or meat itself, but it was good, damn good. It must truly be Karnival, because this was too good to be true. In the public square where we got our food, there were bands playing and people dressed up. It had a bavarian feel to it. I was thrown off for a second, because bavarian traditions usually come from the south eastern part of Germany, around Munich. We were in the West.
Regardless, people were dancing and happy. They were celebrating the end of the winter and preparing themselves for the coming of spring. People were filled with joy.
As we walked the streets, we spotted this little guy. He was on a motorized bike just riding around the streets. A few feet behind him, his owner looked on, but wasn’t paying too much attention to the dog, as he was carrying on a conversation with a friend. I don’t really know what his purpose was, but he was one hip dog. Here is a video of him in action.
After letting our surroundings soak in for a few minutes, our
German friends knew the hot spot, the place to be. We headed to the Früh. It is one of Cologne’s biggest beer halls. It serves the typical Kölsch beer of the region. The Früh complex takes up an entire block. It is a series of buildings, both new and old, that have been joined to make one large maze. Several times I got lost going to the bathroom because the place is so cavernous.
Karnival is one big costume party. People are dressed up the entire weekend. It is just like Halloween, save the smashed pumpkins in the streets. You are out of place if you’re not dressed up. And we’re not talking one day here, we’re talking a full dress costume for the entire weekend. We realized this after a few hours and journeyed back to our room to change. My friends went with the whole pirate theme, as did half of Cologne. I went another path, picking a more Asian theme.
The entire city was alive. It was one big party, starting at 10 AM each day and lasting into the wee hours of the night. The climax of the celebration came on Monday. There is a huge parade through the streets of Koln. It’s so big, in fact, that it lasts five hours. Yes, you read that correctly, five hours. Different fraternal organizations march in the parade, with each organization having several different floats, marching bands, horse back riding sections, and people on foot. They toss out candy, flowers, and kisses. One of our friend’s parents obtained primo seats, right outside The Früh. Here is a video of the action from our seats.
Finally, life couldn’t be complete without a theme song. Believe it or not, Koln has its own theme song "Viva Colonia." It’s a really catchy song. It played all weekend long. By the end, we were all singing it. Or at least pretending we were singing it along with the Germans.
Concluding, it was a fabulous weekend. I think I drank a little too much, and ate a little too much, but that’s what Karnival is for, right? Get it all out of your system now so that during those 40 days and 40 nights, you can properly reflect on your life without having any distractions. For Lent I’m giving up facebook (yeah, i rejoined for my bday) and AOL Instant Messenger. These two are the main sources for my down fall. I get on these two and can spend hours talking to friends about nothing when I should be doing work or something else valuable, like training for the half-marathon. Will I go back to Koln or Germany again? YOU BETCHA!! I had a great time. All in all the weekend?
Well, that about wraps it up from here. Sorry y’all couldn’t be here to experience such a thing. And sorry for such a lame live blog (sorry for even live bloging, what a nerd!). You live blog things like the World Series, the Oscars, or even a PDiddy party. Breakfast is such a lame thing to blog. Cause by the time it started, it was over already. Oh well, I guess it can only go up here from now. I also realize that I could have just combined all these entries into one big entry, but then what would be the fun in that? I can say (do I really want to brag about it?) that I’ve live blogged my breakfast.
All in all, loved the marmite. Gotta remember to spread it thin though. I think consuming globs of it at a time will take some time getting use to. We’ll see.
That’s all I go from here. You keep it classy, San Diego.
Haha, you’re gonna call me crazy (’You’re crazy!’) but you should expect that kind of behaviour by now (Plus, I’m going to be back in a month). It was tasty indeed. 
