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So, its been almost a day since I posted some pictures for you people, and the reply has been fantastic. So, keep an eye out for more.

The goings on about Paris? Well, it has been a quiet couple of days.

In fact, as I write this, Will is watching Nicole Kidman in some very adult contempo movie. She is doing some very heavy breathing as we speak. That's all I will say.

Tonight, my friends Santiago and Esteban and I watched one of the qualifying matches of the Euro Cup. It's a European Football thing, it takes place every four years, and falls in between the world cup. Tonight France played Scotland, or as Scotland is known here: Ecosse. How do these places get these names? The Greeks refer to their own country as Ellas, so how did we come to refer to them as Greeks? Odd. Its the same with Ecosse, who the hell knows.

Whatever their name, as we speak, France is losing 1-0, but their passing game is amazing. These people really know how to lose in style.

Speaking of losing, on Sunday we are back in St. Germain for another rugby game. This time it will be France v. Namibia. Um, ok... the Namibians are known for.... their, um.... skill at.... um.... speaking Namibian. That's all I can think. It should be an easy win, so of course, France will lose.

Damn.

Oh, but the US played England yesterday at 2pm our time, so 5am your time, and we lost terribly. 30 to 10. The French played harder than we did, so there.

In other news, Will and I went up to a hill in our neighborhood with some wine and just watched the search light on the Eiffel Tower and the stars. This was last night.

The wine (Bordeaux) was good, as was the conversation. Will and I went over the whole siblings conversation again. He told me, again, that more than one child in China is forbidden. He says that there are people who have more than one child, but that you have to pay extra, and most likely, the child will be a paria. How strange. My cousing just married a man with 10 brothers and sisters. Will says that he will definately have more than one child, even if he has to sneak it, because he doesnt want his first child "to go through what I did." It made me appreciate my sister. If you dont know her, she rocks, and if you do know her, get to know her better. Hell, get to know your own siblings better; at least we have siblings. Weird.

The kitchen was an exciting place to be today. The day started with the dishwasher and one of the women from HR getting into a near fist fight. That was a nice wake up call.

After that, I did the sauces and made a horse radish mousse. Very tasty.

Later, I was put on the hot line.

I started my time her stocking the vegetable fridges and making the club sandwhiches. Now I do the sauces, and today, I made the steaks on the hotline. Its tough. Most French like their steak (entricot) cooked blue or saingant (rare, or literally, bloody), so the problem is that you have no room to over cook something. This is a weak point for me, so I had to really focus.

I dont want to brag, but I nailed it. Our steaks are served with your's-truly's very own bearnaise sauce, and a side of grilled veg or frites. The steaks themselves are garnished with fleur du sel (sea salt). Very good.

I also made the St. Jacques again today, and it came out very nicely. We are really picking up.

We had a wedding on Sunday night, and a home decor convention at the hotel all week. We are over filled. One guy came to the hotel for Day Service- basically, he wanted a room to sleep in during the day, while he waited for his plane at night. He waited for over an hour, so he demanded a suite. He got it, though why he cared whether he slept in a suite or a twin bed is beyond me. In any event, his plane turned out to be early, so he slept for an hour in his suite; for this he paid $400. I am sure his company paid for it, but still, yikes.

On that note, let me say that living in a four star hotel has its perks, but it also really lets you see how much money is wasted around the world.

We had a family of four in the hotel lobby order four oragne juices, for which they paid 32 euros, or roughly $40. That is $10 an orange juice. Now the menu does say Fresh Squeezed, but I am here to tell you, we pour that from the jug, just like the Marriot does. Ten dollars, what a rip off.

We also have a hammam here. A hammam is a type of North African/Islamic bath house, minus the illicit gay sex (you pay extra for that). It consists basically of a full body massage, followed by a steam room, followed by a seaweed wrap, followed by a shower or bath. I had one in Morocco, and it was lovely in every sense of the word (except the part where the hammam guy bathed me. Really bathed me. Its their culutre so I let him, but I have never felt so self concious about my body, or about paying someone to scrub my back. Dont worry; I tipped well).

Regardless, I dont want to tell you what we charge for that. Needless to say that all in all the expereince will take you about 2 hours, and you might not have the rent when it is over.

My point, people pay waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much for stuff here. But, it is Paris, and luxury is the name of the game, even if you are flat broke.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to speak with a coworker regarding 9/11. A lot of people here were talking about it. I asked one guy I worked with what it was like for him, six years ago, to hear about the attacks. He's from China, and he reported, "Honestly, I didn't even notice."

Another guy I work with is from Egypt, and I asked him the same question; he said, "When I saw the attacks, I was so happy. Finally America will realize that they are not the center of the world, but then I was sad, because why should so many people have to die for America to see that?" Honest, at the very least.

The prevailing French opinion was, "We were very terrified and so sad. Then you attacked Iraq, and we didnt feel bad for you anymore." But the French have an expression that I have found to be very true: Les gens ne sont pas le gourvernmont. Translation: the people are not the government. It makes sense. And I am going to say this real slow-like for my red state readers:

the French dont hate the American people; they cant stand our government, but then, who can?

On another, more improper note, today the general manager of the hotel came into the kitchen to congratulate all of us on how well we are handling the sudden tsunami of guests. With him he brough a good deal of (cheap) champagne, so after a good twenty minutes of imbibing, some tongues were loosened. A coworker from Portugal named Odrey (a woman), started to speak to me in the few English phrases she knew:

"Hello Mark. My name is Odrey." "Hi Odrey, my name is Mark."

That was polite.

"I like USA and champagne, Mark. You like, too?"

"Yes, Odrey, I like them too. Thank you."

So far so good.

Then, long pause, while she pondered....

"F*** you, Mark!"

This was followed by a quiet moment of reflection.

I explained to her the translantion of this choice phrase in French, and she blushed. She admitted that her boyfriend had spent the previous evening with the stars of the American adult cinema, and this was a phrase she had picked up and was curious about. Since many people here dont know this phrase, it is how she has decided to great me and wish me on my way, when I see her. Tonight, upon entry to the emploee restuarant, the scense was as follows:

"Boy Santiago, I am really hungry. I hope they have something good for vegetarians tonight. Oh there is Odrey, I hope she doesnt...."

"F*** YOU MARK! Ha ha ha."

"Hello Odrey...."

Man, I should write for the theatre.

Well, that's about it from here. Hope you have enjoyed this slice of life.

This weekend keeps the promise of a jazz club on Friday night, the Bastille on Saturday, and, of course, rugby on Sunday.

Hope all are well, and more soon.

PS- a few pictures of some of my friends here, since people are obviously more excited by the pictures on this blog than the words. I knew I should have done an e-pop up book. Damn. Next time...

OK, so there you go: that's me in my uniform. I am not wearing my apron though, so I look kind of naked. Regardless, that's me on the right, my friend Lucia (pronouched lew-THEE-ah) in the middle (from Spain), and Roman on the left. He's French and one of the best cooks at the place. He has taught me a lot. He also recently became the father of one little girl named Mathilde. Bon chance, Roman!

So here are two of my friends that I was speaking about earlier in this blog: on the right is Esteban from Spain, and the left is Santiago. If you cant tell, both are well past the legal limit at the time of this picture. But you can't blame them: France had just let Ecosse score for the first time tonight.

And last, but certainly not least, in the center ring- ladies and gentleman, waving a BIG hello to everyone in the good ol' U S of A.... I give you my friend, my comrade in arms, my very own Oriental express......

My Wang.

Say hello, Willy!