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sevenswells-Jail bait
I was very amused when the salesperson at HMV asked my age when I handed her the NC-17 DVD I wanted to buy. First, in France, they don't give a flying fuck about selling restricted movies or games or books to whomever might fancy it -- except if you truly look underage, like, if you're 6 (and even in that case, sometimes, I guess they still don't). I found it refreshing somehow, especially since -- Second, generally people tell me I look much, much older than my age (which was good when I was 12, but now I'm 24 and I'd like not to be told I look like I'm 40). So it was nice, for a change, even though the salesperson assured me afterwards that it was just standard procedure.
-The Ambiguously Gay British Men
The first difference I could make out between Paris and London was -- of course -- the men. My gaydar goes completely bonkers here, not because there are a lot of gay men in London, but because there are tons of straight men I'd swear are gayer than picnic baskets. You see that guy, he's got painted-on jeans, soft girly hands, pink cheeks and long lashes, a boyish haircut and a cute little hat perched on top, he sashays past you and you think you've figured it out, until he sees some girl who's obviously here to meet him; he flails a little, with his wrists batting in small butterfly wings movements, then walks right up to her and all of a sudden they're snogging within an inch of their life, in a very straight-couple-y way. Normal, everyday scene in London. Which, repeated a certain number of times, resulted in my brain being broken. I'm not sure anymore if that guy with dyed white-blond hair and a V-neck and a friggin' HERMES LADY PURSE I saw in the Tube today was gay or if he, too, actually had a girlfriend -- as in, he usually has sex with women. That's the effect London has on my gaydar -- it just can't tell anymore. Believe it or not, it doesn't happen to me in Paris. At. All. Which leads me to point 3:
-Is she in, trying to get out, or out, trying to get in?
The skirts really are SUPER short, here. A direct consequence of the previous point, I think: young British women really don't care about being almost half naked around young British men, and I fully understand -- why on earth should they be? My guess is that British men are too busy being ambiguous to be sexually threatening. Does sexual harassment even exist in London? No, seriously, I'm amazed, and I approve. You go, girls.
-Walk, walk, fashion baby
More or less related to the previous point too: it is SO easy to be fashionable, here. The outfits are so nice and stylish, no matter the size or height or age -- the Tube really is like a constant runway show, and I surprise myself envying some of the clothes I see on the girls here (which doesn't happen very often in Paris either; London is definitly much more of a fashion capital nowadays than Paris). And this coming from the less fashionable girl you'll ever know, I swear: the only kind of clothes I know my way around are nerd shirts. Speaking of which, here is what I bought in a comic books shop in Soho:
(w00t!)
-Red red wine
British people sure drink a lot. And I don't think that I noticed because I almost never drink alcohol myself. My friends and I have been truly shocked by people at the theatre coming back to their seats with glasses of wine or beer in their hands during intermission. This is just not done in France, no way. I was kind of gaping too when I took the south west train service and saw that man beside me casually eating a sandwich for lunch and drinking from a small bottle of wine, the kind they serve in airplanes. The bottle looked chilled, so he must have bought it in the bakery where he got his sandwich. In France, people can't be so casual about wine. You drink wine during proper meals or when you're in good company: it's a special moment, it's even a little ceremonious, a pleasure that has to be fully savored; the French equivalent of umami, I suppose. My friends who do drink alcohol always tell me how shocked they are when they watch US or British TV shows where people gulp down glasses of wine like it's water, with no "context" whatsoever -- like, they just got home from work, and they feel like having wine. I think the reaction of dismay would have been the same if the man beside me had been eating beef stew from a large cauldron right in the middle of the train -- that's the kind of effect it produced on me.
-Curry is House
French travel guides suck at indicating good Indian restaurants (Chinese restaurants too, for that matter). I went to two Indian restaurants that they recommended, and the curries were so bland I felt like crying. So I decided to ask the English natives about the whereabouts of decent Indian food. Unanimously, they recommended Brick Lane's restaurants. So I went to the "famous Curry Bazaar" there and ordered lamb shatkora curry. Not bad at all; the shatkora (which is a Bengali fruit, apparently) had a strong citrus flavor that I loved, the only problem was that the curry in itself wasn't particularly spicy. Thankfully, the szechuan fried chicken that I ate the following day in a very nice Chinese restaurant corrected that for me.
(Appetizers and Shatkora curry)
(The AWESOMELY SPICY szechuan chicken I had at Canton, a Chinese restaurant in China Town. It left my lips tingling in a very pleasant way; it also had green onion bulbs cut in half which were sweet and crunchy; this dish made my day)
-White and nerdy
I iz such an otaku. I can't help but refer to the Tube's Circle Line as the Yamanote. WTF. Plus the Circle Line isn't actually circular, so the comparison is even more far-fetched. Also, it's a shame that I'm going back to Paris tomorrow, because I would totally have gone there: http://uk.travel.yahoo.com/p-promo-3359558 Bad, bad fangirl *shakes head at self*
Okay, I'm tired now so I'm going to go to sleep. In the next post I'll tell you about my method to spot good Chinese restaurants, show you photos of crazy cakes, talk about great paintings depicting people getting executed and give you a recipe based on chick peas. See ya.
I was very amused when the salesperson at HMV asked my age when I handed her the NC-17 DVD I wanted to buy. First, in France, they don't give a flying fuck about selling restricted movies or games or books to whomever might fancy it -- except if you truly look underage, like, if you're 6 (and even in that case, sometimes, I guess they still don't). I found it refreshing somehow, especially since -- Second, generally people tell me I look much, much older than my age (which was good when I was 12, but now I'm 24 and I'd like not to be told I look like I'm 40). So it was nice, for a change, even though the salesperson assured me afterwards that it was just standard procedure.
-The Ambiguously Gay British Men
The first difference I could make out between Paris and London was -- of course -- the men. My gaydar goes completely bonkers here, not because there are a lot of gay men in London, but because there are tons of straight men I'd swear are gayer than picnic baskets. You see that guy, he's got painted-on jeans, soft girly hands, pink cheeks and long lashes, a boyish haircut and a cute little hat perched on top, he sashays past you and you think you've figured it out, until he sees some girl who's obviously here to meet him; he flails a little, with his wrists batting in small butterfly wings movements, then walks right up to her and all of a sudden they're snogging within an inch of their life, in a very straight-couple-y way. Normal, everyday scene in London. Which, repeated a certain number of times, resulted in my brain being broken. I'm not sure anymore if that guy with dyed white-blond hair and a V-neck and a friggin' HERMES LADY PURSE I saw in the Tube today was gay or if he, too, actually had a girlfriend -- as in, he usually has sex with women. That's the effect London has on my gaydar -- it just can't tell anymore. Believe it or not, it doesn't happen to me in Paris. At. All. Which leads me to point 3:
-Is she in, trying to get out, or out, trying to get in?
The skirts really are SUPER short, here. A direct consequence of the previous point, I think: young British women really don't care about being almost half naked around young British men, and I fully understand -- why on earth should they be? My guess is that British men are too busy being ambiguous to be sexually threatening. Does sexual harassment even exist in London? No, seriously, I'm amazed, and I approve. You go, girls.
-Walk, walk, fashion baby
More or less related to the previous point too: it is SO easy to be fashionable, here. The outfits are so nice and stylish, no matter the size or height or age -- the Tube really is like a constant runway show, and I surprise myself envying some of the clothes I see on the girls here (which doesn't happen very often in Paris either; London is definitly much more of a fashion capital nowadays than Paris). And this coming from the less fashionable girl you'll ever know, I swear: the only kind of clothes I know my way around are nerd shirts. Speaking of which, here is what I bought in a comic books shop in Soho:
(w00t!)
-Red red wine
British people sure drink a lot. And I don't think that I noticed because I almost never drink alcohol myself. My friends and I have been truly shocked by people at the theatre coming back to their seats with glasses of wine or beer in their hands during intermission. This is just not done in France, no way. I was kind of gaping too when I took the south west train service and saw that man beside me casually eating a sandwich for lunch and drinking from a small bottle of wine, the kind they serve in airplanes. The bottle looked chilled, so he must have bought it in the bakery where he got his sandwich. In France, people can't be so casual about wine. You drink wine during proper meals or when you're in good company: it's a special moment, it's even a little ceremonious, a pleasure that has to be fully savored; the French equivalent of umami, I suppose. My friends who do drink alcohol always tell me how shocked they are when they watch US or British TV shows where people gulp down glasses of wine like it's water, with no "context" whatsoever -- like, they just got home from work, and they feel like having wine. I think the reaction of dismay would have been the same if the man beside me had been eating beef stew from a large cauldron right in the middle of the train -- that's the kind of effect it produced on me.
-Curry is House
French travel guides suck at indicating good Indian restaurants (Chinese restaurants too, for that matter). I went to two Indian restaurants that they recommended, and the curries were so bland I felt like crying. So I decided to ask the English natives about the whereabouts of decent Indian food. Unanimously, they recommended Brick Lane's restaurants. So I went to the "famous Curry Bazaar" there and ordered lamb shatkora curry. Not bad at all; the shatkora (which is a Bengali fruit, apparently) had a strong citrus flavor that I loved, the only problem was that the curry in itself wasn't particularly spicy. Thankfully, the szechuan fried chicken that I ate the following day in a very nice Chinese restaurant corrected that for me.
(Appetizers and Shatkora curry)
(The AWESOMELY SPICY szechuan chicken I had at Canton, a Chinese restaurant in China Town. It left my lips tingling in a very pleasant way; it also had green onion bulbs cut in half which were sweet and crunchy; this dish made my day)
-White and nerdy
I iz such an otaku. I can't help but refer to the Tube's Circle Line as the Yamanote. WTF. Plus the Circle Line isn't actually circular, so the comparison is even more far-fetched. Also, it's a shame that I'm going back to Paris tomorrow, because I would totally have gone there: http://uk.travel.yahoo.com/p-promo-3359558 Bad, bad fangirl *shakes head at self*
Okay, I'm tired now so I'm going to go to sleep. In the next post I'll tell you about my method to spot good Chinese restaurants, show you photos of crazy cakes, talk about great paintings depicting people getting executed and give you a recipe based on chick peas. See ya.
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no subject
Date: 2010-08-17 10:16 am (UTC)And I'm keen to hear about your method to spot good Chinese restaurants! :)
no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 07:40 am (UTC)Also, your food photos... *drools*
Oh yeah... I'm generally rubbish at taking photos, but when it comes to food I'm very inspired... how strange XD
no subject
Date: 2010-08-19 06:46 pm (UTC)Contente que tu aies pris du bon temps !
no subject
Date: 2010-09-25 11:12 am (UTC)Also the thing about the wine - it's so true! We are a nation of alcoholics, it seems.