That was the semaine that was

I'm desperately trying to use today (which is gloomy and overcast) to try to get this blog up to date, so I hope my readers will forgive me if I write one of those "OMG it's been a busy week and this is everything I did in the last seven days" kind of posts.

The main issue last Sunday was dealing with the delicious leftovers from the previous evening's revelry. These included this delicious millefeuille:

which my classmate Ai had been kind enough to bring on Saturday evening. In addition to this, there was a multitude of strawberries and an enormous bowl of whipped cream. Obviously the only sensible course of action was to go out and buy another bottle of champagne and invite Nancy and Gabriella over to help out. We spent a lovely afternoon together and deluded ourselves that the long walk we took afterwards neutralized our caloric excesses.

After an afternoon class with Danielle, I saw Nancy and Gabriella again on Tuesday (which was, of course, a holiday to celebrate the International day of the Worker). We went to see a fine Chilean movie ("Viejos Gatos") together. Afterwards we enjoyed an aperitif at their friend Monique's apartment; later on I watched "Pekin Express", which is France's version of "The Amazing Race".

Here is a random picture for your amusement:

Wednesday night was the big debate between the two remaining presidential candidates, Sarkozy the incumbent and Hollande the challenger. I wish I could report that I watched the whole thing, but I gave up after the first 20 minutes or so. Sarkozy irritated me so much I wanted to stick pencils in my eyes just to make it stop. We got to watch highlights in the following day's class anyway.

On Thursday evening I went with Danielle to a flamenco concert at the big hall in Parc de la Villette. Lord knows why -- it seemed like a good idea at the time. I'd forgotten how much certain* aspects of flamenco make me want to run screaming into the night. Still, it was culcha, and we all need a little culcha in our lives.

OK, this is as updated as things are going to get for the moment, because it's almost 6:30 pm and I have to go join Nancy and Gabriella and their neighbors to go watch the election results later on at the bar down the street from them. Let's hope things go according to projection, and that we will be seeing the last of this particular individual (seen here cozying up to Marine LePen). I wonder how long before Carla Bruni dumps him if he loses?

Coming very soon (I promise) -- details of my activities on Friday and Saturday -- in a very special post #200 to this blog. And I have some thoughts (well, more of a rant) about certain aspects of the French language that I know you will want to hear.

* : the caterwauling, the ridiculous macho posturing of the dancers -- oh, let's be brutally honest here -- the whole damned spiel, with the possible exception of the guitar-playing, which is unfortunately usually drowned out by the hideous caterwauling