Don't be fooled. This is in no way a pumpkin pie. T'is but an imitation. My pumpkin substitute is this squash-y type thing called (in French) a Potimarron. It looks a little bit like a pear shaped pumpkin but smaller, and gets its name because its flesh has the nutty taste of chestnuts (marron in French). To be honest, it was damn good. Wish we could get us some potimarron in the states.
My hallmates, Dominique and Kira, hopefully enjoying the meal that I practically forced them to eat.
Catherine holding the carcass of the little chicken I roasted. I've never cooked a chicken before (in this manner, after putting it in the oven, I transferred responsibility to her).
As American as ... Hmm, I can't remember the rest of that phrase.
I had the good fortune of witnessing the elusive
Frenchstudentus groovicus, in their natural high school dance habitat - getting down in the high school cafeteria. Interestingly, their mating rituals are quite similar to their close relative,
Americateenagerus awkwardus. The dance concluded with John Lennon's "Imagine" where everyone in the room formed a large circle, put their arms around each others' shoulders and swayed to the music. Not bad, not bad.
Uh oh, Kira and my close brush with the law... When they saw us posing for photographs in front of their vehicles...
Quaint Chateau Thierry. However, do note the most uninspiring monument in France. It seems to be simply a large, phallic concrete pole, sticking out of the ground. I have no problem with phallic monuments in principle, consider the Eiffel Tower for example, however, this just seems a little too random.
I've tried, and I can't give you a single reason Why not. Except perhaps that they close at 8 pm. Come on, that's not the American way.
Aw, cute.
Don't be fooled. This is in no way a pumpkin pie. T'is but an imitation. My pumpkin substitute is this squash-y type thing called (in French) a Potimarron. It looks a little bit like a pear shaped pumpkin but smaller, and gets its name because its flesh has the nutty taste of chestnuts (marron in French). To be honest, it was damn good. Wish we could get us some potimarron in the states.
My hallmates, Dominique and Kira, hopefully enjoying the meal that I practically forced them to eat.
Catherine holding the carcass of the little chicken I roasted. I've never cooked a chicken before (in this manner, after putting it in the oven, I transferred responsibility to her).
As American as ... Hmm, I can't remember the rest of that phrase.
I had the good fortune of witnessing the elusive Frenchstudentus groovicus, in their natural high school dance habitat - getting down in the high school cafeteria. Interestingly, their mating rituals are quite similar to their close relative, Americateenagerus awkwardus. The dance concluded with John Lennon's "Imagine" where everyone in the room formed a large circle, put their arms around each others' shoulders and swayed to the music. Not bad, not bad.
Uh oh, Kira and my close brush with the law... When they saw us posing for photographs in front of their vehicles...
Quaint Chateau Thierry. However, do note the most uninspiring monument in France. It seems to be simply a large, phallic concrete pole, sticking out of the ground. I have no problem with phallic monuments in principle, consider the Eiffel Tower for example, however, this just seems a little too random.
I've tried, and I can't give you a single reason Why not. Except perhaps that they close at 8 pm. Come on, that's not the American way.
Aw, cute.
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