La Famille

The next day, I was more lucid. So I can tell you details. I'll start out with how lovely Baptiste's home and his family is. When we arrived, his mother and sister were there to greet us (his dad works in Paris during the week and commutes home on the weekends) and it was just a really warm, really bilingual welcome. Baptiste's sister, Marie, is this gorgeous sixteen year old (who looks older than me. Damn) with hair I would trade with mine in a heartbeat. Baptiste's mom, Francoise, is someone a person can fall in love with within minutes of meeting her. Just watching her talk is really fascinating, coz has crazy curly hair and really beautiful brown eyes that her kids inherited. Unfortunately for Baptiste's dad, Raphael, she must have really strong genes from her parents (they're from Malta, which explains why Baptiste and his siblings don't actually look very French, with their dark hair and eyes), because I only catch Baptiste and Hadrien's (his younger brother who's nineteen, I think) resemblance to him in the rare photo. 

Meeting Baptiste's family is always an experience. France wasn't the first time I met them. I met Hadrien briefly when he visited Baptiste for Christmas in the Philippines in 2007 but didn't get the chance to talk to him very long. His parents and Marie came over in March or April 2007 to visit Boracay and Palawan and while they were in Manila, I met up with them several times. The strange this is, I clicked with his family but his dad speaks very heavily accented English, Marie just a little, and his mom none at all. Everything was either translated through Baptiste or in sign language but somehow, we were able to carry conversations all throughout my stay there. 

What are they like in not so brief descriptions? Well, I'll start with his dad, who came over Friday night (? I can't actually remember.). His dad is the typical dad. The first time I met them, I thought it was really funny how certain stereotypes transcend different cultures. Like from what I gauged from Baptiste and Marie's reactions to his jokes, he is the typical corny father you're occasionally embarassed to be seen around. So I thought it was hilarious, of course. He reminds me a lot of my dad. The nicest thing about it is that he took the time to talk to me about French politics, the economy, architecture, things he thought I'd be interested in. 

His mom, Francoise, was just lovely and I'm a big fan. I don't know if it's a coincidence or one reason why I like her so much but we share the same birthday, May 12. She's a talented artist, from the little I know of art and one day I hope to own one of her paintings. In fact, I was able to attend one of her exhibitions, where she displayed some gorgeous paintings, sculptures and installations made of wire, and coral from the Philippines. The coral installations were actually really interesting because she embedded corals of heart shapes into honeycombds. Baptiste though it was weird, I thought it was mega-interesting. Her lineage makes for a very interesting woman who is a study to watch and is blessed at being one of the rare people who can make all eyes turn to her when she's speaking. She also has a great, really musical speaking voice, and by profession is a music therapist. She cooks amazingly, too.

Hadrien is Baptiste's really handsome younger brother. If you don't believe me, then let me tell you, I've seen lotsa good-looking people in my life (in movies. haha.) and he is literally the handsomest guy ever. After Baptiste, of course. (I'm not just saying that coz he'll kill me but personal preference). Objectively speaking, of course. I haven't talked to him much, but I can tell he's the complete opposite of Baptiste. Baptiste is really outgoing and gregarious, and Hadrien is pretty quiet.

Marie is the only girl and I feel so sorry for her because I can tell the two have picked on her often. But she's great and nice, and tells me about her life, which I appreciate. she also practies her French on me, which is good because I need to learn it for sure. Right now, she feels like the younger sister I never had and I feel really protective of her. Which is a feat considering she towers over me.

I basically really love Baptiste's family.

Kebabs

It's really sad that my next entry is about food again (but get used to it. I'm a foodie), but I was just so tired the first day, the afternoon was just about kicking back and trying to sort out my bags, while Baptiste did last minute errands. By the time we were both done, it was dinner. He took me to his kebab place, one of the many we would have. Kebabs are everywhere. And I don't blame the French for liking it, coz for 3.50euros, they come huge, with a ton of fries, and a drink. Not bad for a meal. 

And it had our puny shawarmas beat. They're roughly the size of my face, with so much meat to make an obese carnivore happy and the fries? oh, I feel like there's a reason they're called French Fries. More often than not, they aren't the skinny kind. They're the huge fat ones that are perfectly salted and just heaven with ketchup. Best fries ever.

I'd tell you more about my first day, except honestly, it's just one hazy day full of food. I was just jetlagged to the gills. I'm not a good traveler on my own.

Dejeuner

I arrived first thing in the morning in France which would be around lunchtime at home. But since I had been traveling the whole night and apparently, by the ripe old age of twenty-one, you get creakier and more cramped in long flight plane rides so it gets harder to sleep (it doesn't help that anticipation and excitement gets you too jazzed to sleep), the first thing I did was to take a nap. A nap where I apparently snored. I'd be embarrassed but, well, I'm not. I was exhausted! Hauling luggage roughly your size is enough to make you curse the dickens out of a holy man. No offense.

So of course I woke up, feeling like hunger and the sweetest guy in the world decides to take me to a restaurant to kick of french cuisine the right way. Unfortunately, I was a little too overwhelmed looking around and breathing french air and seeing french things (which is quite different from breathing philippine air and seeing philippine things. trust me. you're in paris? you're in movieland.), that I didn't catch the name of the restaurant. 

So I ordered le welsh, upon Baptiste's recommendation. It was yummy and heart-burny, a combination of fromage, jambon, oeuf et pain. and, oh, biere. I'm just showing off. It sounds better to say I was eating cheese, ham, egg and bread. and, oh, beer. Yes, there was beer in that dish. So it was all oozy and so good, with the slight taste of boozy. Believe me, I recommend it. Unfortunately, it also felt like you were going to keel over from richness. I would totally understand if the highest percentage of gout sufferers lived in france.

Baptiste had the day's special, I think, which was beef and pasta in this really great cream sauce. Oh yeah, this French restaurant also had condiments with names. Weird, childish fun.

Baptiste gave me a crash course on french dining. One, the concept of takeaway? weird! never do! which to my tiny asian stomach was kind of like the starving children of africa were going to starve even more. The servings were huge! I don't think I was ever able to finish a meal (except if you were in a fancy restaurant, which meant smaller servings for higher prices. Which restaurateur God meant to say that fine dining prices matches small artistic looking meals that you feel slightly abashed to attempt eating? In Abbi world, big prices means big food. True dat).

Second, on top of the ginormous food sizes and the richness of the food, there are stages of dining. First, you have salad. Then you have the appetizers. Then the entree. Then the dessert. Then the bread. Then the coffee and tea. Skipping ahead to the end of my trip, when Baptiste and I gained ten pounds and pork bellies as a result of his mother's fine cooking, kebabs, restaurants, pastries I just had to try... well, suffice it to say, I ate real well. 

Third, don't mix courses. I learned this the hard way when Baptiste cooked for me and the salad he made was so good, I kept going for seconds and thirds, while eating my main dish. Which I got a stern lecture and serious eyeballing, but more on that in another entry.

Fourth, well, there's a reason why Europeans never eat out all the time. Because the prices are cuh-razy!!! Geez louise, a dish costs maybe, optimistically, six euros to topping off at closer to twenty euros? And if you order a fixed menu, you can maybe pay thirty euros per person.

Anyway, recap. Food is many, rich, comes in an order, and pricey. And damn it was delicious.