So Friday. Mmm. Friday was nice. Cali, Kate, Laura and I went to the garden at the Palais des Papes where a bunch of Popes used to live instead of at the Vatican for a couple of centuries. The Palace is huge and the gardens were incredibly beautiful. They must be amazing in the summer and spring.
The really exciting part was the evening. The four of us plus Liz joined back up again and went to a fancy-pants restaurant where we all shared some desserts and I had some champagne that was very wonderful. The restaurant was decorated in black, white and silver, with lovely chairs that resembled thrones.
There are no words for that dessert. My favorite was the mousse - and mousse is not generally my favorite. It was rich and creamy, and paired with the champagne, it was an absolute delight. It was somewhat expensive though (hence the sharing) and I saw a bottle of champagne on the list for 450 euros.
We had two people wait on us, one who we believe was actually our waiter and the other who simply brought us things. When the waiter came to pick up our dishes, he warned us that the other guy (around our age) was a "bad boy" and we should watch out for him. Of course, it was all in fun but I love hearing French people say stuff like "bad boy" or "super cool" in a French accent.
After that, we went to a bar where we just hung out for a while. The music was very loud, and when we first walked in, it was Macy Gray. A lot of American music is played in France, in the stores and bars and restaurants.
The beer was okay, nothing special in my opinion, but the fun part was the conversation we started having with a couple of French people our age. We spoke back and forth in French and English, sometimes in Franglais. One of them told me I spoke French very well, but I think he was just being polite. ;) It was there at the bar that I realized I was the only brunette in the group of girls, Cali, Kate, Liz and Laura all being blonde.
One of the Frenchmen was a very light black and although his name was Max, his friends were calling him Cashew. He explained to us that he got this nickname one day when he and his friends were eating a desert that was either flavored with cashews or had cashews on it, and a friend remarked that his skin color was similar to the color of cashews. Since then, he has been called Cashew by his friends.
We didn't really feel comfortable calling him that.
They were all super friendly. At one point, the guys went outside to smoke, and the girl who first started talking to us told us that in France it is okay to accept a drink from a man and then just tell him to fuck off afterwards. Though I still don't plan on letting any guys buy me a drink, it was good to know that attitude of "You can do what you want, but I'll do what I want".
Ah, good times. We're going to go back to that bar tonight. Perhaps we will see them again? Perhaps.