France: where hamburgers have identity crises
Huh. Last time I remember checking, it had been 2-3 days since I’d last updated. Somehow, someone snuck in and stuffed a lot of extra days between me and the last post. The good news is that I now have something to write about that isn’t a rant about the French educational system (and really, those were becoming a bit forced, don’t you think? I’ve kind of been rehashing the same stuff over and over. Which is silly, since I’m done with the semester. Now I just have to make sure all my grades get to the MICEFA on time…)
where was I?
Oh yeah. It’s been a while (again) since I last posted, and now I’ve got stuff to post about. Which I blame on the latitude. Yes, I blame both my not posting, and the subject of this post, on the fact that I am approximately 8 degrees farther north than I’m accustomed to being (Paris is 48° 51′ 44″ N, vs. NYC’s 40° 47′). This means, you see, that the summer days are noticeably longer over here. The sun sets sometime around 10:30 pm (and in the winter, when I first got here, sunrise was around 8:00 AM). So I’ve been staying up pretty late, even without studying to procrastinate do, even without caffeine. It’s just kind of like “Surprise! 1:30 AM!” And no school to get me up early to make me tired, either. So the whole “day” thing sometimes gets a bit abstract, and next thing you know, hey, haven’t updated the blog in a while. I spent the first half of today thinking it was yesterday, and even almost forgot to check out my daily webcomics. So it goes.
This recent sense of time-dislocation is also responsible for today’s post. The causal chain is as follows:
1: “Hey, I should have lunch, or dinner, or whatever…”
2: “Huh. When was the last time I went shopping?”
3: “Plan B: Sandwich from one of the places on the corner” [there are 3-4 bakeries/sandwicheries within two blocks of the dorms]
4: “Wait, it’s 6:30? And they all close around 5:0…”
5: “Time for another foray into the exciting world of Parisian McDonalds’s!”
(as a side note, I’ve made it a bit of a habit to eventually visit, at least once, almost every McDonald’s or Quick that I come across. There have been 8 of the former, 2 of the latter in the neighborhoods I frequent. It’s just fun to compare the differences in atmosphere and clientele and the various decorative choices and layouts and so on)
Anyway, I got a 280. Not sure what it’s called in the US, if they have it over there. Apparently it’s something about “280 variations” on some basic burgerish theme. Personally, I think it’s just the French fixation with numbering things. I mean, if you’re going to give your neighborhoods numbers, why not your burgers? And so as I was reading the box (one must always read fast-food packaging materials, very interesting), I found the following assurance of cultural integrity:
Maybe a bit hard to read (I can only touch it up so much in iPhoto), but it says:
ON PEUT ÊTRE FRENCH ET BURGER À LA FOIS (one can be French and burger at the same time)
I’m not sure what amuses me more– the fact that this “don’t worry, your culture is not under attack” sentiment is something ad-copy people think of when putting together fast-food packaging, or the fact that the word French is written in English, which neatly subverts the message.
Of course, I might be reading too much into this. But hey, it’s fun to read too much into things. It keeps one’s mind creative.
In other news, a few days ago I bought some heavy-duty-ish tape, got out the scissors, and set about to take care of that annoying showerhead:
Work in progress, most of the old tape removed…
…Ta-Da!
That’s all, folks. Next post will probably have some random pictures from school, possibly some graffiti that I don’t think I’ve posted yet, and perhaps an analysis of the French lottery logo.
