There are a lot of random thoughts that pass through my brain while I’m traveling. Each week, I’m sharing a few of them. Please don’t judge me.

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This week a little focus on the language of the land.

• My minimal skills with the French language makes it nearly impossible to retort with “that’s what she said” to what people are saying. But no matter how hard it might be, I’m doing it anyway. TWSS.
• I keep hoping I’ll find a street called Rue Maurice LaMarche and there’ll be a giant statue of Pinky and the Brain at the intersection.
• If the word gratuit means free in French, why do gratuities always cost me money?
• I figured a city named Bordeaux would be like the French equivalent of Willy Wonka’s factory, except with rivers of wine and bubbling cheese fountains.
• In France, a cul de sac is called an “impasse.” Shouldn’t the French term for cul-de sac be cul-de sac?
• I’m at a Mexican salsa club in Bordeaux and am totally confused as to how to communicate. Should I not be able to speak French or not be able to speak Spanish?
• I like that used cars in France are called “ocassion.” It makes it feel like you’re celebrating something, even if it’s just buying someone’s second hand piece of shit Peugot.
• It’s interesting that the international song for an ice cream truck is a plinky version of “Farmer in the Dell.” Wouldn’t they make about 10 times as much money if they played Justin Bieber or something?
• It’s far easier to understand the French than the group of Irish people I’m watching football with. It’s like trying to decipher Brad Pitt’s character in Snatch.
• In France, churros are called chi-chis. It makes them seem even more delicious, but now I want them served wrapped in a halter top.

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