So I just finished this book which realistically wouldn’t normally have made the list of books I read from begining to end, in large part because the woman who wrote the bookwas writing about a man as the main character. Usually I don’t have a problem with this but in this case there was no need for him to have been a man, he could have just as easily have been a woman. And my goodness, for someone who owes the writing of the book to her husband she really doesn’t seem to get men at all.

Would an 80 year old man really tell another man, “She was an earthy woman, nice to lie on too!” when speaking of his wife?

Would a man in the throes of sex really be thinking ‘She smelt woody, like the forest, and I closed my eyes to sharpen my sense of smell so I could savour it’?

Would the same man, still in the thores of sex really have ‘hands that were warm like dough straight from the oven’?

Anyway, I read the whole book, doughy hands and all cause I’m stuck in an airport for six hours and the duty free stores can only hold ones attention for so long. 

So my first introduction to Norway was two or so years ago when I went to Oslo. It was expensive, boring, and all around sucked.

Since then I have to admit to being somewhat prejudiced against Norway. I find myself now having to eat my words. Oh don’t get me wrong, Norwegian food makes British food seem like truffles and foie gras. Case in point, the mayor put on a buffet dinner for us last night and the buffet included such delicacies as cold meetballs, shredded carrots and onion rings. Yep, onion rings at a fancy-shmansy buffet - weird eh?

Anyway despite the awful food, the tiny town in Southern Norway was beautiful. Almost every house had a view of the sea, the town was dominated by gorgeous white wooden houses with red roofs and the people in the town came in all shapes and sizes (unlike Oslo where 95% of the population looks exactly the same - very Norwegian). Also the Norwegians seem to have the same obsession with being on time that I have. It makes me feel less like a freak when everyone rushes to get to the boat because ‘it would be inpolite to keep people waiting’.

Ah yes, timeliness the forgotten art.

So this is going to be really quick because I’m boarding in 5 minutes although the boards are still telling me to ‘wait for gate’. So I’m waiting and blogging.

First of all, CDG airport is the most ghetto airport ever, it’s under permenant construction, the windows haven’t been cleaned in seven years (give or take) and there is seating available for approximately 10% of the people who actually need them.

Second of all, SAS is a ghetto airline, they manage to serve meat that’s warm at the edges and stone cold in the middle (microwave anyone), the bread is soggy on one side and rock hard on the other and the flight attendents wear ratty aprons with freying edges - bear in mind that I was flying business.

BUT
My god the bathroom. Never have I seen such a bathroom on an airplane. It had windows - two of them - with shades that you could pull down or leave up. There was more room in there than in the entire galley, there were three (yes 3) shelves for stuff and real lights. The only kinda sketchy thing was the full length mirror on the door directly in front of the toilet - there’s no way to avoid seeing all the things that no one wants to see when they’re on the toilet. Well, there’s one way, I closed my eyes.

Anyway it would be a mile high club dream if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s no way to subtely sneak more than one person in, it is right at the front of the cabin, no corners, no curtains, no dark hallways. It’s probably for the best though, you don’t want to be dumping your carryon on a sunset bathed giant shelf where someones been monkeying around while watching the action in a mirror.

And with that, I bid you adieu, for the time being.

My blog was down for a little while the other day. Did anyone else notice? Also did anyone else notice:

1. that the tea at the conference tastes a lot like coffee

2. that the ‘beef’ at lunch wasn’t beef at all - I like to think it was lamb but this is France, what if it was horse

3. that the red man means don’t walk and the green man means go ahead and take your chances

4. that I have put on at least five pounds over the past four days - most of it being foie gras (which I know I’m not really supposed to eat) and cheese

5. that Charles de Gaulle airport (Charles de Gaulle was a hack by the way) is actually a giant rat maze and we’re all squeaky little rats trying to fight our way through it

So Switzerland is behind me and all that lies ahead is four days in Paris, two in Norway and one spent sitting around the airport in London waiting for my connection. Yep, Norway. I found out on Thursday that I am now going to Norway for two days before I head back to Montreal.

I have almost reached the two week mark of my trip which is when I start to really wish that I am back at home instead on hanging out in some random hotel. For me 10 days is the perfect length for a business trip. Anything less than 7 days tends to be too hectic and more than two weeks is just too long. Anyhow, not much I can do about that now and actually, the Norway trip is actually quite welcome because it gives me somewhere brand new to look forward to.

But I’m supposed to be talking about Paris. I like Paris, it is easy to navigate,it is full of life, and I’m here for four days but only working for two and a half. This morning there’s a radio show on about elephant polo - in Thailand not under the eifel tower or anything but wouldn’t that be cool? A huge elephant polo match between the legs of the eifel tower? Way better than tight-rope walkers and the other extremely unoriginal things that usually surround Paris’ most famous landmark.

I wouldn’t want to live in Paris though - it’s too big, too noisy and the weather sucks.

Well, that’s all for now, we’re off to the market (with umbrellas cause the weather sucks remember)