Jill ne sais quoi

Today we woke up late and hung around until finally exploring our neighborhood a bit more and finding a place to eat. Turns out we chose the wrong place, and ended up sitting next to these sketchy (and old!) French men who asked us for our numbers and who tried to buy us drinks and lottery tickets. They were playing what I can only imagine is the French equivalent of Keno, and they tried to get us to play, but we (very politely) refused. And then ran away as fast as possible.

I then went downtown to meet Anna, who was going on a tour of old buildings in Grenoble. The buildings were cool, but the tour guide was very old and spoke very softly and I couldn't hear what he was saying half the time. Some of the buildings here date back to the 300s, but most of the ones we saw today date back to the 16th and 17th centuries.

After this, I bought some books that I need for class, and then met Monica and Sam at the mall a little ways away on the tram. It's really big, but most of the stores are too expensive to actually shop in. But halfway through our shopping excursion, I felt the blood sugar drop and so went into the McDonalds thinking I could quickly grab some french fries and be good to go.

However, it is clear that in France, even "fast food" must be an ordeal. I stood in line for 20 minutes (10 of those minutes were waiting for the same woman to 1. decide what she wanted, 2. order, 3. change her order 4. hand the cashier the wrong change, 5. fumble in her purse for the correct change, 6. hand the cashier the correct change 7. wait for her HUGE tray of food.

So, this woman FINALLY goes away and there's one couple in front of me, so I'm almost there-- they seem reasonably competent and the food is being assembled quickly. And then I feel someone next to me. "Oh absolutely not!" I think to myself, because I know the French have an issue with lines (i.e. they do not think they need to follow them, they feel that they can just cut in front of you whenever), and so I turn to see who is touching me. It's this young woman with this, like, I'm-so-much-better-than-you smile on her face, and she asks me something, but I'm so surprised that she's not trying to cut me, that I don't understand.

"Comment?" I ask.

"Can my friend and I get in front of you? She's pregnant," she asks me, in all seriousness.

I am flabbergasted. Really? Since when does being pregnant mean that you are allowed to cut to the front of the line at McDonalds? Should you even be eating McDonalds if you are pregnant? And if you are seriously asking me this, shouldn't you be a little nicer?

"Comment?" I ask again.

"Parlez-vous francais?" she asks.

"Non, non..." I say, and the girl immediately leaves and goes back to her friend, where I can hear them laughing.

By this time, the couple in front of me has gone and I am able to order my medium fries. The cashier laughs a little.

"You've waited a long time just for a medium fry."

"I know, " I say, in French, hoping the girl with the pregnant friend doesn't hear me.

When I get my fries (two milliseconds later!), I turn and start to leave, and I see the pregnant friend, who is seriously 2 people behind me in line. 2 people! I'm so over it. If her friend was so concerned, why didn't she just order for the both of them, and let her friend sit down in one of the booths? Seriously. I do not understand.

After the mall we came back here and watched a French movie called Les Choristes. It was wonderful. Absolutely magnificent. Here is the English trailer for you to watch. I 100% recommend this film, to all of you. Super super good.