Right ... I guess I'm back. If I HAVE to. Sigh. Today has been one of those annoying days filled with responding to emails and setting up meetings, sending out resumes, and putting things in my Outlook calendar. And at some point I will have to go grocery shopping and return my overdue library book. And then of course, I will finally have to get down to the business of writing my essays and beginning preparation for exams.
But, anyway, Europe!! Was awesome. I loved it and wish to move to France post haste and eat crepes with Nutella all day long.
However, there was one dark note to the trip, and by dark note I mean incredibly embarrassing for me, but probably more amusing for you.
On the train from Brussels to Paris I was interrogated by French customs officials who must have suspected that my innocent looks belied a true identity as a drug dealer ... or else they were reverse discriminating against people who actually speak French for ease of interrogation. Or something.
So, one of them asked me question after question while the other two ransacked my luggage (and seriously, if you are going to go through someone's suitcase, isn't it just polite not to pull things out, and then shove them back in? Shouldn't you make some attempt to fold stuff up a little nicely?)
I was mostly paying attention to my interrogator as my French, while passable, is not brilliant. Until I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the ransackers had pulled out my diva cup that I had wrapped in some tissue paper to dry .
"Oh ... crap," I thought as the two ransackers looked at the cup suspiciously, peeling back tissue paper layers to see what was inside. "How am I going to explain what the hell a DIVA CUP is in
French?" I had a feeling that "tasse de Diva" was really not going to cut it.
"C'est un produit feminine," I stammered, cheeks flushing, wishing they would just leave it the frack aside.
"Ah," they said to each other, but this did not stop them from their inspection. I suddenly wondered if I would be asked to explain exactly how this "produit feminine" worked, which, you all know that I have no shame discussing on the internets, but would really prefer not to explain to three French cutoms officials for various reasons I'm sure you'll understand, the least of which is that I really don't know enough of the relevant French. Some how, the word 'carcinogenic' appeared on my French 5 exam, but not 'hippie menstruation device.' Guess how many times I've had to use the word carcinogenic in French?
In the end, they decided that there were no drugs in my diva cup and put it back and the interrogation ended. "Vous parlez bien francais," they told me.
"Merci," I said gladly escaping to my seat. Luckily the remainder of my journey passed without incident. I never knew that traveling while being a hippie could be such a danger.
1 year ago