Dr. Love Goes Down

Our dear roommate, tight end, and in-house unintentional comedic genius Cedric Charpilloz had a season-ending knee injury in the Flash's latest win. A tight, hard fought battle between France's two EFL Eurobowl teams, La Courneuve Flash and the Elancourt Templiers, the Flash prevailed 28-25. In the third quarter Cedric caught the ball on a crossing rout and was cut down from upfield by the Templiers cowardly safety. A cheap hit, it ended Cedric season with the Flash, and angered me. Cedric loves football, more than anyone else on the team, including me. It broke my heart to see it all end for him on that play. The Flash was struggling and losing at this point in the game, but we all pulled it together for Cedric and came out on top. Jeff and I were in no mood to celebrate the victory following the game and waited at the flat for Cedric to return from the hospital. The diagnosis was a partial tear of the PCL and a small fracture at the top his fibia. No surgery is required, but with the time needed to properly heal and rehabilate these kind of injuries, Cedric was surely finished playing tight end for the Flash this season. Jeff and I were already planning to go to Lausanne, (Cedric's hometown in Switzerland), the off- weekend following the game, but now we were going with him to help him get his things home. Doctor Love is definitely going to be missed by La Courneuve, and his two new American friends.

84-0, "Let them eat cake..." (Part III)

Finally in Part III of this epic blog I get to the game I intended to talk about. The Asnerie-sur-Seine Molosses are an across the town team in Paris, that was not expected to put up much of a fight, and they lived up to that.

From the get-go, the defense dominated the game returning a fumble and interception for scores in the first half, as well as forcing two other turnovers. Offensive we ran the ball all over them and even our 5th string running back scored a 60-yard TD. We have no reserve offensive lineman so I was forced to remain in the game for the duration.

The final was an 84-0 drubbing. We are now 3-0, but this was the first team performance of the year. Too bad it was not much of a nail-bitter for Victoria and my parents to watch, but a win is a win.

Cedric, Jeff, Victoria, and I all headed into the city after the game with my folks and grabbed a couple drinks at a touristy, over-priced bar near Norte Dame. All in all a good night.

Even though we stayed out late Victoria and I crawled out of bed Sunday morning to meet my parents infront of Sacre Coeur to spend the day exploring Montmarte.

I never get tired of walking around the Basilica, and the surrounding streets, although if one more starving artist stops me to as me if I want my likeness recorded by them on paper, I might break their fingers.

We stopped at Place du Tertre where my mother and Victoria did a bit of window-shopping. With its many artists setting up their easels each day for the tourists, the Place du Tertre is a reminder of the time when Montmartre was the mecca of modern art. At the beginning of the 20th century, many penniless painters including Picasso and Utrillo were living there.

After a banana and Nutella-filled crepe, we found 'Le mur des je t'aime' or 'the wall of I Love You's.' Written 1000 times in 300 different languages is the phrase 'I Love You,' along with this inscription.

"In a world marked by violence and dominated by individualism, walls, like frontiers, are usually made to divide and to separate people and to protect them from one another. On the contrary, The Wall is a link, a place of reconciliation, a mirror which reflects an image of love and peace."

We stopped to rest our weary feet, and quench a bit of thirst at the O'Sullivan's neighboring the Moulin Rouge. Then it was off to find dinner near the Bastille. The restaurant was another Rick Steve's selection and near the Bastille. Can't miss, right? Wrong.

We were the only customers in the entire restaurant, that should be a sign right? And I was pretty sure that our waitress was hammered. We kept hearing her drop and break things behind the bar. My lamb shank was cold on the inside, probably reheated. The only thing that saved the meal was my company and the quietly chuckling we did at our wasted server. I hope the poor woman did hurt herself further once we left. I guess Rick Steve's isn't perfect either.

84-0, "Let them eat cake..." (Part II)

My parents were to arrive in Paris on Wednesday, February 18th at Charles de Gaulle. My father had arranged a business trip that allowed him and my mother to make a holiday out of it, ... the first part being in Nice on the southern coast of France, and the end of it in Paris watching their son's American football team in La Courneuve.

Note on sight-seeing: With my parents and Victoria in town, the touristy bits swung into full effect, and this I did not all mind. It seems to me, when you live in Paris you tend not to go to many of the must-see places, but I guess that is what happens in any place you live. It is funny and weird to me, that the majority of the guys on my team have only seen a fraction of Paris the way I've seen it my first two months here. I am truly what I strive not to be, ... a tourist.

Wednesday, Victoria and I met my parents near Notre Dame, and climbed all 440 steps to the amazing views from the top of the south tower. We saw all of Paris from up here, as well Quasimodo's infamous bells.

The day's visits continued on to the Crypte Archeologique, which is the beneath the courtyard infront of the famous cathedral, and houses blocks of unearthed medieval buildings.

A block further west we visited the stunning La Sainte-Chapelle. It was built orginally to house the holy relics of the Royal Archives, most noteably Christ's Crown of Thorns. The most visually beautiful aspects of the chapel, and considered the best of their type in the world, are its stained glass.

Attached and surrounding La Sainte-Chapelle, is the Conciergerie. The Conciergerie is a former royal palace and prison. It is part of the larger complex known as the Palais de Justice, which is still used for judicial purposes.

Note on the Conciergerie: Hundreds of prisoners during the French Revolution were taken from La Conciergerie to be executed on the Guillotine at a number of locations around Paris. The most famous prisoners (and victims) included Queen Marie Antoinette, the poet André Chénier, Charlotte Corday, Madame Élisabeth, Madame du Barry and the Girondins, who were condemned by Georges Danton, who was in turn condemned by Robespierre, who was himself condemned and executed in a final bout of bloodletting. So, the gist of this place was a lot of people lost their heads so modern day Frenchmen and women can work 35 hours a week, and go on strike whenever they feel like it.

After quite a full morning, we met a co-worker of my father's, and native Parisian, Sophie Tacchi for lunch. Across from the Georges Pompidou Centre, at Cafe Beaubourg we had a bit of a pricey for lunch, but it was worth it. Lamb burger for lunch? Yes, please!

After lunch we explored the Pompidou Centre. Centre National d'Art et de Culture Georges Pompidou was the brainchild of President Georges Pompidou who wanted to create an original cultural institution in the heart of Paris completely focused on modern and contemporary creation, where the visual arts would rub shoulders with theatre, music, cinema, literature and the spoken word. 6 million people pass through the Centre Pompidou's doors each year, a total of over 190 million visitors in its 30 years of existence.

Note on the Pompidou Centre: The Pompidou Centre is an immense complex, that could be easily confused with a factory or power plant. The design of the Centre is inside out, meaning all functional structural elements of the building are on the exterior. This leaves wide-open corridors and exhibition space on the inside. Even the accoridion-esque escalator system runs along the exterior of the structure.

The musuem touring went into full gear from here on out. My father purchase a three-day All Access Musuem Pass and was determined to take full advantage of it. A short Metro trip and we arrived at my favorite museum in Paris.

The Musée d'Orsay is housed in the former railway station, the Gare d'Orsay. It holds mainly French art dating from 1848 to 1915, including paintings, sculptures, furniture, and photography, and is probably best known for its extensive collection of impressionist masterpieces by such painters such as Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Cezanne. The Impressionist wing was a bit crowded but it was amazing to get so close these masterpieces.

With the Orsay closing at 6, we then hopped over the Seine for a short stop in the Louvre Museum, which remained open until 9. Nearly 35,000 objects from the 6th millennium BC to the 19th century AD are exhibited over an area of 652,300 square feet. But the builiding itself is enough for a visit to the Louvre. We only stayed in the musuem for a short visit, because of everyones aching feet from walking all over Paris. It being my third visit, I gave my folks and Victoria an express tour of the Renaissance sculpture hall, keying on the Venus de Milo and Winged Victory of Samothrace.

Dinner was a guidebook selection of my father's, Cafe Du Marche, near the Effiel Tower. Cafe Du Marche was by far the most reasonably priced quality meal I've had out to eat in Paris (Thank You, Rick Steve's). Proving the fact the world is a tiny place, we ran into my teammate, Arna, and his wife at the cafe, and they invited us to see their apartment, directly behind the restaurant. Although very small, I stuck my head out the window and looked up to see the sparkling Tour d'Effiel. Perfect apartment.

Thinking we could make it to climb the Arc de Triomphe before it closed at 10, we all hopped on a bus and rode to the Champs-Elysees. Unfortunately, the last group was allowed to ascend the Arc at 9:30, so we were out of luck.

Note on the Arc: The Arc de Triomphe is a colossal structure, much grander than it appears in photos. It stands at the center of the Place Charles de Gaulle, also known as the Place de l'Étoile and meeting places of 12 avenues. Noteable for armies marching down and thru it, it symbolizing the conquering of Paris, as the Germans did twice in both World Wars, and then the Allies in return when liberating the city.

I am sorry for all this educational nonsense, I try to be more funny from here on out. Read on please.

84-0, "Let them eat cake..." (Part I)

"Let them eat cake..." is a translation of the French phrase "qu'ils mangent de la brioche." Mistakenly thought to be said by Marie Antoinette before the French Revolution broke, it was actually uttered 100 years before her by Marie-Therese, the wife of Louis XIV, the builder of Versailles and King accredited to moving the royal court from Paris. Le Flash played their third game of the season this week and we let our opponent "eat cake."

The Asniere-sur-Seine Molosses, (insert ironic name joke here), were the first team to contact me through my Europlayers.com profile, the same week I arrived back home from my summer in Helsinki. I was immediately interested, ... it was Paris. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for the Molosses, ... their coach or management never responeded to me.

Fast-forward three months, and fate led me to play for the La Courneuve Flash, an across-the-town semi-rival of the Molosses.

The week before the game Victoria and I spent the week before the game monument and musuem hopping. Tuesday we took the train out to Versailles, and met two women from Greensboro in a Starbucks. (That was the most American thing I have ever typed.)

Versailles was gorgeous, even in the dull, chilly February air. We audio-toured the Palace, and I attempted to read all the French-only descriptions and labels on all of the paintings of rich, dead guys wearing white-powdered wigs.

Note on Versailles: Louis XIV, the Sun King, was a master of garish detail. Great colonnaded rooms paved with marble. Bronze chimneypieces beneath ceilings so artistically painstaking it caused its unfortunate artist to commit suicide upon it's completion. (Francois La Moyne, exhausted by his task and suffering from depression, do so after finishing the world famous ceiling of the huge Salon d'Hercules. The Salon d'Hercules contains Veronese's Feast at the House of Simon which is 4.5 meters high by 9.7 meters long and kin to the Louvre's The Wedding at Cana, which dominates the wall opposite fan-favorite La Joconde, (or the Mona Lisa.)

Note on Veronese: The Wedding at Cana (housed by the Louvre) and Feast at the House of Simon by Veronese are massive in scale and detail, and you are overwhelmed looking at them. Veronese makes me feel as if I were reading a colossal 'Where's Waldo' book (personal childhood favorite.) If you remember these books, the artist placed dozens of small scenes within the one large spectacle. He was telling the story of tens of small characters, all within that one snapshot of action. Veronese makes me feel a bit like a child looking at that 'Where's Waldo' book. I am trying to find the meaning behind each of the character's actions within that one grande painting. I come away with a new story everytime I look at it.

The rest of the highlight of Versailles, were the 'The Hall of Mirrors.' The Hall of Mirrors is the central gallery of the Palace and is one of the most famous rooms in the world. The principal feature of this famous hall is the seventeen mirror-clad arches that reflect the seventeen arcaded windows that overlook the gardens. Each arch contains twenty-one mirrors with a total complement of 357 used in the decoration of the 'galerie des glaces,' or 'hall of mirrors.'

The gardens of Versailles are situated to the west of the palace, the gardens cover some 800 hectares of land, much of which is landscaped in the classic French Garden style perfected here by André Le Nôtre. In addition to the meticulous manicured lawns, parterres of blooming flowers, and sculptures are the fountains, which are located throughout the garden. Unfortunately for me, the gardens are not in bloom in February, and the fountains are shut off until the weather brings in the large tourist crowds. Despite this the grounds were breathtaking, and I look forward to returning when the weather improves.

To be continued shortly...

V-Day, ... And I Don't Mean Valentine's

Ahhh... Paris. What more idyllic Valentine's Day setting can you imagine?

Thousands flock the La Ville Lumiere for this card and candy holiday. But why? It's Februray. Every monument and museum is bursting with bundled lovers. Do you want to stand atop the Effiel Tower with -20 degree windchill gusts? Stroll the famous Jardins de Tuileries, seeing more keychain peddlers then flowers. The museums are teeming with Asians on holiday, taking photos of every one of the Lourve's 35,000 artifacts for their Hello Kitty scrapbook.

Sorry if I just shattered everyone's romantic vision of their future someday. But I am in Paris now, and have a girl on St. Valentine's Day. Not even I can screw this up. Or can I?

Victoria arrived in Paris, February 12th, a Friday. She is taking this semester off from school, to travel and study in her parents homeland of the Netherlands. She was coming to stay with me in Paris for a couple weeks to see the sights, and most importantly me.

After lugging are giant black and white polka-dotted luggage, back from CDG, (she said she packed light) I let her catch some sleep. The evening we just attempted to change some U.S. dollars, and catch a peak of Notre Dame under lights.

Sacre Coeur was the first stop on Saturday. The weather was mild, so the crowd was crazy. We ducked inside the Basilica and sat watched the security guard throw out couples for making out in the pews. What a horrible job. The poor guy looked like he needed a hug.

The street performers were out in full force. The "Roman statue" guy, was accompanied by, the "Indian statue" guy. Two other performers were doing some insanely difficult act using massive crystal balls (grow-up kids). Their stuff was tight and choreographed to dramatic music and were stealing the show from the "look how still I can stand" duo. We settled down on the steps and looked out over Paris, while listening to a French Brandon Flowers slaughter Bob Marley's "Revolution Song."

After "pied a promenez" through Montmartre, we stopped in front of the Moulin Rouge for the neccesary photo op, and then popped into the neighbor O'Sullivan's for a nip and pint. The Six Nations tournament was also invading Paris on the this holiday weekend, and Montmartre had been renamed 'Ecosse' or 'Scotland.' Luckily France had won the match earlier that day, and we hadn't entered the pub at it's peak hours.

The day ended with a stroll under la Tour d'Eiffel and I got a little present. Paris won the day, and I got to reap the rewards.

Sixty Million Frenchmen Can Play Football

The title of the blog is a knock on Jean-Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow's best-selling novel, "Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong." This past Saturday was the Flash's home opener at Stade Geo Andre. Our opponent was the Black Panthers of Thonon-les-Bains, a small Alpine town near the Swiss border. The Black Panthers were the 2nd best team in France last year according to my teammates, and known for their aggressiveness and athleticism. Note on American football in France: I came to France thinking American football here had to be of better quality, with better athletes then the football I played in Finland. Finland is a country of only 5.3 million people, and 8 teams. France has a population of over 65 million, and only 12 teams are in the country. Mathematically speaking, France should have a great number more athletes, participating in competitive sports, at a higher level of play. Logic aside, my assumptions are categorically inaccurate (SAT words). Thonon-les-Bains was dreadful. Any team I played against in Finland would have destroyed them. I think the Helsinki Rooster team I was apart of last year could handle any team in the French league, including my present club, La Courneuve Flash. The Flash is a club full of great guys, and has a great deal of athletes, but the lack of commitment and discipline in the programme is typical to the semi-pro level in the country. Most guys have full-time jobs as well as families, so football is no more than a hobby and not a high priority. It is not more than a 2/3 night-a-week commitment. The Black Panthers had a roster of less then 40 players, (jouers) and the majority of the team seemed to play on both sides of the ball. The defensive end I matched up against didn't break the 6-foot or 220-pound barriers. I almost felt bad for him during the match, and chose not to maul him in to the ground repeatedly. I guess I just have a big heart.

My team, the Flash, have a hard time lining up correctly on offense and defense. Luckily we overwhelmed our first two opponents solely with our size on offense. (I am the lightest linemen on the team at 260.) We managed to rolled over the Black Panthers on each over of our four drives, racking up over 240 yards rushing. I played just one series of defense in the first half, Coach Esume opting to "rest me if I wasn't needed" in the second half. This was disappointing. Note on playing defense: I've played offensive line for close to 10 years now, and at level of play here in Paris, I could do it with two broken arms. Playing defense is a unique challenge that brings it back to the high school days. Playing defense is the only way I remotely get a physical workout, as well as a mental challenge. Hopefully, I can talk my way into more time on that side of the ball. Our defense could have been Leesville High. Arm-tackling and missed responsibilities kept the game close and our offense off the field. The finally score did not reflect the dominating performance of the offense, and the visibly beaten Black Panthers. Final Score: La Courneuve Flash -21 Thonon-les-Bains Black Panthers - 14

The Saddest Super Bowl Party

It was Super Bowl Sunday in Paris, and I felt like being a good American. So I cooked meat and drank beer while watching the Cardinals get edged out by those damn Steelers. The game didn't start until midnight Paris time, so we had all day to rustle up some American-style foods. The best Jeff and I could do was BBQ chicken wings we bought from a Muslim boucherie in La Courneuve, and homemade bruschetta. I mention that the butcher was Muslim, because that was the name of the shop, Halal Musulmane Boucherie. I have no idea what Halal means, so let us learn together!

Note on Halal: Islam has laws regarding which foods can and cannot be eaten. In non-Arabic-speaking countries, the term is most commonly used in the narrower context of just Muslim dietary laws, especially where meat and poultry are concerned. A variety of substances are considered as harmful (haraam) for humans to consume and, therefore, forbidden as per various Quranic verses. These forbidden foods include, pork meat, blood, animals slaughtered in the name of anyone but Allah, carrion, "fanged beasts of prey" or all carnivorous animals except most fish and sea animals, the meat of donkeys, all insects except for locust, and alcohol and other intoxicants.

La Courneuve is mostly immigrant/ethnic so these boucherie obviously cater to that Muslim populace.

Anyways, we struggled to stay up for the entire game even though it was a great one. I am a little jealous of all the sweet parties I missed back at home, and being around true football fans.

I hope everyone was a little hung over for me.