Oxford-->Paris-->Oxford-->London

I received a trip to Europe from my parents as a gift for my birthday and for Christmas (among other things..they were quite generous).

The journey begins in Oxford, where I spend my first night. Cousin Laura goes to Oxford University for her study abroad this year and lives in a dormitory very near the center of town, on Ferrypool Road. That night, we go out to dinner at a Thai place in the city center where I am given a pile of chicken meat with virtually no vegetables. Woe is me. That's one thing I've discovered in my time here: Europeans are not so big on colorful, fresh vegeables. Which is the major portion of my diet in New York so I often feel quite restricted.

We then venture to a pub called te Three Goat Heads. My first English pub! In Oxford! I was revelling in the quintessential academic feel of the evening. At the pub, I am told to order cider, as it is what the pub, and all pubs, are known for. It's a very sweet beverage, something that I don't like very much in an alcoholic drink. Or in coffee. Or any type of drink, really. But I drink it for the experience and afterwards move on to my standard vodka soda. I notice at the table next to us that a group of guys are playing some sort of billiard game and they are quite rowdy. Looks fun. So I ask them what they're playing, hoping for an invite into the ruckus, which I do receive. The game is pucket, a table game which consists of six pucks on either side of the boar and an elastic band, used for launching the pucks through a small opening into the other player's side of the court. The objective is to be the first one to have no pucks on their side. The game begins with high fives between the two players while looking each other in the eye. This, I've discovered, is also required for toasting drinks. Needless to say, I lacked talent at this particular board game and was embarassingly defeated by all of my English gentlemen oppononents in a matter of seconds. The tables turned when I got to face my own American friends.

After the pub, we walked to a dance club where Laura and I remained for the rest of the night. When trying to get the bartender's attention, I said a friendly "hey!" to which she responded with "Don't "hey!" me! You don't "hey!" me!" Ooops...? This would occur again when I committed the same faux pas at a French bar and was responded to with "You say "excusez moi!"" I never learn.

The next day we had to get up very early to make our morning flight from Heathrow to Charles de Gaulle. We arrived in Paris in the afternoon and proceeded to our hostel. When we finally got there, after hauling multiple pieces of baggage through the metro system, the extremely flustered and nervous concierge boy informed us that he was very sorry, but there had been a mistake. There was actually no availability that night. Thankfully, he had been able to set us up in another hotel for the same price. The pain was that we had to go to a completely different location which ended up being pretty out of the way, in Vincennes. But the hotel was nice, decorated in a provincial French cottage sort of way with free continental breakfast and a comfortable bed.

On the first day, we checked into the hotel, went to Uncle Duncan and Aunt Nancy's for dinner, then proceeded with our New Year's Eve celebrations with Cousin Olivia, Cousin Sebastian, Cousin David, David's girlfriend Dareen, and a couple of Olivia's friends. We powerwalked to the Pont de l'Archeveche to view the fireworks from the Eiffel Tower. Only there weren't any fireworks this year. Only sparkling lights. Wop woppp. Sebastian, Laura and I proceeded across the bridge and became separated from David, Dareen and Olivia so we decided to go to the Canadian bar we thought they were planning on going to, The Moose. We arrived there and after about 15-20 minutes realized they weren't coming. Faceook came in handy for contacting Olivia who informed me they had gone to ANOTHER Canadian bar, The Great Canadian Pub. We spent most of the night there drinking. On the way out I met Michele, an Italian living in Paris who Laura and I would meet up with later in the trip. We spent about two hours wandering throughout the city, stopping for cigarettes down by the Seine and eventually ending up in a restaurant, Au Pied de Cochon, which was the only thing open late and a restaurant that I would find out later was frequented by many of my relatives decades before me, including my grandparents and my great aunt.