Les Français Sont...

Have I told you yet about the best pick-up line I've ever heard?  Picture the scene: I was in Paris, obviously; it was March 2007, just before I met the guy who would eventually lead to my first move to London, around 10pm on a perfectly crisp and clear night and I was heading home to my apartment off the rue St. Michel from a rehearsal at St. Sulpice.  As I passed the Musée de Luxembourg, I smiled and nodded at a man crossing my path.  He stopped.

Excusez-moi, he said, mais vous êtes très jolie.  Voulez-vous dîner avec moi?

I was a bit surprised by his forwardness, but recovered well.  Je ne peux pas.  J'ai un petit ami.

Ah, he replied, not deterred by my fictional boyfriend.  Il est français?

Non, il est allemand.  (I have no idea where that came from, by the way.  I don't think I've ever dated a German.)

Dommage, said the Frenchman.  Les français sont magnifique à faire l'amour.

And with that startling pronouncement, he continued on his way.

personal photos taken 2007-2011

On that note, let me wish you a happy Bastille Day, mes amours!  I'll probably head to one of these parties this evening - whatever your plans may be, I hope that your weekend is filled with macarons, champagne, and love.  After all, les français sont magnifique à faire l'amour.  That's what I hear, at least!

translation:

Excuse me, but you are very pretty.  Will you have dinner with me?

I can't.  I have a boyfriend.

Ah.  Is he Fremch?

No, he is German.

Pity. The French are magnificent at making love.