Oysters

If you didn't already know this, I have a horrible horrible episodic and auditory memory.  If I hear something, or if I am involved in whatever it is, I will not remember it.

If you want me to remember something, you have to write it down.  [please take a moment to write your name down and mail it to France--just in case I forget your name while I'm gone]

With that disclaimer:  I will now begin to attempt to recount my week beginning on Sunday.

Saturday night after the game and things, I was invited to go with some other people to taste oysters on Sunday at 11.

I met up with everybody, in total about 7 people, and we went to the Sunday market down the street (a ways) from me.  A couple people had tried them before, along with the Spanish guy who would eat oysters for breakfast every day if it was possible I think.  The two men bought the oysters, and then we had the woman open them for us and bought a lemon.  In total, I paid 2 euros for my share of the 18 oysters, the lemon, and the baguette that we bought later on.

I had no idea that oysters are alive until you eat them, so I was kind of sketched out that we were buying them raw.  I thought maybe you cooked them like mussels?  But, no.

You use the top part to scrape the poor guy's muscles out of his shell, and then you drip lemon on him and eat him.  It looks weird and tastes weird and I'm not a super big fan.  I ate two of them.  They really just taste like salt and one of them had sand inside and it felt weird and gritty.

We stood around eating these oysters for probably an hour or more, and then we walked a little ways to the flea market.  We walked around that, and then went to get ice cream over near the Quai.

The ice cream was really super tasty, but I left with two other girls to go home instead of going to the park.

I don't know what I did for the rest of the day.