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This post is mainly in english, because I owe you that, dear readers from places where you don’t speak french.
I’ll speak about my brief stay in a country where they speak english : the United States of America, or, “America” for short, or “Estadunidos de Gringolandia” on the other side of the border (the big one, where they speak Spanish on the other side (well, they speak mainly Spanish on both sides now so yeah, you know which one))
Dear readers from places where you’re in America but not in the United States (like, South America, Central America or Canadia (don’t interrupt me! if you’re Canadians you come from Canadia!)), please refrain from sending me insults and death threats in your own quaint language, I know that Argentina or Québec belong to America as much as the Estadunidos and the Big Mac. But people say America to speak about the land of hope and dreams, and well, a remarkable twist of linguistics caused the meaning of “land of hope and dreams” to become “the United States of America” even though the correlation between hopes, dreams and the United States has been disproved by a team of british scientists in late 1929.
Anyway, as they say back there, I went to the Land Of The Free (not speaking about the one black man out of ten who’s in prison right now) Home Of The Braves (speaking of the illegal immigrants who braved the desert and the coyotes for the right to pursue happiness and racial profiling on the other side of the Rio Grande), for one week.
I should stop with these parenthesises’s. Some people might notice the way I use them to insert witty comments about the United States, and they might think I’m anti-American and that, because I’m French, I’m basically against everything the USA stands for, like truck nutz and Britney’s thong or lack of, I don’t really know because I don’t really care. It’s completely false that I hate the USA, I even have some good friends from there. What? Not convincing? Come one dude! I love American culture, but I kind of prefer American counter-culture.
And what better place to see counter-culture than the campus of UC Berkeley? Instead of being hosted in a frat house, the kind you see in the movies, with a dead naked cheerleader in the pool, I was hosted in a geeky frat house, where they have the whole run of Star Trek The Next Generation in VHS. There’s lots of hippies in the streets and people are nice and offer LSD for free (I didn’t do LSD, mommy) and there’s even commies, students from South America who like the Che, Chinese students, big houses with lotsa nice artists who love girls and guys, and you have parties where you can drink and sing a song or tell a story and people are nice and you can walz with girls and put stars in their eyes if your’e one of these dreamy european guys the kind they read about in the books about how everything’s better in Europe (except it’s not really true).
So yeah, I had a good time there thanks to a tiny vietnamese girl who’ll be marrying a tall swedish guy in the Fall and who takes pictures, and their friends who share the house and who are all a bunch of nice people. Some nights out with them involved drinking copious amounts of alcohol, some other nights involved slightly less alcohol, and some nights were just, well, sober. With these new friends I went to San Francisco and they gave me a big great old tour of the Golden Gate Park and we saw the buffaloes and some bear-wolf-dogs, but I also went to the hills behind Berkeley to see the sun set over the Golden Gate Bridge, and there was this museum and there was also all these skyscapers, and of course the hills with the little wooden houses and the place where hippiedom was born but is now dead, and, well, everywhere and it was nice. Especially In N Out Burgers, the BESTEST BURGERS IN THE WHOLE WORLD (and the special combo for the fries… hehehe)
But well, I don’t really give justice to what happened, I guess you had to be there.
Also, I bought me a new hat, and it performs its functions quite well, thank you very much.
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