It was when we first got off at the Metz train station that I knew it was going to be an adventure. The P.A. system continuously made announcements in French, but first played a jingle that sounded just like the beginning of "Crank That" by Soulja Boy. Getting off the train at first we thought they were playing that song, but to our dismay it was only the preview to some French jumble. Needless to say we still did a bit of the dance. From there we grabbed a map to find that we were on the southwestern most part of the city and our hostel was on the northeastern most part. "Fabulous!" we thought. We'll get to see the city and scope out where we would like to eat. Amazingly we stayed positive despite our 30 pound backpacks we were lugging around. Our good morale could be due to what we coined on this trip as "curiosity breaks". None of these failed us in the least. First there was the stop over at the bridge. Initially we gasped at the view of the prominent cathedral that divided the waterway, but then we looked down. Before this day I had seen two swans at most together at a time. On this afternoon I saw thirty or more gathered just below us. We rushed down the stairs to one of the most picturesque views of our lives. We were all about getting the swans in the foregrounds of our pictures with the beautiful cathedral behind it, but the swans were not all about our lack of bread in our hands. We promised them to come back to return the favor, but we sadly never did.
45 minutes later we made it to our hostel, which was not all that it was cracked up to be. When we first walked up I think we would have rather taken a Motel 6. I remember Katie saying, "No, no it'll be okay guys! I remember seeing on the site that it has been renovated on the inside." My thoughts were yes, but it the website also said that the hostel was located near the center of town, which was so far from the truth that it was humorous. Luckily Katie was right and the room was not all that awful. The showers, now that is another story.
We spoke with the nice gentleman at the counter and he gave us directions to the cathedral and off we went. We saw about 3 other cathedrals on our walk there. How could we have missed it and what made this one so special? After careening through the narrow roads for a bit everything opened up and there it was. In Rome there was the coliseum and the enormous administrative building in the center of the circle, but in Metz religion stood tall over all other sports and governmental facilities. It was probably around 6 o'clock when we wandered through the gigantic doors and we managed to have the whole place to ourselves. Looking back on it, it would have been nice to have a historical tour, but being able to look at each pane of stain glass slowly or read the description of each saint's plaque was an experience I'll never forget. Lizzie managed to take some pictures of Katie and I walking around to get a size comparison between the two. I felt so small.
We didn't want to leave the site, so we ate dinner at a restaurant on the fringe of the cathedral. We figured that we had had a long day and were deserving of a "girly" drink. Enough of that beer, we needed something sweet. The menu was in all French of course so when the waiter had come back for the second time I felt pressured to order and chose the Malibu. The other two girls followed. Never order a Malibu in France or probably in Europe for that matter. This is not Cheeseburger in Paradise where a Malibu may consist of some fun pink and orange and yellow colors. No, no, no, this was about 3 shots of Malibu in a whiskey class. Katie had a straight shot view of the bartender. With her head rested in the palm of her hand she said, "Oh geez, I hope he puts more than just Malibu Rum in there." I hadn't even thought of that. But why would that be a drink that sounds awful. Sure enough that is what it was. We starred at our drinks for about 5 minutes then flagged down the waiter and ordered 3 Cokes. It wasn't so bad after it was completely diluted.
If we didn't look like ignoramous Americans before we were targeted in our adventures afterwards. We heard some live music down the road and around the corner so we went to check it out. It was exactly how France was supposed to be. We sat outside on a little iron garden table surrounded by small groups of friends and ordered a wine. I'm not sure what genre the musician belonged in, but he was entertaining. There were soft love songs followed by quick-paced melodies all accompanied by a pianist. We observed the groups of people and it's really in those situations that you can see the culture differences. For instance, which of the 3 men at the table in front of us was dating the 1 woman? Or why when the musician sang to a table did the guests not pay any attention to him. The exact opposite happened in our situation. The owner of the bar came up behind us thinking that we were Czech, but after telling him that we don't speak French he went up to the singer, pointed at us, and said something about how we were Americans. I thought that would be the kiss of death in France, but the singer loved it and came as close as he could to sing to our table. Thank goodness for that microphone cord not being long enough. Had it been able to reach our table I do believe that our embarrassment would have reached its breaking point. We were not like the French table. Instead we giggled and laughed and got red in the face. Shortly afterwards we called it an evening much like I am going to do now. I will continue my travels through to Strausbourg hopefully tomorrow!
