Aaaah the untranslatable insatiable French

A couple of weeks ago i was doing some shopping (as one does when the fridge is empty) at our local supersized grocery store and there it was. The leaflets they give out to entice their clientele to spend on the specials.
You must understand - in an effort to pretext- that the French are very traditional with their specialties; not shocking i understand. However, they have a tradition for "fois gras" every Christmas. Whether it be cooked, raw, on fancy toasted little rounded breads, in a spreadable form, with or without figs, before or at the main course; the French love their "fois gras".

I'll drink the champage or Montbazillac that it's usually served with - but non merci - je n'aime pas le fois gras.

Directly translated "fois gras" means fat liver.
Try to imagine; yuummmm, a piece of a goose's liver that has turned to fat because it's been force fed for many many months, on a piece of pretty round toast.
To me, this is not heaven. And in all fairness i've tried to like it but my tastebuds just won't give in. They say no. But, pass the champagne will you?

So, as the holiday season approaches, and the ducks and geese get more and more nervous, the grocery store appropriately has a "Foire au Gras"

Again, litterally translated doesn't really do justice to all that it implies in France.
It means "A Festival of Fat"

Dare I even say that this phrase would never, ever, never adorn the circulars of supermarkets in the States? When I hear 'A Festival of Fat' (in english of coure) I imagine a striped circus big top, with many many badly dressed over-fat clowns.

Mais à la française -


Note - the image you see isn't a raw chicken ; it is in fact an entire raw goose liver (a huge hunk of fat) shaped like a small chicken.
shocking non?

Their days are numbered now....

I can't even express how happy I will be 365 days and four weeks from now.

I will be able to go out anywhere, and not come home reeking and stinking of an ashtray.
I will be able to go out to bars and see the majority of my friends 'suffer' through a night with no cancer sticks.
I will be able to wake up the next morning after a good friendly night of boozing and not have gross black snots and swollen sinuses.
I will be able to say with a smile, sure we can go there, even though it's a cafe only big enough for ten; whereas before I and some other random poor un-hip person (probably already suffering from cancer) would be the only ones not pretending to be chimneys.
I will not even have to think about where I want to eat or not eat because of the fidelity or not to a smoking section.
I will enjoy every single drink and evening out.
I will love to see people banished outside.
I will love to see them shivering outside in the winter months but unable to resist the inhilation and drug rush.
I will love having agreable air to breathe, anywhere and everywhere i go.

I still have a year to endure. But in a year's time the light at the end of the tunnel will not have smoke curling up and around in it.

And I love being able to say to smokers, well, soon it'll be over huh?

And really, if Ireland, England and Italy can do it. Surely the French can follow suit.
and they will. January 1st 2008.