Notes from UNESCO:
I’m starting to settle into my fellowship at UNESCO.
My position is under the Department of Information with a focus in Strategic Web Content. My supervisor Matthieu Guervel use to be the speechwriter for the former Director-General. I’m excited to be mentored and advised by him.
From time to time, I receive emails written in French. I instantly feel like Little Orphan Annie using her decoder ring to reveal the message.
Giddy with anticipation, I copy and paste the message into Google Translate, hit enter, and wait.
“The copier is out of ink, please use UNESCO2-3LCSU.”
Well, I guess every message can’t be groundbreaking.
On another note, I’ve been provided the opportunity to write a feature story about a female reggae singer who worked with UNESCO on producing a song that encourages Malawi women to pursue technical skill training.
The song won some international awards and was one of the top five songs of the year in Malawi.
I’m hoping they let me interview the artists and staff involved with the project to make the story come alive.
I just pitched my idea but haven’t heard back yet. Cross your fingers.
Notes from the field:
Before coming to France people tell you about all the delicious food and insist that you’re going to be coming back a little plumper but happier for it.
But what happened last night, while eating out at a local French restaurant was horrifying.
A group of us set off to find food. After watching Paris Saint-Germain obliterate their opponent 9-0. I guess the mercy rule doesn’t apply in the French soccer league.
We found a cute place with red and white checkered tablecloths and an indoor-outdoor ambiance without having to sit in the smoke-filled inclosed sidewalk portion of the restaurant.
We stripped off all our layers, happy to be warm after sitting in 30-degree weather for a couple of hours. Finally nustled in, we ordered a round of drinks and started to examine the menu.
My wife and I decided to split a steak and fries and our guest ordered something called Andouillette AAAAA sausage, which she determined was going to be bangers and mash.
We sipped our beverage, revisiting the highs and lows of the game. It was our first live European match.
Our food arrived, the steak was perfectly cooked, medium rare.
I started to cut into the steak, cutting little pieces to share with my wife, eating a couple along the way. When suddenly my nose was overtaken by a repulsive smell.
I looked up to survey the source and caught the eyes of our guest. She’d just cut into her sausage, excited to finally be eating bangers and mash. Hoping to re-live fond memories from a summer spent in Dublin.
Looking distressed she continued to cut into her sausage, trying to understand. The plump sausage burst with entrails, resembling a snake giving birth.
The source of the smell was permeating from the birthing sausage. So rudely pulsating through my nose. The more she cut the worse the smell.
Finally, she stopped and announced that her sausage was packed full of small and large intestines.
She quickly, Googled her phone and determined that she had indeed ordered bangers and mash but her banger wasn’t of the normal variety.
Andouillette sausage is served almost exclusively in France and is described as having the same foul-smell of the sewage it once transported. Apparently, consumed by the devoted fan.
These fans have a grading system issued by a group called the Association Amicale des Amateurs d’Andouillette Authentique (AAAAA). Or what my guest described as, “A bunch of old lying uncles that aren’t right.”
Refusing to give in she ate the mash potatoes, trying to ward off bouts of nausea. We pleaded for her to send it back. Having a hard-time eating our own food.
But, she felt like this might just be a cruel game of cat and mouse. That the French were only serving this dish to stupid uninformed American’s. So she dug-in and finished the potatoes. We tossed her a couple of pieces of steak, some lost in the struggle, landing to close to the death sausage.
We left the restaurant, wondering why anyone would want to serve such a foul-smelling dish.
The next morning we relived the sausage story, laughing about weird travel food stories. Ryann and I talked about eating a country rat in Vietnam, spoiler alert it’s really good. Colleen raved about all the good food she had in India.
The night before the death sausage, Ryann had her first steak tartar, which is raw ground beef served with a raw egg in the center. Ryann said it tasted rich like a bowl of ice cream.
All of these experiences is why I love traveling. But maybe next time, don’t order something created during the medieval ages. Did anything good come from that time period?
Well, I love chatting but it’s time to explore!
Au revoir,
Ms. Hardin
