World Cup and Bastille Day (Part Deux)

The day most people will recall Zinedine Zidane head butted the player from the Italian team with only a few minutes left in the game. I know I should remember the poor fool that was pounded by Zizou but I cannot recall without googling it. Anyway, in our house it is the day that will live in infamy! This was my first real World Cup experience and clearly I did not comprehend the importance of this game. I mean, I did see the TiVo was full of World Cup matches and Sebastien was adamant about not deleting them but I mean, seriously, it is just soccer. The mere fact that I would write such blasphemy could get me in some serious trouble but I need you to understand where I’m coming from.

The day started off beautifully. I had planned a wonderful three course meal which was a HUGE fete for me at the time and spent the entire day cooking. Sebastien was out most of the morning and came in as the game was starting. We had decided to have a picnic on the living room floor and watch the game. Visualize with me, my beautiful husband sitting in the middle of the living room wrapped in his French flag. Sort of like superman cloaked in frenchness.

I brought in the first course, brushetta. One of my favorites—unfortunately, this is an Italian dish which was met with a confused “Qu'est-ce que c'est”. My oblivious response “brushetta” then went in the kitchen to check on the caprese and lasagna. Now, you can see where this is going. The entire meal I had spent all day preparing was entirely Italian. The French hate the Italians on a good day and on this World Cup 2006 Final Match day I had done the unthinkable.

We did not eat. The crazy singing and chanting of “Allez les bleus” did not help the poor team and the Italians won. Then in order to understand the obsession with soccer in France I furthered my downward spiral of un-frenchness and said “it’s not that big of a deal”. As you can imagine Sebastien was not a fan of my commentary regarding the game, tossed a beer across the room which shattered all over the floor. Of course Sebastien’s recollection of this day is a bit more colorful. J And he will never let me forget how I ruined “our” chances of winning.

This brings me to Bastille Day 2008. I never forget this day because it is the day after Sebastien’s birthday. This year I hung the French flag outside of our house and even had Sebastien come outside for a commemorative photo to send to his family. I was redeeming myself and lack of frenchness. That is until we got to dinner. I was tired and preoccupied. I went to the kitchen and started the salad and vinaigrette. Sebastien came in and asked what we were having to celebrate Bastille Day. I pointed to a box of noodles on the counter. He laughed and said, “We cannot have Italian food today-it is Bastille Day”.

We had salad and fruit tarts and I have once again proven that I will never be French! :)

NOTE from Rachel - My crazy French football lunatic husband actually was in the ER the morning of the France vs. Italy World Cup Game writhing in pain from a migraine.  When the doctor came in and said he could give him a shot to alleviate the pain (keep in mind, he could not see out of his eyes and had to be in a dark room), he told him to wait and asked him if he could still drink beer because he was going to be watching the game in a few hours.  The doctor kindly told him that yes, it would "technically" be ok for him to drink a beer, but his recommendation would be to go home and get some rest.  Julien responded...."oh no, I can't do that!  France is playing in 2 hours!"  They (the French) = CRAZY!  Oh....and let's not forget the fact that he called his maman on the way to the hospital and told her about his migraine.  She asked to speak to me, and told me that I needed to make sure he went the hospital and that I was supposed to call her immediately afterwards and report back to her.  This strange relationship that exists between French boys and their "maman" will be covered extensively in future blogs!!