Super-Duper Wacky n' Tacky Euro Adventure

Today Parisians old and young welcomed back the return of the soleil that has so menacingly been absent for at least the past two weeks. It's not pariticularly hot. And the clouds don't always let him come through. But it's enough to send this melatonin-deprived Mexican to the tiny outside section of his favorite Parisian cafe: Malongo. I can barely see my computer screen, but it's worth it. Gives me more time to kick back, sip on my espresso, and soak in the occasional rays.
Yesterday the weather wasn't cooperating nearly as much, but Johnny, Devin, and I decided to head to the northern outskirts of the city to see if we could grab some cheap scalped tickets to the France v. Mexico friendly. A quick chat with the not-so-friendly scalpers here in Paris revealed that the tickets weren't exactly in our price range. So we decided to accompany a group of about 50 similarly financially-challenged fans at a bar outside the Stade de France to watch the game on a big screen. The game winner was scored by France in the one minute of stoppage time after the first half and the rest was a defensive clinic on how to hold on to a tight lead. Naturally me and all the other Mexicans who hopped the continent just to see the game (yeah right!) were a little bit dissapointed, but those Frenchies really know how to guard that goal. Luckily most of the French fans were very respectful and I had a chance to chat with a few after the game as I was walking around town with one of the loudest shirts ever created: the Mexican jersey from the 2002 world cup. We all agreed that it was a typical friendly and the real action would come world cup time. The only sore-winners seemed to be this group of drunken revelers who invaded our bar and seemed to have very non-French accents. Trying to be as least racist here as possible, but those trying to be real French hooligans should really have a proper grasp on the language before they start trying to pick fights. Even the French guys we were sitting with (obviously recent immigrants themselves but much more respectful) agreed that those kids were simply "culeros," and joined in our chants appropriately.
After the game I joined various groups of Irish, Mexican, Venezuelan, and American kids for bar-hopping around the city. The birds greeted me and the sun as I came home this morning to my sweet bed which seems to only get more comfortable the later I return home.
Mucho working today except for this quick entry. But I thought I should record the memories before they leave. World Cup coming soooooon!