Parlez-vous Anglais?

So Johno was kicked out of his house for Saturday night so that the girls could have a Dirty Dancing Night, (No that doesn’t mean they hired strippers…..or does it?) see the girls blog. Quite happy with this we set about organizing a lad’s poker night…That was until we realized that France was only an hour or 2 drive away. So after pointing & laughing at the girls, we all jumped into the trusty Saab & headed off in a general Southwest direction in search for beaches, shenanigans & women with spiders trapped under their armpits.
As we got to Dover it started raining & it was not to stop until we got to Dover again 24 hours later.
We would have made it to France in ½ an hour if it wasn’t for a car load of Germans in front of us that didn’t understand how the 30sec process of paying money for goods & services worked. (In this incident a train ticket) They somehow managed to draw a financial operation that man has been doing since the time of the Greeks out to nearly 20 minutes while we sat behind them watching all the other queues dwindle & getting louder & louder in our dislike of being stationary.

On the Train under Several millions tons of water

We made it to France…Nice place, it looks like Kent, apart from they drive on the wrong side of the road & I can’t read the signs (Remind me again why I took 3^rd form Maori instead of French). La Touquet looked like a funky little village so we decided it was the lucky winner for billeting our sparkling personalities for the night.
Unfortunately it was a bank holiday in France making it nigh imposable to book 5 beds at 5pm Saturday evening. We were informed of this by a receptionist of one of the hotels who I think was trying to live up to all the negative stereotypes of ignorant French people. Luckily Aaron spotted a hostel just as we were scoping out dry doorways we could use for the night & although she said the 5 man standing in her lobby wearing hoodies made her nervous she did offer us a couple of fine fine rooms.
Unfortunately by the time we were ready to go investigate the town the sun had almost set so we had to settle for investigating the local restaurants & nightclubs. No one else wanted escargot & I wasn’t about to pay €25 for 12 shriveled snails….Next time I promise. Although I did have a pot of garlic mussels that could hold their head high next to the Kaitaia mussels from the Grey Lynn festival, (the mussels by which all others are judged!) even if they were marginally bigger than pipis.

I would just like to point out that I was doing the guns not the fingers

After knocking back a ‘le giraffe’ with our meal which is a massive beer – About 4 jugs – with a tap on the bottom for easier drinking…If you ask me it looked like a giant bong from my Uni days. We then strolled to a funky wee bar for some foosball & more beers but after our massive dinners sitting down was just putting us to sleep. So after some fairly direct questions to one of the bar staff, we learnt where the real nightlife was & toddled off in that direction. The club we found ourselves in seemed quite cool, they defiantly poured a good Vodka/Lemonade but no one was dancing normally, they were all salsa dancing…strange.
That was pretty much it for the night & the weekend, big ups to Chris for the driving…especially Sunday morning when we were all zombies. Also cheers to Dave for remembering to actually use his camera.