Junior year in Paris: I was bloated from eating too many banana/nutella crepes, lovelorn (see above for bloat, and I didn’t find Frenchmen sexy, with their small, pointy shoes) and I had just gotten a B minus on my paper on Simone de Beauvoir’s THE SECOND SEX–a paper I thought was a masterpiece (hah!) I was about to leave Paris to travel around Europe with a good friend, no money and a Eurail pass…We celebrated our departure at a dark, narrow bar. I drank red wine. Beer. Lots of it. I got belligerent. In America, I was not the belligerent type, but abroad, I was. At one point, the bartender told me (in French–they finally spoke French to me those last weeks in Paris) to calm down. I took a gulp of beer, swished it around my mouth, puffed out my cheeks, and spat in his face. He told me to get the hell out of his bar (and some other stuff I couldn’t understand). And then I saw it–the glittering disco ball above the bar. I couldn’t resist a parting shot. I jumped up and pretended to spike the disco ball (which I pretended was a volleyball). I never saw what happened to the swinging ball, as I was escorted out of the bar–the Ugly American, on her last night in Paris.
Most of my foreign drinking stories take place in France, where I spent many months studying and working (and drinking) at different times of my life. After my sophomore year in college, i spent a summer studying in the city of Avignon and living with a family. Despite the rigorous french studies, when class let out at 12 each day, my friends and i dropped our books and ran straight to the market to buy lunch before it closed. Along with the simple pleasures of bread, cheese and fruit, we’d buy the cheapest (maybe 3 bucks) local red wine and head to the gardens of the Pope’s palace for our daily picnic. We’d drink straight from the bottle, slowly forgetting about the French semiotics and politics we’d just had to listen to for three hours, growing sillier and giddier in the land of the good life. Once the bottle(s) were empty, we’d play baseball using the bottle as the bat and the cork as the ball. There was studying to be done every afternoon, but mine had to wait until after dinner, once i’d sobered up and had a full stomach. Cheap wine and friends–life was simple back then.
We drink for different reasons: to quench thirst, to loosen up, because it tastes good, to enhance a meal, because we're addicted, as part of a ceremony, to celebrate, to mourn. We drink when we're happy. We drink when we're sad. And then there are the non-drinkers, for whom abstaining may be as much of an issue as drinking.
This is a place where women can spill their drinking stories--from lamp-swinging hilarity to bottle-under-the-bed despair. At DRINKING DIARIES, you will read, and be able to share the details, the deep questions, the wide and wild range of experiences that pertain to women and alcohol.
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Caren Osten Gerszberg, Drinking Diaries co-founder, is interviewed as part of a discussion on women and drinking.
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We invite you to share your drinking stories. Perhaps one of the essays we posted has inspired you, or maybe you have your own story to share. Please try to keep your stories short (under 500 words if possible), and it works well if you stick to one topic or theme, but feel free to write what you want. You can e-mail us at drinkingdiaries@gmail.com.
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Junior year in Paris: I was bloated from eating too many banana/nutella crepes, lovelorn (see above for bloat, and I didn’t find Frenchmen sexy, with their small, pointy shoes) and I had just gotten a B minus on my paper on Simone de Beauvoir’s THE SECOND SEX–a paper I thought was a masterpiece (hah!) I was about to leave Paris to travel around Europe with a good friend, no money and a Eurail pass…We celebrated our departure at a dark, narrow bar. I drank red wine. Beer. Lots of it. I got belligerent. In America, I was not the belligerent type, but abroad, I was. At one point, the bartender told me (in French–they finally spoke French to me those last weeks in Paris) to calm down. I took a gulp of beer, swished it around my mouth, puffed out my cheeks, and spat in his face. He told me to get the hell out of his bar (and some other stuff I couldn’t understand). And then I saw it–the glittering disco ball above the bar. I couldn’t resist a parting shot. I jumped up and pretended to spike the disco ball (which I pretended was a volleyball). I never saw what happened to the swinging ball, as I was escorted out of the bar–the Ugly American, on her last night in Paris.
Most of my foreign drinking stories take place in France, where I spent many months studying and working (and drinking) at different times of my life. After my sophomore year in college, i spent a summer studying in the city of Avignon and living with a family. Despite the rigorous french studies, when class let out at 12 each day, my friends and i dropped our books and ran straight to the market to buy lunch before it closed. Along with the simple pleasures of bread, cheese and fruit, we’d buy the cheapest (maybe 3 bucks) local red wine and head to the gardens of the Pope’s palace for our daily picnic. We’d drink straight from the bottle, slowly forgetting about the French semiotics and politics we’d just had to listen to for three hours, growing sillier and giddier in the land of the good life. Once the bottle(s) were empty, we’d play baseball using the bottle as the bat and the cork as the ball. There was studying to be done every afternoon, but mine had to wait until after dinner, once i’d sobered up and had a full stomach. Cheap wine and friends–life was simple back then.