Yesterday at the Fete de la Musique, while wandering the streets in the bastille area, we decided that kebabs were a must. I had a feeling street vendors were going to take over the streets that night, and I wasn't disappointed, because the best kebab I have had in Europe was triumphantly devoured last night. Although the ingredients were alright, it wasn't the flavor that made the kebab taste so good, it was the process. With everyone crowding around, I saunter up and exclaim, "Bonjour monsieur, Je prends une Kebab, poulet, s'il vous plait." He sets me up proper, I hand him my twenty euro bill, and he gives me three euros back...

"Excusez-moi, monsieur? J'ai bezoin a plus." (once again, I can't manage much more than baby talk.)

Here he begins this song and dance of arguing with my insufficient french, and handing me a euro every few sentences to try to shut me up. This situation was getting heated and there were raised voices, but I wasn't going to just let my self get swindled. After seeing that I wasn't going anywhere, his buddy standing right next to him, witnessing the whole situation, asked me what I needed in english. I tell him that I paid with a 20 and he only gave me 3 euros back, for a 5 euro sandwich." I successfully held my ground, because the guy reluctantly pulled out his roll of cash and gave me what I needed. His buddy, my original nemesis, was hiding behind the english speaking man pleading with several "Pardon!"'s. I walked away proud that I can see a swindle and deal with it properly if I need to. I'm gonna need to retain this skill and confidence to deal with Amsterdam and Marrakech.

In the end, I had a kebab garnished in triumph. Victory, and chicken, was mine...