Ok, so it’s been way too long since I’ve written, over two weeks, I know. But all is not lost from this week and a half: I’ve been keeping notes of memories and events I don’t want to forget. So I’ll work off of those. But it’s a slow process catching up…
Wednesday June 24:
Ingrid brought a homemade apple tart because it was her birthday. Spirits were really high among “the girls,” as some of the instructors (who don’t actually have desks/offices at ICB’s office) call the ladies that work at ICB (it’s mostly ladies, except for me and another who aren’t administrators). They were very talkative and sexual. They started out just talking about finding a man for Ingrid, who I think just turned 24 or 25. Then one lady offered to buy her a gigolo for the night, then they moved on to the male instructors they thought were attractive (specifically which ones they’d like to receive lap dances from). By the end of the lunch hour, just Messad and I were in the Lounge cleaning up our things and she said to me, “I hope you weren’t too shocked.” I replied, “No, you’re human.” She agreed that’s it’s good to talk about those things.
Later on that day I moved desks, from my upstairs location to being at the front desk (really at one of two desks at the entry). Mr. Wrobley had me do this because one of the two ladies (Elodie) at the entrance is on vacation for 2 weeks, and he didn’t want the other (Adeline) to be alone. So for the time being I have a new desk, which I like more because it’s much cooler on the first floor than on the third, where I was before. And it’s getting hot here in Paris! I couldn’t tell you exact degrees, but since I sweat easily and air conditioning is rare, I’m almost always sweating.
Anyway, while walking to the Metro from office that evening, I walked past a store that was being renovated or at least there was construction there. And while I was walking past that evening, I saw some bizarre construction (destruction is more accurate) techniques. Workmen were taking shovels and sledgehammers to the windows! They were actually hacking at the glass with the shovels and pounding the windows with sledgehammers. Seemed like a very dubious window-removal technique to me; I thought it was funny.
That night I ate at a delicious restaurant very near where I live called Le Relais de Venise. It’s unique in that the café serves only one dish: “entrecote” in French, which is like flank steak I think, and fries. So when the waitress comes to take your order, you tell her what you want to drink (wine, of course!) and how you want your entrecote cooked. Then she brings you a small salad with walnuts, and after a bit you’re entrecote and fries come. Each night the entrecote comes with a different sauce, and that night it was a green sauce of some sort that was delicious. After your finish your plate of entrecote and fresh fries, you’re served seconds of entrecote and fries. They you get to choose again: your dessert. I had profiteroles (ice cream puffs) smothered in a dark chocolate sauce. A heavenly desert to close a delectable meal.
During my dinner, there was a family of Americans at the table beside mine. It was a grandmother and grandfather and their grandson (probably about 12) and granddaughter (between 16 and 18). They stand out in my memory because the grandpa was so funny. He would speak to the waitresses in either an completely ruined French or in Spanish just to frustrate them (and these waitresses are all about efficiency and control over their tables). He told his grand son he’d pay him $5 million if he could make a waitress smile. So his grandson asked for the check in battered French sort of with a Texan accent, and the waitress cracked a smile. The grandpa was delighted and couldn’t believe she smiled. And beyond wishing one of the waitresses good evening in Spanish, I can’t remember what else precisely he did that was so funny. I just remember he kept making a joke out of everything or telling a silly story.
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