Paris GOURMAND

25 November 2002 Lundi

Aviatic 12:15 am

^Gourmand^

So Yesterday was about spending on food and provisions in a wanton way.  I had gone two days, ostensibly, without eating, due mainly to having 3 flights to get to Paris.  Food and flight do not mix for me.  Setting out from my hotel (if you want to call it that—it’s more like a place where old, broke men go to die in Paris)  I bought caviar-de-aubergines, a sweet paste of roasted eggplant drenched in olive oil at an Italian deli in St. Michel and a kilo of clementines (of which I have just eaten 3) which are laying in a plastic box on my desk.  I sat down to a lunch of assorted brochette, miso soup and fried fish at a Chinese restaurant masked as 'Wasabi Sushi' again near St. Michel.  On the way back for a mere 2E I got a Nutella crepe, and I will remember this place, as the crepes are costly in some places--4 or 5E...the closer you are to the uni near Metro stop at St. Michel.

So I came home for awhile, slept, listened to some music, read a bit, and decided at 11 or so to head back out.  I found the 'easy internet' cafe right off the St. Michel M stop and was able to get out a couple emails.  Unfortunately, it took me half an hour to configure the keyboard to English and at that I was unable to find certain symbols...what a pain.  Then I moved to another computer whose keyboard had no spacebar.  Christ, what a pigsty of a computer lab.  More burntout American college students than a Phish tour.  I made some calls, to T who helped me with some sightseeing plans, to Andy who wasn't home and  J who wasn't either.   With hope, they might have chance to visit me in January and February which will be both fun and afford me a bit of expense defraying sharing a room.  I am not sure who would want to share this room, though.  This isn't hard living, but it isn't the cleanest living.

So I did this and that. I’m really trying to get it all down in this journal so that I can come back and use it later.  I’m not sure what for, or when.  But I know that it’s very important.  I am alone with my thoughts, and my notebooks have always been there.  I’ve always sought refuge with writing to sort out my thoughts.  But usually when refuge I am seeking it’s not the time the thoughts come out.

And so, I did stuff and I came back again catching the last train of the night on the Metro back to l’arret Mouton Duvernet (which is reminding me of that Mouton Cadet that my father would bring home from fancy hotels; probably billed to a client’s expense account!).  I got a copy of FUSAC and presently am considering my options to move here.  I have enough to get me through six months at my present rate, which is only a guess.  The plan might be to return to the states, live with friends, sell the things I whisked into storage, sell the car, and examine what’s in my safe deposit box.  Just this room here would only be 650E and I'm sure over long term I could find an apartment for much less.  It’s not very impressive to a potential date that the foot of your bed is a mere metre from a bidet.  Or maybe it is.  Christ, who knows.  This is Paris.