Dispatches from July 21
Noon: …I slept until 1:30.
GUESS WHO SLEPT FOR THIRTEEN HOURS?!!!!
3 PM: Finishing lunch at Cafe Central.
I’m relishing Spanish sardines with minced shallots on toast. Dad orders sea bream, but when he sees a nearby table’s Croque Madame burgers, he can’t resist. Though a busboy mistakenly brings the sea bream, our waiter soon whisks Dad’s plate away and delivers the beautiful burger.
The original order (avec sea bream)
The siren burger. As good as it looks.
6 PM: We try to return to our apartment, but the street is blocked by police for several hours because of the Tour de France. Each officer shooes us to the next corner, but after fully orbiting the block, we still haven’t gotten in. Certainly, our pathetic French doesn’t help; we’ve resorted to typing phrases into a translator app and holding them up to the police. Guess it’s back to the WeeFee cafe to check emails and work up energy for more walking.
9 PM: Since we can’t go home to change, we need a dinner place that will accept our shorts and sneakers. We walk inward til the streets get smaller and street performers inhabit the corners.
Adorable dance duo
Down a narrow side street, the proprietors aggressively push their set menus. One owner reads the “Made Fresh” logo on my tank top and guffaws that his food is also “made fresh” while gesticulating at my breasts. We do not choose him.
Another owner enthusiastically touts her simple food, and draws us in to La Citrouille.
This is the first place so far where vegetables are included with the main plats! I get a juicy steak with roasted potatoes, and Dad has salmon with sorrel sauce. We each also get sauteed green beans and ratatouille, which is the best thing on the plate.
12 AM: The apartment owner told us where the WiFi router was, so once we reboot that, we finally see the right network! But the password is 26 characters long and scrawled across a cardboard box. There are five repeating characters that are ambiguous (e.g. “1” vs. “l”). Well, if any profession prepares one to decipher terrible handwriting and type seemingly endless permutations of text strings, it’s mine. Internet access at last. Holla at me, fellow research lackeys! Data entry ftw!
Oh, and I discover the final peril in the main bedroom. Good thing nobody was sleeping when this happened:
The bed and the ceiling: Totes BFFLs.