I love to complain about France, but the truth is…I kind of like it here. True, I rarely have to DO anything while I’m here. The times when I’ve worked in the archives or watched as YJ tried to find an apartment or negotiate the bureaucracy of the local university makes me really glad that my usual purpose is here is ‘vacation.’ But such is.
YJ’s apartment is on a quiet street near Place Gambetta and—this is shocking—adjacent to Bordeaux’s main shopping district. The streets are all cobblestones and are lined with stores, both small shops and international chains, interpolated nicely with the occasional café or restaurant. As is usual in France, we’ve stopped trying to find “French” cuisine and instead take advantage of the cosmopolitan nature of French cities to enjoy cuisine d’outre-mer. Yesterday it was Indian food. Today we walked about 15 minutes to a vegetable market tucked into a narrow street and surrounded by African markets. And if all else fails, the local Mickey-D’s is three blocks away and we can order a “Royal avec Cheese.” (No metric system, you know.)
I’ve spent the day working, but not really: mostly reviewing Chinese. Fifty