il pleut

A friend gave me the keys to her apartment while she is away so I invited another friend to spend the night with me there. We met up at church last night. After the service I “chatted” with a guy from Haiti. He was impressed with my French and surprised that I’ve only been in Paris for four months. I hardly said a word—which is probably why he thought my French was good—and he, he talked about the famous people who have worn the sunglasses from his work. The only one I recognized was Lady Gaga.

After church, some of us piled into a van and headed through the rain towards the home of a young family for “a simple gouter.” Within minutes, car sickness set in and I had difficulty concentrating on the conversation with the Russian girl to my left. The driver took a wrong turn and got stuck behind a garbage truck. He didnt seem to be in a hurry to turn around. Qu’est-ce qu’il fait?!

La Noël approche!

During the little party, Sammy and I sat between a lovely couple from New Zealand. We all drank champagne. Several hours later after the raclette and various tarts accompanied by a large vat of warm chocolate sauce, our host offered his guests a midnight ride to the station. Google told me earlier that afternoon that we were a 15 minute walk from the apartment so I declined. It took us 15 minutes x 5 and for all but 10 of those minutes, it rained. I made tea while we listened to Civil Wars. Delirious and giggly, we never fully straighten the couch into a bed. It insisted on maintaining a sort of flattened “s” shape and Sammy and I lacked the energy to argue. She said she slept well anyway.