PUTTING SOME MILEAGE ON THE METER -1

Oh how to account for the madness that have been the last five days.

WEDNESDAY
Wednesday started slowly, by the time we had managed to cook our three course dinner, it was already around nine o’clock. The dinner: first, fried aubergine slices with mozzarella and basilica on top. As a side dish, we had bread and different cheeses. Main dish: couscous, with a light lemon/cream sauce, and an honest steak. And a little bit of wine maybe.
The girls wanted to go out for a cigarette before we were to leave for the bar (we were already an hour late from our rendez vous). So we went out, but the keys thought it was too cold, and decided to stay behind. So, as we contemplated, with my o’-so-dear-friend, la guardienne, how the hell we would get back into my apartment, I learned that a locksmith in France costs around 300-500e. This is when I decided to call my landlord, who had a spare key, and came to bring it to us, at nine o’clock, from about an hours distance. Fortunately the bar next to us provided with a modicum of warmth, and some nice rosé. Needless to say (but said here anyway) mr. Lambert was very happy to assist his idiotic tenants. Or just actually one idiot, me. Julia was still surfing in Spain.
After the lacking-the-key incident, we headed off to our now we-are-extremely-late rendez vous, to a small, nice bar called ‘le cyrano’ at place de clichy. The one person I know from my school had invited me there, and we made the best of the 3e wine glasses, mingled and laughed. It was nice seeing Eeva and Laura. The guy from my school tried to hook me up with his friend, a definitely pretty girl, whose phone number I got. We caught the last metro, to head to a watering hole closer to our place, and the Bastille area provides you just that. With unaffordable prices unfortunately.
After having checked out the prices we entered a really chique design bar that was completely empty, and had a bottle of frizzante (warm, but brought over in an ice bucket). The place was boring, so we were heading home and Laura wanted to talk to the policemen on the street. And lots of other people we didn’t know too. Somehow, we wound up in a sleazy bar with (relatively) cheap beer, and weren’t home until five. Or six.

THURSDAY
I think we woke up around two. Like on all other days.
Feeling slightly weakened by our nightly efforts, we decided to limit our touristic ambitions to the Jardin des plantes right behind our place. We were meaning to go to the zoo, but we were late. This happened the next day too. Instead, we went to an Arab restaurant. It was really nice, Islamic (I think) style decorations, soft sofas. Everybody was having tea. I think the girls were the only ones with a coca cola on the table. We asked for a shisha pipe, they had a taste I haven’t had before, apple-mint, which was really good. When we eventually came out, it was already dark, and we hadn’t eaten a thing yet. My mum had come over o our place already, and our sorry gang headed to the Quartier Latin to find some grub. We ended up in a crap restaurant with a fifteen Euro menu, and awful wine. I was still hungry after having eaten my menu and half of my mother’s.
With the help of Finnish sciences-po Heidi, we found our way to a bar called Hideout, on rue pot fu fer, close to the Pantheon. We had just missed the 2,50e pints, but the wine turned out to be affordable. Especially after they ran out of wine glasses and used normal glasses instead. Laura and her charm got full glasses ever time. The place was crammed, obviously people knew about the cheap pints. We were only four, but the bar was full of people, and I decided, once here, I could try to talk to people I don’t know! really! It worked, and when the bar closed, we invited everybody to join us at the Violon dingue, just a little bit further away. By this time the lack of sleep the night before was starting to take its toll on petit moi. Finally our gang split up, and some people who won’t be named here, went on to party at some dude’s house.

FRIDAY
And then came the weekend. Halfway through the girls trip, and there was very little light at the end of the tunnel.
Friday morning was however considerably more civilised for me. We met an old family friend, Krister, at Place Dauphine, on the same island as the Notre Dame – a real find! There was a small restaurant, where I ate one of the best chocolate cakes in my life. And I decided that if I ever get to go on a date here, that’s where I’ll take the girl. Krister was doing well, living a little bit outside Paris, enjoying life. We had a nice time, and catching up was swell.
to be continued...