A Day in the Life, Thursday 24 Fèvrier

Wednesday hadn't been a good day. It had started with a couple of gypsy girls ambushing me at the ATM, pressing buttons, changing the amount I was requesting, and generally trying to distract me long enough to get the cash and my card and run. I yowled and thankfully there was a guy nearby who came over to chase them away -- they had demanded 300 euros, which surprisingly enough I don't have in my account at the moment, so finally in peace I got my 30 euros and went on my way, somewhat upset and shocked. The rest of the day wasn't bad, so to speak, just not great, and a few personal demons decided to show up and grab me around the throat...

Put it this way, Thursday morning wasn't particularly welcome. My alarm went off at 9am, not very early, I know. But oh lovely, the nose is stuffed up and it's gray AGAIN, this is going to be good...

But no matter what my state of mind, there is one thing that will always get me out of bed and on the metro, which is a dance class. So I dragged myself up and headed out to have some breakfast. Colette was eating at the same time and we chatted for awhile over coffee, until I realized I needed to go and put the car in gear.

I was just feeling scattered -- my mind and body tend to be really connected and the mini-breakdown of the night before was scattering my energy all over the place. Gray again, I was tired, slightly sick, and muttered various French curses on my way down the stairs.

On the metro, there was a cheerful guy with an accordion, speaking french with a heavy Arab accent and smiling. He played several bouncy tunes. I gave him a euro. It seemed a small price to pay for making me smile.

I wish I could say that I had an amazing ballet class and everything was better afterward, because that would make a good story. Only it's not true: I was off my balance the whole class, still outside of my body, and it was only the last combination of an hour and a half long class that I finally felt like I was centered. Better late than never, I guess. I felt slightly better but still frustrated as I headed back to the metro. The bums on the sidewalk all call out, "belle madamoiselle, une cigarette?" They all want cigarettes...no, I'm not interested. I ignored them all. Just easier that way, even though bumming cigarettes seems to be a national pastime.

I dropped by Reid Hall briefly to print a few things out, had a fight with the printer, and then walked home. I had lunch with Colette - the avocado I'd bought earlier in the week was absolutely perfect, the Maroccan strawberries that had been on sale were juicy and red and beautiful and really good with yogurt. Plus a "tradition", which is if possible better than a baguette, and life started to look up. Colette made some coffee and I had it with a chocolate eclair.

After all this activity, I was exhausted, and lay down for a little cat nap, which I have perfected. I slept 30/40 minutes, then kibitzed about the internet until 18h45 (6:45PM in other words)...then back on the metro.

Line 4 to Chatelet, line 1 to Franklin D Roosevelt, line 9 to Alma Marceau, where I met a friend and headed off to the Palais de Tokyo. Her idea -- apparently it has really nothing to do with Tokyo and is instead for contemporary art. Go figure.

When we got there, there were a bunch of people standing around in the lobby, as though waiting for something. Heartily confused, my friend and I bought tickets (1 euro each, not bad!), then asked the lady what was going on.

She pointed to a black box plopped in the middle of the lobby, roughly 6' X 6' X 6'. She said that there was a metal band inside, and in about five minutes they were going to open the door and reveal them.

Oh really?! We went over to the box and put our ears against it. Yep, you could hear vague pounding, but that was it. Right about then, the sound exploded as the guard swung open the front door, and sure enough! There was a metal band squashed inside. Four of them: drums, a bass, guitar, and a vocalist screaming into a microphone. Strange.

After that we actually went to the exhibit, which was even stranger. It was  in the basement, in this enormous warehouse space, bare industrial walls and no lights -- the light came from the huge video projections on the wall. It was an exhibit about Amos Gitai and his father -- the films were all creations of Amos, often about his father's story. The projections really were enormous, and the sound from them was all mixed together and jumbled until you were right in front and then the one you were looking at took precedence. It was interesting -- though bizarre.

Back on the metro after that -- 9 to the 1 to the B, though I suggested the 4. I would have been right because the B was delayed, but there you go. We got off at St Michel and met another friend. Elena and I were hungry and grabbed a bucket of fries from nearby, then we headed off to a nearby bar, called The Gentleman, which is really nice. It was busy -- there was a soccer match on. However, we found a little table and crowded around it with a pint.

At the end of the first pint, Elena's boyfriend and a friend joined us and so the second pint came around, plus two more chairs around the tiny table. Five of us now, we spent another hour chattering. Although they could tell immediately that I wasn't French -- my accent gives it away, even though I speak really well -- the new additions didn't have any problem talking extremely quickly, and with the noise of the bar I really had to concentrate. However, I understood almost everything, which I was really happy about. I'd say I'm doing well if I can understand rapid fire French in a busy bar. (My accent, by the way, gets better with a little alcohol. Or at least, I talk quicker. They say you lose the editor...it's true).

We headed out a little past 11 and I went home and went to bed fairly soon after, but much happier and much more together. That is a fairly typical day at the end of the week, though usually I'm teaching. I move a lot -- I'm out about in Paris often, often with friends, always on the metro...and I love it.

However, I would be much happier if the sun would come out. Just for a little.