THE POLITICS OF COFFEE

Now that my life has a vague semblance of routine again, this is how it starts off;

Alarm radio goes off at 7.15

Absorb early morning news through haze of semi-consciousness

Something or other catches my attention and (more often than not) annoys me into a state of awakeness*, from where I stagger blearily into the kitchen to make myself a cup of ethical trade organic coffee.

HOW TO...

get out of paying a public transport infringement fine...


To get to the appeals office before it shut, I raced from one end of Paris to the other in a record-breaking time of 40 minutes armed with the dodgiest 'I can not speak French very well' accent I could pull off, in an optimistic attempt to talk my way out of paying a 50 euro public transport fine:
"I did not understand"
"it was the first monthly pass I ever bought"
"they did not tell me" *struggles slightly with verb conjugation for effect*

OLD AND DUSTY

So, after living in Paris for over two months now (ooh lala!), I finally hauled derriere to check out one of Europe's largest collections of 'look at all the stuff we stole from other civilizations' (though, granted, some of it was bought...) aka the Louvre - a building with a very long history having first been constructed sometime in the 1100's as a fortress (no-one needed museums back then you see, everything was new, but they did need to protect themselves from other folks set on stealing all their stuff that would itself later end up in a museum).

That's probably ironic somehow. Let's progress...

After a time, the Louvre lost its military significance and became a royal residence, where very rich people could loll about being decadent all day - until it got plundered by the English (amongst others) in the 1400s who came and nicked all their stuff to later put in their own museums (told you it was going to be ironic, right?)

Anyway, eventually it became a museum in its own right (after all the lolling nobles had their heads chopped off), though there are certain areas that make you feel like you're about to bump into a very annoyed man in breeches demanding to know why all these peasants are trampling through his hall.

THE MAGICIAN OF ANTIBES

There was a storm brewing over the Mediterranean as I settled to lunch on a rock wall by the stony beach. Summer market-bought tomatoes and goat cheese on crackers had become my staple midday snack since arriving in the south, something about the heat, the light, the air, demanded fresh and simple foods. I opened my journal, slipped the shoes off my baking feet, and started slicing a tomato.
He appeared in the corner of my eye then, cautious. An older man, a little frayed around the edges and with an air of false bravado hiding a shy curiosity.

I gave him a quick smile and carried on slicing.

TRADING PLACES


If you're even vaguely Anglo-Saxon, or otherwise non-confrontational in nature, the thought of arguing about how much bewildering foreign currency to pay, while doing rapid conversion arithmetic in your head, for an item you're not even sure how you will get home/ if it will pass customs/ you'll understand why you bought once you get back to life on a comfortable mattress, may induce a hyperventilating panic attack. Never fear, I have a strategy.

TRAVEL

Travel is only glamorous in retrospect ~ P. Theroux

I could tell you a lot of really interesting travel facts about the Perfume Pagoda. Set amongst the limestone hills and tropical forests of the Huong Mountain region, I could tell you about the network of magnificent Buddhist shrines set in limestone caves. I could tell you about the strong women who shuttle tourists back and forth up the Yen River on flat-bottomed boats, or even about the deep respect (and consequent self-loathing) I developed for the joyful elderly Buddhist women overtaking me on the climb up to the main shrine.