Wednesday, November 19, 2008


Since I've been back, I've gone on a mini shopping spree. Not that I've actually bought anything extravagant: a new cheap watch (the old one broke); aluminum water bottle (half the price I'd seen them for before); antiseptic ointment (maybe that doesn't count); pajamas (too pricey--but on sale); and several pastries (yum!). It's probably a reaction from hanging out with Kent all these weeks. Since he was short on funds, we kept expenditures to the occasional museum, meal or drink. Also, I don't think he's a big shopper under any circumstances, and I'm not either, but it was still fun to go and pick up a couple of things that were semi-needed.

One more item on my list is a new date book. As a treat, I'd gotten myself a nice Moleskine one that covered September '08 thru December '09. I brought it along on our travel adventure and managed to lose it. It was the only thing I lost the entire time--a bummer because, not only did it have lists and addresses and opening hours for all kinds of things I want to do in Paris, I also had my carte de sejour tucked into its inside pocket. Whoops. Let's just hope that I won't have a problem getting back into France after my next trip to London--in two weeks. (It was the temporary card, which means that, someday, the permanent one will arrive, otherwise I'd report the loss to the police.)

On Monday night, with great effort, I dragged myself to an expat happy hour. I was meeting American friend, Nadine, there or I probably wouldn't have made it. Anyway, it was good to see her, and another acquaintance, and mostly the three of us chatted. The place was insanely crowded and the vaulted basement ceiling was so echo-y that I thought I was going to lose my mind.

A young man walked by and half smiled at us. I gave him a full smile and said hi, then he said hi, Nadine said hi and we all started talking. As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew he was Australian (correct!) but he didn't look Australian (his parents are from Sri Lanka, but he's a native).

After spending so much time with Kiwis I have a funny reaction to meeting Australians. First, I want tell them that I've been to Gallipoli. Next, I want to give them a hard time. Now, the piss taking (s**t giving) usually occurs place between men (and not even all men), so I couldn't go there, but, really, what was I thinking? I'm not a Kiwi. What I did say was, "My boyfriend's a Kiwi so I feel like I should give you a hard time." He laughed and said, "Oh, right. Russell Crowe. They don't like that we claim him. But who wants him?"

I laughed too, because he was right. "Exactly what I said--'are you sure you want to take credit for that?'"

He also mentioned that he was looking for people to drink with (he wondered where all the other Aussies were) and I thought it was a shame Kent wasn't there. Later on, Nadine got his number and they're planning to try out the Australian bar in Paris (it has three branches!) sometime. Possibly, I'll even be invited.

PS Did you notice that Kent left comments? That's a first! He's the best.

Grateful for: getting out of the house.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Anonymous comments will be rejected. You don't have to use your real name, just A name. No URL is required; enter your name and leave the 'url' line blank. Thank you.