Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Upholding a Moor Family Tradition
I woke up early this morning to skype with Billy and grab a decent breakfast downstairs: coffee, muesli, yogurt, and baguette with butter and honey. Not bad!
First order of business was to get some stronger coffee. Then, buy some postcards. Then, it was off to yoga. Today, our instructor started the class in English and then asked me after the first posture of the standing series if she could teach in French for the sake of the French-speaking debutantes. I, of course, nodded my head yes and we went along without another bump in the road. I saw some minute progress in the back bends, but my triangle pose was really weak on the left side. Again, a kink that will work itself out along the course of my ten days here. After a nice shower, I started home, stopping into Sephora to shamelessly use all their testers (Sneaky or resourceful? You choose!). Maybe my lipstick was a little too pink because my remaining walk home resulted in blatant stares from strangers and a random guy (he must've been 20!) inviting me to a par-TEE. I responded with awkward silence.
A restaurant in the neighborhood called Au Chien Qui Fume (At The Smoking Dog) caught my eye with a front window display of fresh seafood. I thought, "What the heck! It's Christmas Eve after all." I sat down and enthusiastically ordered fresh oysters (a French tradition) and French Onion Soup (a Moor family tradition). Though a little pricey and *a lot* lonely, this dinner treat felt right. The service staff was nice and fast (a very unusual combination here by the way), and then the bill came. Once I put my debit card down the staff ignored my table for a solid 45 minutes. Were they giving me the cold shoulder? ...time to digest? When I finally got someone’s attention, I ordered a petit café (espresso) to enjoy out on the heat-lamp-warmed terrace. The people-watching on this night was spectacular. A winter drizzle brought out fur collars, high-heeled boots, a million different color pea coats and the most elegant selection of umbrellas I’ve ever seen. People were scurrying around with arm-fulls of last-minute Christmas shopping.
After writing and stamping a few postcards I walked to the Louvre courtyard where several glass pyramid structures lit up the dark stormy night. The rain-soaked night air was refreshing, but my instincts (and my right hip) were telling me to turn in early. So, I headed back to the hostel where a single bed warmly welcomed my yoga weary body with cotton sheets and a thin plaid flannel blanket.