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.
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