Sunday 22 March 2:15 p.m.I'm at a Moroccan restaurant feeling very out of place and a bit lost. I'm on my way to A's hotel because I can't call her on my phone, can't figure out how to use the public phones, and Mme. Rey only has a cell phone and I'm not too sure about her.
I got home at about 11:30 last night and she was sitting in front of the TV watching a bunch of Catholic priests (or something) shuffling around and chanting. The background music sounded like a cross between Jean Michel Jarre and the music from that 70s TV show, "In Search Of..." Mme. Rey asked me what time I wanted breakfast the next morning, and looking at the time, I said, "I don't know, eight?"
She jumped out of her skin. "No! This is too EARLY! I have to get out of BED!"
I said, "Okay, when is good?"
She thought a moment, put the sentence together in her head, then said, "How about a quarter to nine?"
I managed to meditate for 30 minutes on two folded-in-half pillows with the TV blasting, Mme. Rey talking on the phone, and a group of actors(?) in the courtyard making "scary" hawn-hawn-hawn noises.
I put in earplugs, an eye mask and slept hard, even though the bed was too short.
In the middle of a dream in which a very masculine person was talking to me and then someone else was telling me it was a woman, Mme. Rey rapped on the bedroom door.
I said, "Yes? Hello?"
No response.
I figured out where I was, got up, dressed, went to the toilette then brushed my teeth and went into the living room.
"Did you sleep?"
"Yes," I answered, "I slept very well."
"You see? And you wanted me to get up at 8, and it's almost 9!"
(It was 8:34.)
She gave me her chair in front of the TV, apologized for not having CNN because it "costs a little dollars more," but offered me the BBC, which I declined. She gave me one cup of English Breakfast tea, a half glass of fresh-squeezed OJ, a glass container of sheep yogurt I bought yesterday at a grocery store (a 4-pack, because I thought the containers would make good juice glasses back home) and a croissant. She burned the first croissant and blamed me ("When I wake up with the alarm I am wonky." She didn't say wonky, but made a gesture which can best be described as "wonky!").
Oh, and last night she scolded me for hanging my toiletries bag on a round drawer pull on a dresser which is "worth much money, like the table" at bedside. That was understandable, but it was just one more crazy thing from Mme. Rey.
Today, I meditated then walked through the Jardin des Plantes (Garden of Plants?!) then to the mosque where there is a hospital, a restaurant and a Turkish bath. I was there about three hours. Very interesting, beautiful, steamy.
I came out and had a crepe with Nutella and banana then walked toward A's hotel but stopped here {at the Moroccan restaurant} on the way because I was starving.
And now I'm stuffed.
I got home at about 11:30 last night and she was sitting in front of the TV watching a bunch of Catholic priests (or something) shuffling around and chanting. The background music sounded like a cross between Jean Michel Jarre and the music from that 70s TV show, "In Search Of..." Mme. Rey asked me what time I wanted breakfast the next morning, and looking at the time, I said, "I don't know, eight?"
She jumped out of her skin. "No! This is too EARLY! I have to get out of BED!"
I said, "Okay, when is good?"
She thought a moment, put the sentence together in her head, then said, "How about a quarter to nine?"
I managed to meditate for 30 minutes on two folded-in-half pillows with the TV blasting, Mme. Rey talking on the phone, and a group of actors(?) in the courtyard making "scary" hawn-hawn-hawn noises.
I put in earplugs, an eye mask and slept hard, even though the bed was too short.
In the middle of a dream in which a very masculine person was talking to me and then someone else was telling me it was a woman, Mme. Rey rapped on the bedroom door.
I said, "Yes? Hello?"
No response.
I figured out where I was, got up, dressed, went to the toilette then brushed my teeth and went into the living room.
"Did you sleep?"
"Yes," I answered, "I slept very well."
"You see? And you wanted me to get up at 8, and it's almost 9!"
(It was 8:34.)
She gave me her chair in front of the TV, apologized for not having CNN because it "costs a little dollars more," but offered me the BBC, which I declined. She gave me one cup of English Breakfast tea, a half glass of fresh-squeezed OJ, a glass container of sheep yogurt I bought yesterday at a grocery store (a 4-pack, because I thought the containers would make good juice glasses back home) and a croissant. She burned the first croissant and blamed me ("When I wake up with the alarm I am wonky." She didn't say wonky, but made a gesture which can best be described as "wonky!").
Oh, and last night she scolded me for hanging my toiletries bag on a round drawer pull on a dresser which is "worth much money, like the table" at bedside. That was understandable, but it was just one more crazy thing from Mme. Rey.
Today, I meditated then walked through the Jardin des Plantes (Garden of Plants?!) then to the mosque where there is a hospital, a restaurant and a Turkish bath. I was there about three hours. Very interesting, beautiful, steamy.
I came out and had a crepe with Nutella and banana then walked toward A's hotel but stopped here {at the Moroccan restaurant} on the way because I was starving.
And now I'm stuffed.
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