Seul
Que puis-je faire pour vous ?
- Un cappuccino et le scone au naturel SVP.
D'accord. C'est tout?
- Ah, non ! Alors, oh et puis-je avoir le gâteau carrote et peut-être trois de ces gâteaux merinque citron. Merci.
De rien, madamoiselle. Puis-je vous present un cheval pour vous manger aussi?
- Ne soyez pas ridicule...... oui.
(Me when I go to a café by myself.)
If Paris has taught me one thing, it is how to keep yourself entertained. Foodwise and otherwise. No, I do not really go and order 5 dishes of sweets (though I totally would if I had a metabolism the speed of Usain Bolt and his wallet as well), but I do know when the right time is to let your sweet tooth take the wheel like in the Carrie Underwood song and just go ahead and indulge.
Today was one of those days. It's a windy crisp Sunday, my clean washing keeps getting blown off the makeshift line on my 2nd storey walk-up apartment windows and onto the neighbour below who is sweeping the courtyard (I need to remember that clothes pegs are a legitimate object that has been invented by someone for the convenience of millions around the world). I have to embarrassedly make my way down stairs and pluck my bra off the top of her weave and apologise, bowing continuously as I make my way backwards back inside (you get the image).
I digress. I had a nice shower, sat in my robe (props to robes for making one feel like a real adult also) and decided that that chipped nail polish from my summer holidays 2 months ago has done it's time on my toes and needs to be banished for eternity. It was a slow start to what has been another all round good day. Finally I squeezed into some jeans and chucked on ye-old grey T-shirt and sauntered down the road to Café Lomi. I had only been here on days when it was practically empty. Today I was lucky to find a table but my Paulo Coelho book and I found ourselves nestled between two groups of people at the big table and soon I was rewarding my undeserving belly with a cappuccino and a fresh, warm scone with butter and jam (mmmmmm how delightful it is to watch a slither of butter slide and melt). I sat there for what was 2 hours nearly, reading my book, talking to friends and making plans for my future weekend trips away from Paris and caught up on my mind's drifting thoughts.
Finally I decided to high tail it back home as it was getting pretty chilly outside, and went to pay. My fellow Australian barista was there to greet me and we got chatting a bit about meeting people here, and where to find good coffee. He asked me how I was going settling in as Paris is a "big city" and I just quietly and simply said that as long as I have a place to escape and a good coffee to sip on, any place is home enough for me.
You know those moments when you say something, and as you say it, it actually resonates with you and is a clear solution to your mind's troubles? Yeah.
