Monday, July 27, 2009

Not the best weekend

It wasn’t my brightest weekend in the City of Light.

• Friday night, I fell on a staircase in a store and a) embarrassed myself (it was a not-so-graceful fall) b) *killed* my knee along with my ankle and butt (I was limping all day Saturday), but worst of all c) I ruined the fabulous new pair of Robert Clergerie platform heels that I was wearing for the first time. So sad.

• I had to work both days.

• I didn’t get enough sleep.

• And I was practically assaulted by a taxi driver. I was biking into work on Sunday and tapped this cab on the window as he kept drifting toward the curb. It was my friendly way of letting him know I was there as he wasn’t responding to my bike bell. As soon as I touched his precious taxi van, however, he pulled over, stopped me in the middle of the street and grabbed me by the arm. The bike fell in the middle of the road and I start freaking out, yelling at him to take his f’ing hands off me. Then he grabbed my bag out of the bike basket and wouldn't give it back to me. It was all so infuriating. I finally got my bag back, when he took the overpriced salad I was bringing for lunch instead. As soon as I had my bag and arm back, I took off, blood boiling, onlookers scratching their heads and telling this man he was “malade” and cooled off/hid on a side street for a few minutes. Then I got to go to work. I mean, wtf??

• The weekend’s final insult was getting home at 8 o’clock on Sunday night, after a weekend mostly spent at the office, and stopping by the Italian sandwich shop I like for my beautiful pressed mozzarella and tomato sandwich. By the time I get these home to eat, the cheese and olive oil and basil has melded to the sweet tomatoes and crunchy bread in this perfect dinner of deliciousness. But when I got home and sat down to eat last night, I saw they had given me the wrong sandwich: it was ham. I couldn’t eat it.

It wasn’t all disastrous, however. On a positive note…

• I had the most delicious lobster roll and goose fat French fries at Daniel Rose’s Spring restaurant. The lobster roll was a beautiful summer feast—which made me very happy and a little nostalgic for Connecticut—but the fries were otherworldly. And not because of the goose fat, though that indeed made a delicious difference. But he grated orange and lime zest over them, giving them a light, slightly tart accent—sublime, I tell you. Give it a try (Meghan).

• I had another fun night with Mel: good food and conversation at Hotel du Nord followed by a Parisian house party. Crazy cats in this city.

• I got to see the finish of the Tour de France: an epic experience here in Paris.

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