A letter from the disgruntled American

Sound track of the day:
I took a little nap where the roots all twist
Squished your rotten peach in my fist
And dreamed about you, woman
I poked my finger down inside
Make a little room for an ant to hide
Nature's candy in my hand or can or pie

Current Temperature: Back to the gloom and doom, and extreme humidity.

Culture clash: don’t get me started on the language



I’ve decided that, while France may have inspired the godlike Hemingway, and the righteous Steinem, she is not for me and will never be my muse. She’s a fickle bitch, unforgiving in her judgment and temperamental in her nourishment. And she hates me.

It all started my first week here a month ago. She didn’t even take the chance to get to know me, before her wet claws dug her way into my skin and seeped her cold fingers into my bones and nerves and wreaked havoc on my sinuses and bronchial passageways. The stuffiness and coughing held strong for a good two weeks, at which point I bailed and headed off to Spain.

Spain provided me with perfect health. The sun was shining, and my lungs were free.

Upon my return to Versailles I immediately suffered from a fever, body aches and extreme sluggishness. A couple of days later that subsided only to be replaced by a strange hunger that could never be satisfied. Did I catch a tapeworm? An hour or two after eating I would feel an emptiness in my stomach that water wouldn’t fill.

Then there was the pick pocketing. Ok, it didn’t happen to me, but it sucked. Fucking gypsies man.

Meanwhile, I’ve begun to develop swollen gums. For the record, I am brushing, flossing and exercising all the proper dental hygiene recommended by the American Dental Association (America, the land of good teeth). Still tender. On top of the fact that I’m still sneezing a few dozen times before noon I have broken out into some kind of hideous zit beard with the star of the show appearing front and just right of center where my clef would be if I had a butt chin.

But yesterday, last night to be precise, was when I finally got the message.

Despite the return of the soul-permeating grayness, like something out of the foggy rolling cliffs of a Charlotte Brontë novel (and no, that’s not freaking romantic, at all), I decided to venture into Paris to meet my friend Siddarth and stroll as well as pick some essentials – a video cable for my PC/TV connection (it’s important to watch LOST on full screen). The sun also decided to make an appearance offering a reprieve from the cold, but only long enough to stroll the Luxembourg gardens. As I waited patiently for Siddarth to finish his meeting with a curator, the clouds rolled back in and the wind picked up, kicking up dust into my eyes sticking to my gas permeable contact lenses causing me to tear. Unable to open my eyes, I couldn’t find my tissue quickly enough and the tears blended with my mascara causing a sick mixture of sand, tears and Mabelline.

Instead of returning to Versailles after my short day in the city, I took a detour and traveled with Siddarth to Jouy en Josas, where he lives with wife Sonali, and Jen goes to school for her MBA program. I wanted to get a look at the campus, size up this mammoth hill climb I’d heard so much about (a story I will save for another time) and say hello to the good people I had met through Jen. Bad timing or bad luck but graduate house was dead. A lot of students were away on some military executive training and people were just out of it. I should have gone straight home because...

The rain had come down and washed the streets thoroughly.

I would have to call a cab to get myself home, but no cabs were answering. Typical French. If they feel like working, ok they’ll work. If not, you’re shit out of luck and can go screw yourself.

Luckily someone mentioned that there would be one more, final train from Jouy en Josas to Versailles. That was my last resort just short of crashing in Tomo’s room, which is empty because he is away in Brussels until next week (not an option).

The girls insisted that the boys take me to the train, and worried about my walk home from the Versailles train station. With my wild imagination, you shouldn’t suggest such things, unless you’re dead serious. Immediately, I developed a heightened sense of paranoia and envisioned a half dozen scenarios which involved me being mugged, clobbered, or worse.

As the train pulled in at Jouy and I bid my friends farewell, I noticed that in my car there is only one other person, a shady looking suburban youth wearing a white puffy jacket with faux fur trim. He appeared to be sleeping. My heart beat fast and small levels of adrenaline pumped through my veins, my fight instincts were locked and loaded. I sized him up as someone I could probably take with the help of my giant old lady purse and the video cable it housed. I remained keyed up until we pulled to the Versailles station 8 minutes later.

In Versailles I hoped for a cab to be waiting outside to take me home, but the only cab available was being reserved. Rather than wait for another cab I decided to book it home. And that I did.

My head swiveled in all directions as I sprinted home trying to appear as calm as possible, mostly to convince myself. Versailles, an affluent suburban town was very quiet. The wind occasionally picked up a littered trash bag, or blew a can across a driveway. I dodged dark doorways and cars with dark windows.

Finally I reached my building, fumbling with the keys. Stay calm, stay calm. Door, elevator, fermeture le porte, deuxieme etage, ouverture le porte, keys, door, lock, breathe.

Home. Jen wasn’t home, but I was safe from predators.

Wrong.

I had been in the living room not 5 seconds when a spider the size of a gold US dollar scampered across the carpet and stopped dead center. As if wanting to taunt me, with his furry legs and yellow polka dots, he stood there and for a moment there was a stand-off. The shock at his size and the sheer disgustingness of him paralyzed me, and I didn’t know what to do. My eyes panned the room and there, next to the trash bin, sat a tall aerosol can of carpet cleaner.

Quietly I lunged for it, whacked hard. And missed. Spider is disoriented, scampers some more, but now in jagged circles. Whacked again.

Dead.

Here I was faced with a glob of insect corpse on the carpet. I’m thinking the carpet cleaner will come in handy now.

I stared at the glob for a good 10 ten minutes. I alternated between contemplating disposal techniques and making my move on Lexulous. Avoidance. I tried, but the dark patch throbbed out of the corner of my eye. I had to get rid of it. So with a paper towel folded multiple times I picked it up and in the toilet it went.

As I flushed, thoughts of his ghost’s vengeance washed over me. I considered the family he left behind and how they may come to punish me for their loss.

I couldn’t wait for Jen to come home.

So…

Dear France,

I know we have our issues and the chemistry is pretty bad. But I have another month here. And half of it I’ll be traveling abroad anyway, so in that time would you please bless me with a meager amount of kindness by leaving my health alone, sharing some good weather and, if you feel like being generous, grant me the ability to speak your language so I don’t get blank stares from your citizens?

That’s all I ask. I won’t ask for inspiration, romantic sunsets, I won’t even ask for a wild time. I hope you can heed my simple request and I will do my best to treat your people righteous.

Your humble guest,
Fadedpaperdoll

On tonight’s menu:
Caramelized fennel, shallots, green beans, and pancetta salad
Chicken wings
Potato wedges

Rosé