A day off?

Day 19
Friday June 3

We got up thinking we wouldn't have class because that has been the arrangement for Fridays here. But, it was important to recap our Normandy trip, so we had an impromptu class at 5pm. Before that, we went to a cafe. This is a big event for Parisians. I don't know how (apparently they do not work during they day), but they spend hours at a time sitting and shooting the breeze at cafes in the noon hours during weekdays. Fine. We could do that too. So we sat. I tried rillette, which is a sandwich made with duck served a little like a tuna melt. Yum. And cafe creme. So we lingered and sat, and then we faced the fact that we must write a poem before our class.

Cafe creme=poet fuel

Commence turbo write. Its difficult to articulate in poetry an experience like Normandy (specifically relating ourselves to WWII), so we did our best, and hopped on the train to Cecelia's, where we workshopped and discussed our experiences.

This lil guy creepin on our workshop from the window

Then she took us to a party hosted by her jazz musician friend. It was in the street, open to whomever happened to be walking by. Very bobo, "bourgeouis boheme," according to my French friend. Then I sat in another cafe and with some friends until the wee hours, ate the best brie of my life (and two other cheeses that were tres magnifique but I cannot pronounce them so I shall refrain from trying), and went to bed.

Bobo jazz

A necessary recovery Day 19, voila.