After starting this blog, I was sleepy and tried to nap at noon but couldn't fall asleep. I got ready to go to the supermarket with Josh and crew and was just putting on my scarf when I saw Josh dashing across the street to knock on my door. Their van, "the Master," is a beast--big, old, not easily parked on the narrow streets, so he leaves it running on the corner, blocking traffic. I have no phone, so he can't call me to say they are waiting for me. This leaving vehicles to block traffic is quite common; however, I am appalled by the waste of expensive gas. I'm also appalled that it's all diesel because that is very bad for my damaged lungs.
The supermarket is a German discount chain. If you are familiar with Aldi's in the States, you'll know what this is like--off brands, good prices. Gerard, the young Dutchman who is in charge of the kitchen/cooking, and his helper Camilla from Poland zipped through the store and then went across the street to another one by the time I got through the check out. They bought food for 30 people for two days; the back of the van was piled high. They had one small bag. Because I had taken so long, their time was up, so we had to rush back. Gerard needed to get the evening meal going, and Josh had a meeting/prayer time with the other staff members. They dropped me off at my house, and I did a small load of laundry and swept the floor. I should have gone out to walk along the ocean front because it was a gorgeous day--warm, no wind, no clouds. Soon, Josh was back at the door. He had ridden over on a bike (no easy feat given the slant of the streets in this cliff-side city). He stayed about 30 minutes and left his phone with me so that my ride could call to tell me she was ready to pick me up. Wouldn't you know: I couldn't figure out HOW TO ANSWER THE PHONE!!!! Poor Kate kept calling, and poor Deb kept trying to turn on the phone. Finally, I decided I'd just walk in the direction of her place, and miraculously, she was just coming around the corner with Lilly's stroller and Elle walking to their car when I approached the place I would have turned to go on to their house. This is amazing because they have to park wherever they can find a spot. This spot was quite far from the house. Josh kept shaking his head all evening over the fact that we connected this way without the help of the phone.
At the surf hostel, Gerard and the people on KP had made a delicious meal of lemon chicken, sweet potatoes, and veggie salad. Kourtney from Oklahoma also made a spicy chicken with so much cayenne pepper that we were all coughing BEFORE the meal. The bread on the table was scrumptious. I had not eaten any the night before--worried about the calories. I'll have to be careful with it; it's better than chocolate! Toward the end of meals, they give announcements. My table wasn't listening but rather engaging in a mini-food fight. Kourtney hit Camilla squarely in the eyes with a slice of lemon. Clearing the table later, I found cucumber and lettuce everywhere on the floor. I missed most of the announcements but enjoyed watching my table mates have their fun.
Our dinner conversation centered on food. Several of us tried to explain fried okra to the others. This put us on a "Southern foods" tangent; by the end of the discussion, all of us who love Southern cooking were groaning at the thought of candied sweet potatoes and pickled okra. Juan from Columbia had never heard of okra. During this time, we also had a discussion about the politically correct words for black Americans and folks from Mexico in the States. Gerard explained that he was telling Kourtney about his trip to South Africa and used the term "colored people." Kourtney had given him "the look" for it. Gerard quickly learned this is not the right term to use around African Americans. Then, the Canadians had a good laugh about Americans and political correctness, after which, we Americans spelled words we wanted to hear the Canadians pronounce (about, house, eh). Once again, it was all good fun.
As I helped clear the tables, the Swiss girls clucked and said how kind I am because they were on clean up for the evening. No, not kind; just doing what my mom taught me to do 55 years ago!
Shoshannah from England had not seen a photo of Alex, so I had Josh pull up some from Face Book. Then, it was time to hop into the Master to deliver some of the girls home to their house. With them tucked securely in for the night, Josh took me on a driving tour of the "centre ville"--the center or heart of the city--pointing out all of the expensive shops and eateries as well as a palace built by Napoleon III for his mistress that is now a hotel. We stopped at the light house to look south over the well-lit city: beautiful! We also saw "the Virgin," a statue of Mary lit up on a rock that juts from the ocean, and Josh explained that the bridge out to her was built by Gustave Eiffel--one of his lesser known works. Wink.
The town seemed nearly empty of people. Fridays in the winter are low key. The French are more family oriented than Americans and spend most evenings with their children. Of course, in the summer, the streets teem with people day and night.
Back at the house, Josh had more gateau Basque, charged my computer, and showed me hysterical things from the internet. We laughed so hard we cried. I imagine our neighbors were wishing we would go to bed. Actually, we don't hear each other much because the walls are so thick. Because I needed to get up early, Josh left about 11:15. I didn't sleep much and must now rise from bed to shower and do my hair before going to the flea market in Anglet this morning. I've been told to be prepared to see an impressive array of items for sale.
A bientot (until soon)
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