La Rochelle-- Friday

(je suis désolé que ce post soit en anglais, mais le prochain, l'histoire du troll, ça sera en français--la traduction de ce post vient prochainement)

I know that this post is a little late, but Le Foyer is a cruel, indolence-inducing mistress. I’ll now get to the story. We (Me, Benoit, Jaime, Uli, and Ana) went to La Rochelle, a sea-side town in southwestern France. You’re thinking-- it’s hours away from Evreux, it’s warm, it’s sunny, it’s beachy, the bare-breasted French beauties bathing, perhaps even basking, in the cancer-producing rays of that hydrogen-fusing ball of celestial dust, known to the ancient Egyptians, who built the pyramids, those phallic, perennially erect tombstones, as RE, and known to us as THE SUN. For those of you needing a crash course in French geography, it’s here:












We left around 3pm on Friday. It was cold in Evreux. We arrived in La Rochelle around 8pm, it was f’ing cold. Colder than Kathy Lee Gifford’s marital bed after she found that Frank had cheated on her; Colder than the Fanta Light I leave out on my window-sill at night because I don’t have any access here at the foyer to a fridge. My rosacea flared, it didn’t bode well.












After meeting Ana’s very pregnant friend, we went in search of the hotel, a Formula Un, which is, as Uli described, a Kubrickesque nightmare, we’re talking a “the-blood-usually-gets-off-on-the-second-floor-plus-getting-beat-to-death-with-a-dildo” type of decor, everything was plastic-- easier to hose down that way. It was cheap.














We, -- I mean I-- decided to drink a little before searching out a restaurant and meeting Ana’s friends. We ate Italian, it was good. Uli lusted after Benoit’s dessert.

We then went in search of, as Fred quaintly coined it, “un hypermaché des salopes”. We ended up at a pretty cool bar in the middle of La Rochelle. We there encountered some American girls, who were, for a lack of a better word, fairly uninteresting.



Actually, the two blondes were nice, but the Troll, to whom I’ll dedicate an entire post, jumped out of nowhere and started attacking us! If you ever been in the middle of a troll attack, the best thing to do is (1) play dead or (2) flash your eyespots and slowly make your way to the door. Trolls hate fresh air. As a foretaste, when she first met me, she said to me, “you don’t look like a Texan.” and to Jaime, “I don’t like Spaniards.” Plus she was really tiny, miniature, even. Just like a troll. Trolls are tiny, haven’t any of y’all seen Leprechaun? Jennifer Aniston was in it.

You'll see the troll soon enough.

Needlesstosay, the drinking begins…Jaime appropriates the coat of one of the Americans

…Uli takes off his shirt…Ana leaves with her friends…we decided to leave the bar and walking around we find another club…it’s 4am…it’s a crappy club…with really shitty music…I sit down…not drunk enough to dance…loud house music…too many collars popped…rum and cokes do nothing…must leave…we get back at 6am…whisky…bed.