Maybe it doesn't actually PAY money, but it makes for a darn good story...
Woke up to a beautifully sunlit, pink room (Adelaide’s) and went downstairs for breakfast. Simon and Marion were trying to get all the chillin ready for school- similar to herding cats. He offered me some cereal and coffee… I received two bowls. Confused by this, I thought one was a “waste bucket” for the orange I was peeling when I was supposed to use it for my coffee. Four spoonfuls of instant grounds+milk+sugar+hot H2o=bowl-o-caffeine. I enjoyed the portion actually, these miniture coffees have not been fullfilling my addiction. I've been craving a Venti skinny latte with espresso sextuplets and home made caramel... extra hot... Once everyone had left the house dragging, kicking and screaming (birth control...) besides Marion, I went on a run around the neighboring tree farms and private roads leading to stucco mansions. There was frost on the ground, but the sun was shining, so I braved JUST shorts (well, I had a sweatshirt on too... bare legs is what I was getting at...) and loved it. I felt like my lungs were on fire, and I know I'm out of shape, but not THIS bad! They were burning dead wood piles, so smoke inhalation was too blame. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
I grabbed a quick shower and Marion dropped me at the bus station to ride into Marseille. She put me on the slow bus, so 45 minutes later I arrived in the city, vs. the usual 10 (nice waste of time). I took a metro (which smelled like fish) to Veiux Porte (Old Port) and realized there is more than one definition of "douche": water closet, toilet, bathroom, etc... AND the fisherman who sent me on a wild goose chase to find the boat to Chateau If (Chateau d'If, from The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my all time favorite movies... I heart James Caviezel). Finally I found it, in the exact opposite direction they sent me, and had an hour to spare, so I found a great little cafe, Le Annexe, with tables strewn across a courtyard around a fountain. I basked in the sun with a Salade Norway (greens, chevre, tomatoes and smoked salmon). "Carla" took care of me, with her blunt, electric white bob and radically long fuschia nails... sexy smoker lungs still intact under her cashmere and black Tahitian pearls.
I jumped on the boat to the island and started writing in my journal. It was only about 60 degrees out in the sun, but people were sitting along the porte worshipping the melanoma... they looked like stretched out Oompa-Loompa's in stonewash cut-offs, with mits (man tits) and boobs for all to see. We came to te island, but the boat was swaying on the choppy water and the people around me stayed seated. So I, assuming this was general protocal, stayed seated as well, figuring they would announce when we could exit the boat.... until it took off! I rode to the next island and the crew tried to kick me off there.... "You don't understand- I am a stupid American that was supposed to get off at Chateau If..." That must have been the funniest thing they've heard in months because it was all they could do to not DIE from hilarity overload (yeah, laugh it up A-holes). So they took me up top to talk to the "Captain," he churned it over (I think he may have been a little sauced), and decided I could not only stay on the boat back to Marseille, but sit in the co-captains chair and drive (SOMEONE'S got to park this thing... was like playing with a giant Nintendo control). Suddenly, I was surrounded by "Antonio, Christian, Papa Russia, Domingo and Garry," serenading me..." Un vento di passione mi amoreeeee...” Mostly Italian and LOVING them some Whitlicious. They kept saying "Le Bitch" and I was like, "But you've only known me 5 minutes! That didn't take long..." They were saying THE BEACH... language barriers are oodles of fun. They offered to take me BACK to Chateau If, but I'd had enough marriage proposals for one day and wanted to get to the top of the city by sunset.
In another long courtyard, I felt inclined to sit outside "Simon's" cafe and enjoy a cappuccino. It must have been my server's first day because "Crystal," in a manner of speaking, sucked at her job. Luckily the "director" was nibbling on his herring and FREAKED out on her lack-o-service. If Ru-Paul and Rick James had a bastard child, it would be "Frank," pronounced Fronk. Long curly yellow hair, red cardigan and patent Prada loafers. The chef was sitting with him, smoking of course, and when he lept out of his chair in rage, I asked if he was the owner... "No. DIRECTOR." How important he must feel... "Crystal" brought me a shot of espresso in a cup with whipped cream spewing out... barf. Fronk promptly removed it after he watched me dump the whipped cream out and told Crystal he was going to kill she and her family. I assume. He brought me a real cappuccino as I opened and shut my journal, jotting down the cafe name and phone number, acting like I was more important than him... it worked because my waitress soon after came and sat at the table RIGHT next to me and inhaled a cigarette like a pixie stick, mascara streaming. Now I felt like an jerk, I never want to make anyone cry (well, it depends on the situation...) but they gave it to me for free, so I left her a euro. How nice am I?! Don't answer that...
I then hiked to the top of the city to Notre Dame. I began in a jacket and scarf and by the last stair I'd stripped down to a tank top ... people in full down jackets were pointing and laughing as I wiped sweat from my brow... "Just because your fat ass took the BUS up here..." I cannot even explain the view. 360 degrees of coast, mountains and city with limitless blue sky- breathtaking doesn't do it justice. After taking it in for an hour, I meandered down a tiny walkway to the coast (approx. 2 miles) and walked along the water to the center of the city to catch my bus back to Aubagne... I put in a good 10 miles on foot today, and they BOTH hate me for it. I couldn't wait to sit down. Simon and Adelaide picked me up at the station and back at the house, we consumed leftover lasagna, a version of salad nicoise, curried chicken, pain and fromage of course, and chocolates for desert. We all said goodnight early and hit the hay. I'll sleep like a black bear in hibernation...
Continue the adventure in Nice tomorrow... Au Revoir Marseille! Bonjour French Riviera!
Woke up to a beautifully sunlit, pink room (Adelaide’s) and went downstairs for breakfast. Simon and Marion were trying to get all the chillin ready for school- similar to herding cats. He offered me some cereal and coffee… I received two bowls. Confused by this, I thought one was a “waste bucket” for the orange I was peeling when I was supposed to use it for my coffee. Four spoonfuls of instant grounds+milk+sugar+hot H2o=bowl-o-caffeine. I enjoyed the portion actually, these miniture coffees have not been fullfilling my addiction. I've been craving a Venti skinny latte with espresso sextuplets and home made caramel... extra hot... Once everyone had left the house dragging, kicking and screaming (birth control...) besides Marion, I went on a run around the neighboring tree farms and private roads leading to stucco mansions. There was frost on the ground, but the sun was shining, so I braved JUST shorts (well, I had a sweatshirt on too... bare legs is what I was getting at...) and loved it. I felt like my lungs were on fire, and I know I'm out of shape, but not THIS bad! They were burning dead wood piles, so smoke inhalation was too blame. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
I grabbed a quick shower and Marion dropped me at the bus station to ride into Marseille. She put me on the slow bus, so 45 minutes later I arrived in the city, vs. the usual 10 (nice waste of time). I took a metro (which smelled like fish) to Veiux Porte (Old Port) and realized there is more than one definition of "douche": water closet, toilet, bathroom, etc... AND the fisherman who sent me on a wild goose chase to find the boat to Chateau If (Chateau d'If, from The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my all time favorite movies... I heart James Caviezel). Finally I found it, in the exact opposite direction they sent me, and had an hour to spare, so I found a great little cafe, Le Annexe, with tables strewn across a courtyard around a fountain. I basked in the sun with a Salade Norway (greens, chevre, tomatoes and smoked salmon). "Carla" took care of me, with her blunt, electric white bob and radically long fuschia nails... sexy smoker lungs still intact under her cashmere and black Tahitian pearls.
I jumped on the boat to the island and started writing in my journal. It was only about 60 degrees out in the sun, but people were sitting along the porte worshipping the melanoma... they looked like stretched out Oompa-Loompa's in stonewash cut-offs, with mits (man tits) and boobs for all to see. We came to te island, but the boat was swaying on the choppy water and the people around me stayed seated. So I, assuming this was general protocal, stayed seated as well, figuring they would announce when we could exit the boat.... until it took off! I rode to the next island and the crew tried to kick me off there.... "You don't understand- I am a stupid American that was supposed to get off at Chateau If..." That must have been the funniest thing they've heard in months because it was all they could do to not DIE from hilarity overload (yeah, laugh it up A-holes). So they took me up top to talk to the "Captain," he churned it over (I think he may have been a little sauced), and decided I could not only stay on the boat back to Marseille, but sit in the co-captains chair and drive (SOMEONE'S got to park this thing... was like playing with a giant Nintendo control). Suddenly, I was surrounded by "Antonio, Christian, Papa Russia, Domingo and Garry," serenading me..." Un vento di passione mi amoreeeee...” Mostly Italian and LOVING them some Whitlicious. They kept saying "Le Bitch" and I was like, "But you've only known me 5 minutes! That didn't take long..." They were saying THE BEACH... language barriers are oodles of fun. They offered to take me BACK to Chateau If, but I'd had enough marriage proposals for one day and wanted to get to the top of the city by sunset.
In another long courtyard, I felt inclined to sit outside "Simon's" cafe and enjoy a cappuccino. It must have been my server's first day because "Crystal," in a manner of speaking, sucked at her job. Luckily the "director" was nibbling on his herring and FREAKED out on her lack-o-service. If Ru-Paul and Rick James had a bastard child, it would be "Frank," pronounced Fronk. Long curly yellow hair, red cardigan and patent Prada loafers. The chef was sitting with him, smoking of course, and when he lept out of his chair in rage, I asked if he was the owner... "No. DIRECTOR." How important he must feel... "Crystal" brought me a shot of espresso in a cup with whipped cream spewing out... barf. Fronk promptly removed it after he watched me dump the whipped cream out and told Crystal he was going to kill she and her family. I assume. He brought me a real cappuccino as I opened and shut my journal, jotting down the cafe name and phone number, acting like I was more important than him... it worked because my waitress soon after came and sat at the table RIGHT next to me and inhaled a cigarette like a pixie stick, mascara streaming. Now I felt like an jerk, I never want to make anyone cry (well, it depends on the situation...) but they gave it to me for free, so I left her a euro. How nice am I?! Don't answer that...
I then hiked to the top of the city to Notre Dame. I began in a jacket and scarf and by the last stair I'd stripped down to a tank top ... people in full down jackets were pointing and laughing as I wiped sweat from my brow... "Just because your fat ass took the BUS up here..." I cannot even explain the view. 360 degrees of coast, mountains and city with limitless blue sky- breathtaking doesn't do it justice. After taking it in for an hour, I meandered down a tiny walkway to the coast (approx. 2 miles) and walked along the water to the center of the city to catch my bus back to Aubagne... I put in a good 10 miles on foot today, and they BOTH hate me for it. I couldn't wait to sit down. Simon and Adelaide picked me up at the station and back at the house, we consumed leftover lasagna, a version of salad nicoise, curried chicken, pain and fromage of course, and chocolates for desert. We all said goodnight early and hit the hay. I'll sleep like a black bear in hibernation...
Continue the adventure in Nice tomorrow... Au Revoir Marseille! Bonjour French Riviera!
Love the hairdo btw. Good thing you aren't shy! Are you finding any tall men??B.
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