Woke up in a very dark room. It was 10 am. I recalled where I was and happily established that I had slept for 11-12 hours. Went upstairs and drank coffee for breakfast. I got
Woke up in a very dark room. It was 10 am. I recalled where I was and happily established that I had slept for 11-12 hours. Went upstairs and drank coffee for breakfast. I got to put my clothes in the washing machine and then hung them in the garden to be dried by the ocean wind.
We had a nice lunch, after which there was cheese. Then they gave me a key so that I could explore the town on my own. Sète was a charming little place with stairs and old churches. There was a fishing harbor in the middle of the city, giving everything a nice fishy smell. There was an octopus statue spurting water. There were immigrants. There was a poster of racist presidential candidate Le Pen on whose face someone had painted a Hitler moustache.
After walking the whole city I climbed the streets back up to the Lozenguez’ home. I spent some more time on the internet and got the latest news about my stepbrother’s stay at the hospital where his doctors’ were slowly reconquering his most basic functions from the chaos brought up on his body by the gravity of our planet in combination with the absence of fences and streetlights.
Then Jean-Marque’s friend came from England. We had ravioli for dinner, served with a special French kind of spirits that turned milky when mixed with water. This is the second French family I visit, the first being Thibaut’s family in Paris. 2 out these 2 families have the habit of serving cheese after each meal. I know that 2 is not a big enough sample to satisfy a statistician, but since these two families are randomly drawn from each side of the big country, I think I have a fairly strong indication on that all French families serve cheese after the meal. And wonderful cheese as well, 4 different kinds. They asked which one was the best and I had to taste all of them again and again and again to make up my mind. I forgot which one I chose, I think I have to taste them again. Jean-Marque and his friend Stephen met on a language-learning student exchange when they were teenagers. Since then they have met every year. Stephen had a look at my game. He didn’t seemed overly interested, but promised to set me in contact with lots of people once I make it to England.