Today the police arrested the Indian man that sells me 4-5 avocados for 2 euros in front of the cite universitaire. My heart almost broke into avocado seeds.

On a different note, the crazy stories I am not telling are becoming cliched by my chronic exposure to craziness at an astounding rate...

a la fille du metro et les filles d'ailleur

on s'est vu il y a exactement une semaine dans le metro, ligne 6. Rappelle-toi comment nos mains se sont aprochees subtilement l'une vers l'autre et on s'est touche, ni vu ni connu. Je m'attendais de te voir tous les jours apres mais tu n'es plus venue. Je m'attends de te voir toutes les semaines apres mais aujourd'hui t\y n'etais point. Je m'attendrai de te voir tous les mois, sinon, les ans et les decades qui feront parte de ma vie et la tienne aussi. Avec le temps on oublie le visage mais non pas les plus chouettes rencontres.

"Tu es aveugle. Je suis sourd-muet. Que ta main touche la mienne et que la communication soit". -- Gibran Khalil

Aujourd'hui j'ai envie de disparaitre, de m'enfuir, d'epanouir si cela n'est pas deja le cas. Essaie de me joindre telephoniquement et tu verras que je suis absent, essaie de m'envoyer un mel avec quelques mots et tu verras qu'ils seront perdus dans le neant de l'infosphere, essaie de me trouver en personne et si t'y arrives jamais, dis-moi ou je suis.

desayuno real

A mi no me gusta la gordura -- me cae gorda. Sin embargo al avogado no puedo resistir y tampoco a su variaciones gastronimicas como cuando en un bocadillo con peru o pollo o milkshaked con azucar o miel, pero nunca imagine un bocadillo de avocado y jamon iberico o serrano en el pan frances semillano ayyy que delicia!

A muchos parece una locura como cuando insine el calzon de mozarella y chocolate a los italianos y difidentemente urlaban MA CHE CAZZO FAI pero  a probarla olvidaran las dudas...

Bureaucracy followup ad infinitum

Finally, with a written permission from my General Practitioner, stamped signed and translated, I was allowed  to join the sports and Tango program at the cite universitaire.

I thought I should not waste a single day after the week I sacrificed for bureaucracy so I wore my swimming suite and rushed to the pool very excited.

Suddenly, I learn from a staff member that I am not allowed to the pool and for two reasons, not only one! WTF?

First, the bonnet is required for everyone regardless of hair length or gender. Second, non of my two short swimming suits met the standards for the French pools. I laughingly asked for a reasoning from an immigrant staff member thinking he will sympathyse with my shock and rediculize that theatre of absurdity. However, the man firmly confirmed that tighter swimming suites are more suitable for hygene. Again WTF? Are they worried someone might smuggle some organic disposal between his balls or are they suspecting a bivillus infiltration and bifurcation in their quarter olympic pool???


Apart from the mysterious laws that govern such a putatively romantic city and from my healing from the paris syndrom, there is some charm in the open-endedness of such a huge city tjat never sleeps

When rats guarded ancient prostitutes

I am stunned by the wiki fact that my hospital  office in the immunology, immunopathology and immunotherapie lab was once prison for prostitutes and home for rats and I am not sure what to make out of the gunpowder factoid, possibly immunition for the rats guarding the prostitutes?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piti%C3%A9-Salp%C3%AAtri%C3%A8re_Hospital

pic of my office

Bureaucracy and shitocracy

Bureaucracy in France has reached a surreal state that is laughably beyond being deplorable and the very term begs for being redefined urgently. I really have no other choice than to visit the 100th bureau office) for the 1000th signature, that unless signed carefully within the barely visible inner green signature borders, my submission will be re-rejected.

I enter every bureau with all my forms and proofs of existence but with great hesitance declaring: ca fait une semaine que j'essaie... or ca fait 3 semaines que je cherche...

one of the most mysterious forms is a birth certificate which cerifies nothing more than being born in a certain hospital somewhere. I wonder how could a being come to existance if not ever born with the putative exception of being Jesus Christ. All cerificates must be translated to French and signed separately with photos, stamps, signatures and all unreasonable hassles.

one other ridiculous form is required from my GP to prove that I have no physical or medical issues that impede me from dancing Tango. I see it takes two to Tango even before one Tangoes.

Pauvre riche

C'est bien possible en france de mourir de faim avec une piece de 500 euros dans la poche parce que personne ne l'accepte, ni les banques et ni le marches. Donc j'ai du m'empreter 10 euros aujourd'hui parceque j'avais trop faim.

j'ai note que la fille qui m'observait de la fenetre en face hier, se defilait en lingerie dans sa chambre aujourd'hui. J'avoue qu'elle le faisait expres. J'imagine elle est francaise.