Still no word from Mr. Irish. It's been two weeks, classes start next week, and still no word. I've been warned that the job-hiring process in France is slow, and since I'm not a patient person and a worry-wart by nature, I'm thinking the worst. If I haven't received a phone call by the end of the week, I suppose the jig will be up. No wonder I'm not sleeping so well.
In other Where the hell did everybody go? news, I walked over to the AATM to find out if French classes have started back up and to get an idea of the schedules, and there was nobody there, despite the sign posted on the door that told me I had arrived at a time when there should be someone there. I hate to bother the professor with a phone call, so I'm torn between just calling her to find out what the deal is and just going back to the office tomorrow.
In the meantime, I've purchased a book called L'Histoire de France: pour les nuls (The History of France for Dummies), which was a recommendation from KylieMac. I'm slowly plodding through it with my English-French dictionary at hand.
From The Food Desk, I can report that I've discovered pain au sept céréales, or bread with seven grains, which is like a mueslix bread. It's heavenly with a bit of La Vache Qui Rit (or as Americans know it, The Laughing Cow) cheese spread on top. It's the closest I've come to finding an everything bagel with cream cheese.
From The Outdoors Desk, now is the time for mushroom hunting. Last week, Steph and I headed to our local neighborhood forest and came out with about a kilo of mushrooms called trompettes de la mort, or "trumpets of death." Steph insisted on cooking up the whole batch and eating it for dinner, which resulted in one of us having a terrible stomachache for the rest of the evening (hint: it wasn't me).
And finally, from the long dormant The Strangest Thing I Saw Today Desk: as I was waiting in line at the boulangerie for the aforementioned heavenly bread, I spied a young lady ordering up a few items with her pet rat clinging to her collar. I can't help but wonder if French pet rats take a bit of brie with their baguette at lunchtime.