Cheeks came to visit me in Paris last week, as you may have read in a previous post (or not, because there weren't photographs accompanying it, therefore, it is uninteresting. Am I not right?) Was it only last week? Seems like a year ago. This is how glad I am to have him out of the city -- if only for precautionary purposes. The boy is a fragile tyke, but now he is safely installed at a family friends' in Lyon, racking up their telephone bills with superfluous calls to my cell phone. I'm jealous, because I've never been -- and I'm sure the weather in the south is quite lovely this time of year. Anyway, while he was here, I tried my best to play hostess for a boy who didn't speak the language and his surroundings, but with a bakery job, it's difficult to introduce the nightlife -- being tired all the time. Hopefully he still got to enjoy Paris as much as I've come to enjoy it. . . despite the speedbumps.
On Saturday afternoon we went to le jardin de Shakespeare in Bois du Boulogne -- A quaint little outdoor theatre that I discovered last winter while walking around the bois. There was a stage, barricaded by a hedge, trees everywhere, flowers, and plaques with quotes from the masterpieces of Mr. Shakespeare surrounding the main stage and audience. We munched on grapes and cheese while the actors shouted in French at us & we tried to figure out why Scapin was making horse noises. It was great.
After the show we saw prostitutes with large breasts standing around the streets of the forest. Nice.
Damn you, Maison de la truffe.
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