9 a.m.
I had THE most dreadful night of sleep last night. Awake most of the night and feeling quite wound up, as if I was having withdrawal from drugs (without having taken said drugs), and wrestling with some emotional angst, and feeling a bit desperate. Today, I just need to make it through the day. This morning Jacqueline put my breakfast on the table and sat and ate hers without a word being spoken. She, too, was up and down last night. We are now each in our respective chambers. It is now raining in torrents and I'm wondering what I will do for lunch. (She is only obligated to provide me with breakfast and dinner.) This is one of those days where I feel like I'm on tenterhooks with her. I just need to remember two of The Four Agreements: never assume, and don't take anything personally.
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1:30 p.m.
I have just finished updating my blog with photos and commentary from yesterday, and have taken a long, hot shower after having managed to get myself on the yoga mat. Although it really feels like more than I want to do, I might shop for a new blouse today (tired of wearing one of the same four for the last 14 days). And if not that, I am at least going to get some lunch.
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5:30 p.m.
I have had a most lovely afternoon. It began to rain again, just before I left, and I donned my raincoat and decided to head to the old part of the city. I took myself to a restaurant and decided that, unlike every other day so far, I would have a "real" lunch. I ordered an aperitif — muscat Frontignan, along with moules mouliniere and frites, and for dessert I had an espresso and mousse chocolat. Yum, yum, yum, and yum.
After lunch it had stopped raining, but it was dank and overcast. Walking along, I came to a square where about 15 young people, all dressed in Breton-like blue and white striped shirts, and Breton caps, were playing the most irresistible music. They were playing music with very complicated and catchy Latin rhythms and were moving and dancing to the music as they played trombones, saxophones, a clarinet, tuba, a drum and various percussion instruments. Of course I couldn't resist tossing a couple of Euros into the hat on the ground, and there were smiles all around, as little children, Japanese tourists, a woman in a hajib, and various others stepped forward to offer their coins as well. I stood and swayed to the music for at least a half hour, feeling such joy — like I was a part of something greater than myself and that I was in a place where I belonged.
Eventually I tore myself away and began walking through the narrow winding streets to look for a blouse, but, rather than shopping for clothes, I ended up in the most amazing toy store. Oh my. So very, very charming. Wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling butterflies, and puppets and music boxes and sailboats and cabinets full of teeny, tiny dolls and furniture and cabinets of teddy bears and gadgets and card games and a room full of magic and one full of wind up robots and another a museum of old, old toys. I spent about two hours there. One cramped little room led to little nooks and crannies and opened up into other little rooms.
I always like to bring my family back some souvenirs and I found a little something for everyone at the store. They asked me if these were gifts and I said yes, and so a very kind, elderly, white-haired gentleman patiently and carefully wrapped each and every one. It took him quite some time, and as he wrapped, he would look up as new customers entered the store and offer a "bonjour," and every once in a while he would look over at me and give me a smile. Music was playing — I could only describe it as Edith Piaff at 10 years old — which added to the charm, and, behind him were jewellery boxes, and over his head, there were moons and stars hanging from the ceiling, marionettes and puppets, and and displays of golden angels and carousels circulating over the heat of little light bulbs, and as he wrapped, I discovered a couple of other little treasures and added them to the pile. As I said, these are more "souvenirs" — some things to let my family know I was thinking of them — nothing terribly elaborate, but I hope they will be enjoyed. I think the real gift was to myself, having so much fun in such an enchanting place.
What began as a sleepless night and difficult morning has been transformed into a magical afternoon.
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