West of the Town

Friday 29 November 2013

Yue leaves and joins me

Which when you say it out loud sounds a little confusing.

Now you will have guessed, by reading this, that "Yue" is not "You". So what or who is "Yue"?

There are 2 Chinese girls working at Valeo. They have been here longer than me, some 3 years, and they have now finished their studentship. So they are off to places new.

Danxi invited us all to a pôt de départ, and since I did not know what this was I googled it. "Warehouse departure" it said. Confused I asked Yves if it was a phrase in French, which he said it was, but without the "ô". As "pot de départ" it means "farewell drink". In this case snacks and juice.

Now Danxi has an interview on Monday but Yue already has a job with the subcontractor I work for. If Danxi gets the job, she will be there too. So Yue said to me, "we will be work colleagues", which is true. In the strange way life has of twisting things, Yue is leaving where I work and will become my work colleague.

So "Yue leaves and joins me", as I said.



Cordialement
Terence Westoby

Sunday 17 November 2013

Lunch

Here I am outside at a tapas restaurant in the next village (makes a change). As you can see I am the only one but it is more comfortable than inside. There is a patio heater just for me and I keep my coat on!

I returned for steak and chips. I tried on Saturday but ended up with a sort of sausage roll and chips. Decoding the menu I reasoned the correct dish was further down the list. Encouragingly it was also more expensive.

And so I had returned for my steak, second attempt.

Now a Spanish steak is not like a French or English one. None of this "how would you like it sir". It comes cut up and well cooked. So they don't even provide a knife.

Still steak it was and swimming in sauce. And it was better than a burger.

Cordialement
Terry

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Saturday night surprise

It was a quiet night. I entertained myself with a Spanish movie (on TV), I understood not a word, and with YouTube clips. All my favourite oldies are there.

Then, with no nighttime hot water available for a bath, I settled down to sleep. It was 10pm but the hotel bar was audibly active. I was just telling my brain to ignore it when the telephone rang.

The last time the phone rang it was an error. But I answered it anyway. "Terence?" Enquirer the voice, and when I had affirmed it, "please wait". So I did. A voice then announced that it was Antonio and perhaps I wanted to join them in the pub? Well why not? I was unlikely to sleep too well until later anyway.

There were 2 engineers from Valeo waiting for me outside. "We tried the town hotel, but you were not there" they said. "Where are your coats?" I asked - looking at them I felt over dressed, but feeling the cold wind I felt under dressed. Perhaps these Spanish people are very hardy? But no, they just left their coats in the pub and were warming themselves with alcohol as we walked.

The pub had a noisy tv playing pop songs from years ago and everyone shouted over it. I was introduced to people I knew from work, plus 2 wives, the latter kissing me on both cheeks in greeting.

"Rum or whiskey" they asked. When I realised it was not a joke, I ordered rum and coke. No beer drinking at this pub, although it was available. At about midnight the tv went blank (but not silent) and the coloured lights started spinning disco style. No one danced, we just had another drink. The place was far too packed to allow anything else.

Just when I was getting really hoarse trying to converse, people started to move to leave. We all decided to go and several of us walked up the hill past my hotel. I thanked them all for a pleasant evening and rang the hotel bell hoping to get in. It was 1am. The manager opened the door and appeared apologetic that I had had to wait 10 seconds. Their bar was now quiet and the chance of a good night loomed expectantly ahead.

So that's what the Spanish do for entertainment. It just starts at about 10pm.

Cordialement
Terry

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Attempted photo in difficult light conditions.

Chinese wedding in Paris

Some of you may know that in China they take photos first and then have the wedding. Terribly practical- it gets all the fuss out if the way and allows everyone to enjoy the day.

So, here in Paris, why be different?

I was taking a relaxing promenade in Central Paris, when I saw this couple on the "bridge of padlocks". For those of you who don't know, this footbridge over the Seine has a net side that permits padlocks to be attached. Street vendors will sell you one if you come unprepared. The idea is that 2 lovers write their names on the padlock, attach it to the bridge, and throw the keys into the river.

I suppose an archeologist in the distant future will wonder at the number of keys and I suspect propose the site of an ancient foundry. He could surely never guess the truth.

Neither, I suspect, do the couples guess that from time to time the gendarmerie come along and break off all the locks. It rather spoils the "eternity" idea of throwing away the key. Sensibly the French don't advertise this part of the "romance".

But presumably our Chinese couple are using the bridge for romantic reasons. The trouble is, it's November. At that is why the bride is wearing a black plastic anorak.

At last the photographer is ready and she bravely discards the coat. The wind had a bitter edge, and her wedding dress is backless. Still she smiles for the camera and a host of onlookers, including me, watch and admire her.

Hopefully the 2 photos attached will both arrive at the blog. Otherwise you will have to wait for the edit after I get home.

Cordialement
Terry

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