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“Where do you do your shopping?”
“I get my clothes at El Cheapo and Chez Snob.”
Happy Year of the Pig
Yesterday we spend a good half of the day cleaning the house. I couldn’t possibly start the new year with the house looking like a pig (pun intended) sty, right? Afterwards, we called everyone back home – of course, you were all having a great feast. Know that while you will all be eating sumptuous meals and receiving hong-pao nonstop, we are thinking of you in France. (Hint! Hint!) Instead of going out to celebrate New Year’s Eve, we stayed home, made a mish-mash of Taiwanese and Thai fondue, and watched Marie Antoinette.
Wish I could be eating Taiwanese fondue…basking in Thailand’s hot weather…with everyone….
Happy Year of the Pig.
Writing is my therapy.
I first started this blog to record not only the joys but also the sorrows that life may bring me. I never thought that it would be so soon. Everyone has his/her way of handling unhappy events. I write nonsensically.
Earlier this morning I had a meeting near l’Opéra. On my way home, I stopped by Galleries Lafayette and got myself a Bellota sandwich, a pack of freshly sliced Bellota, and pastries from Sadaharu AOKI whose Japanese sales associate never smiles even if one buys 300 euros worth of macarons. As I walked out of the store I thought of finding a quiet place to sit and stare blankly at air. Instead I came home, and thought how lucky I am that in the face of all that upsetting news, I can still choose to cheer myself up with food.
I opened my packages of food and marvel at the fact that tonight I will have a lovely feast of raw flesh from a certain animal that ate wild acorns in Spain, a dessert of cow fat (butter) and green tea (millefeuille au thé vert), macaron fruits rouges (because a girl needs her red fruits vitamins when upset), and heart-shaped chocolate not because Valentine’s is only a few days away but I feel like biting into a heart – if that makes sense. I had to stop by a neighborhood bakery to get baguette since the Eric Kayser near my house is closed today. This is the first time I had been back to that place since two years ago as its service is appalling by any human standard. The baguette cost me 60 centimes. I gave the rude sales associate 70 centimes. She rudely gave me back 3 euros and 20 centimes. I took the change and danced all the way home. Serves her right for being rude to me. When I am sad, my heart inexplicably becomes darker than soy sauce.
But as I sat down to eat my sandwich, I realize I am surrounded by wonderful people such as the old lady who saved me a seat in the metro when she saw me guarding my box of AOKI pastries. That incident made me thought of the time when I bought a LARGE box of AOKI macarons from the unsmiling sales associate, and people in the elevator were making way for me as they were afraid of crushing my dessert. I admire the French’s respect for food. From now on, I shall carry a large empty dessert box when I am on the metro.
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