But he did fix it, and we kicked back for the evening, finishing off the first season of Treme on DVDs -- love that show!
And today, restored, I've managed to finish my Research Leave report, mark a stack of essays, and begin prepping the next assignment for my literature class, the last assignment I have to prepare this term (save the exams, which I don't have to get to for a few weeks).
The 20th is much more "real," housing a broad mix of immigrants alongside the gentrifying artists and young people trying to catch a break on housing costs. Certainly, it can be rough around the edges, but we savoured its sights, sounds, and aromas one Saturday in April. We even struck up a lovely lunchtime conversation with an Algerian-Parisian and his Guatemalan wife (she acknowledged being such a rarity, as a Guatemalan in France, that she laughingly speculated to being one of 18!) who bought me a kir royal after I admired its pretty colour when their elderly Algerian friend drank his. And we had an expanse of time to chat, as our single waiter rushed to serve at least 40 of us seated on sidewalk tables, perhaps another 20 or so inside. Across the street, a market offering vegetables, meats, and a plethora of antique/vintage/rummage items beckoned . . . a lively din from the crowds was the perfect accompaniment to our meal.
Later, wandering the streets, how charming to spot these figures, especially the cats which appear to stroll the sidewalks.