12h10: The problem, when it rains and you've lost your umbrella is that you cannot go and buy a new one. Unless you live next door to the umbrella shop.
So I've dressed in black silky things, for a change (just received a new ebay skirt, I'm conscientiously trying it), and wait for the rain to stop.
I'll cook some breaded fish with French and butter beans for lunch, since it's almost the only thing I have left here (there I should put a picture of my lovely clean nearly empty fridge but... hell, and I still have plenty of pasta and rice but I want animal proteins and fibres, thank you). I do feel like getting to cook better. "Real" fish, for exemple, and not those "childish" kind of breaded stuff, eventhough I actually quite like it (and it doesn't smell).
A few days ago I finally got myself to install my 9 box tv decoder, it had been laying there for monhs, unused. I had a few billions and something tv channels at hands and didn't even bother giving it a try (I thought there was a missing wire but no). So now I can enjoy Nolife TV and even more the i-concerts channel, so I've just seen a very cool live of Michael by Franz Ferdinand. But this is only a try out offer ("try out"?): this channel will be gone by september 1st, unless I subscribe. Mmm. I'll think about it, I guess.
Charlie Winston's voice sounds quite anoying to my ears, I have to say.
Now there's a lady gaga thing. It reminds me of some of the weird disturbing stuff I've been introduced to this weekend:
Oh.
Yes. Well. Curious.
12:34: God, this is Johnny Halliday concert on i-concerts. Oh. Maybe with a voice-double singing backstage...
I'd rather go with that:
Bon, allez. Cuisine.
Slightly crisped, lovely.
17:10: So now let's speak of the reason for such a note-title. Mud.
I went to Zürich again this weekend and I thought it was a very clean city, you know, Switzerland, one of the richest city in the world, cleanness, spotlessness, absolutely no dog shit anywhere... In other words, perfect.
But sometimes it rains too. And in some places and surroundings of this city, there's grass and in some of those places, sometimes (especially on street parade day), people throw parties...
... and they are many to come (especially when it's free) and sometimes it rains at the same time and then, happens what happens everywhere else in the world. Mud.
So this is how I found myself, wearing my lovely new spotless tennis kind of shoes (purple canvas, lovely)... Paddling in mud, mumbling to myself "God, this is mud!" (I mumble in English when I'm in Zürich, yes), shocked to find such a substance there, in a place where there's usualy nothing to mumble about... Mumble, because I'm a princess kinda girl. And this is what those kinda girls do when they find themselves in such a muddy tight corner: mumble, yes. You know, those cinderella kinda girl: I'd rather clean mud than paddle in it. Seriously. And so, since it kept raining and people kept dancing, the mud became deep (well, to a Cinderella kinda girl, three centimeters deep mud is deep mud) and my shoes got totally wet and covered in mud and since they're not ment to get so soaking wet, they started to get unconfortable and then they started to hurt seriously.
And that was the big drama of the weekend (even worse than the fine I got on the train to the countryside..., because it had to happen, after so much sneaking, karma finally caught me).
But it was fun too. We danced a bit on Goa music under a tent and that was lovely. I had some vodka-lemonish kind of soda mix and that was lovely too. A guy who knew a lot about how to get by the damaging effects of acidity on the teeth offered me a sip of his rhum-sugar-lemon-litchi?-whatever kind of cocktail and that was lovely too.
Then I lost my umbrella god knows where and it kept on raining and it was getting cold and I was getting tired and I wanted a bed and... and... well... Home.
But seriously, there was an anoying thing, I admit: it is that I can't help being serious even when I'm slightly drunk. I cannot just go into the mud and dance under the rain and laugh about it all and not give a damn about how my feet may feel. No. Even with some vodka in my blood, I keep thinking. Or some may say "keep being aware of my environment/self/body interactions"? In other words I keep being serious, reasonable and... and... well, rather annoying.
So, the philosophy of it all (this story needs one), trips are trips: you get to see, think, encounter and feel odities on the way.
As I was waiting for my train in Geneva, on the Friday morning, while having another Starbucks "small" Americano, I noticed a woman who was passing in front of me, dressed as if about to go to her aerobics lesson somewhere in the 80's. And she stopped there and asked me if that was the plateform of the train to Zurich. And I said yes it is. And I'm French but yes I speak English and this is how I got to meet E & R, a lovely funny American couple who spend all of their holidays travelling around the world. And they were so happy and surprised to discover that some French people can actually speak some good English. I was proud, I can tell you.
We held tight together all the way to our common destination, yes.
When I arrived to my final destination (a bit different from the usual one, somewhere in the countryside, in a lovely little village), a few kilometers from town, we took a walk under the sun. There was some lovely grass, clouds, trees and road signs:
