Yesterday was a much easier day of travel from Rouen to Luxembourg—took the train. We did not crash into any buildings.
After so many days of going, I took the day off. My only reason for getting up and dressed was breakfast and phone charger—I forgot to bring my converter for the outlets. The other hotels had USB ports, but this one did not. Glad to have brought my battery pack to charge the phone last night.
After returning to the hotel, I did the only logical thing: took a nap. Then got up and worked on a short story, Execution Day, which I hope will be part of a collection of short stories that I’ve been working on—Seven Deadly—although there will be more than seven stories, and they will not all be too deadly.
At one point, as I sat here in my PJs and writing, I got a bit chilly. I do not have a robe or slippers with me, so did the best I could. The result: me sitting in my PJs, wearing my overcoat (which I’m very glad I brought) and my hiking boots.
After such hard work, it was time for some food. I went for something completely different and will likely be sitting up in bed all night because my white-bread American stomach doesn’t handle spicy food too well, but it was so very good.
The meal…
I had no idea what I was ordering, so relied on my very kind host to help me out. I had at first wanted to attempt one other dish, but it had three 🌶️🌶️🌶️ beside it. My host said it wasn’t possible to make it milder, so we agreed on a dish with 🌶️🌶️, and he said he could get it down to 🌶️. It was perfect! Timmuri with Sichuan pepper, onion, ginger, garlic, and Nepali spice. I added some lamb to get a bit extra. The nan was with garlic. He had me first try the Cobra beer from India (after getting it, I remembered that I had it once before in Lisbon) and then he said I must try a Nepalese beer… excellent. Much more carbonation and natural taste.
This is just an American talking here, but… it seems that when you eat out in various countries, if you eat at a “local” restaurant, you’ll likely get good food, but the attitude that comes with it really puts me off—they’re doing you a favor by deigning to have you seated in their establishment. However, if you choose an ethnic restaurant, well, like you, they are the foreigners. They know what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land and so, to me, they are so much kinder and helpful. Look, I willingly admit, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and I sure as heck don’t know what I’m ordering, so when you ask, “What do you recommend?” the locals will roll their eyes, but the foreigners like you will smile and be so very helpful. Something about it in Leviticus (perhaps 19:33-34) but I won’t get preachy.
There is a park behind my hotel that I can see from the window…
…so on the way, in an attempt to walk off some of that meal, I took a stroll. Beautiful flowers that my brother would be disgusted with me if I didn’t stop and smell. So, for the brother…
And don’t forgetting be the babbling fountain:
As I stood next to the water, these two came cruising by…
The last two days have been the most relaxing of the expedition (although I’ve loved it all—except maybe for the long bus trip, but I did get to see the Eiffel Tower and I was in Paris), and on several occasions, I have caught myself smiling for no dang reason at all. Those around me probably think they have a crazy person on their hands, but… No… just me. It is a good feeing to smile for no reason at all.
I think I’ll work on my short story for a bit longer, then do some reading. I’m very much into Haruki Murakami these days and have been working through 1Q84, which is delightfully Murakami.
Candle in a Cave 