A Saturday Night Fog
It was Saturday night. We'd ridden 21 kilometers on a bike trail along the Rhone River, all along looking forward to dinner at our favorite kebab shop with our friends, Micah and Andrea, and their out-of-town visitors. We got home from our adventure with just enough time to shower and meet our friends down the street, but as we were about to walk out the door, Jordan's phone rang.
Remember how I described our life abroad as always wondering if we're on the right trail? This is another example of why the feeling of being in the dark has become a bit of the norm for us.
Jordan's phone rang; it was Micah. "So, the kebab shop is closed tonight," he said disappointedly. "Unless you know of another good spot in Aix, we're heading home to Grenoble where we know of another one."
Why does this always happen to us? we asked ourselves. This isn't the first time, especially with this particular restaurant, especially with these particular friends.
We were too tired and hungry to drive the hour to Grenoble for kebabs so Jordan and I decided to go out for pizza instead. Seeing it was only 6pm, we forced ourselves to wait before leaving for Chez Ricardo so as to not arrive at the very minute they opened. You see, most restaurants in France don't even open until 7. We were thankful that this restaurant opened at 6:30.
Upon our arrival, just before 7pm, we noticed there was a band setting up for the evening. Great! A concert while we eat! we thought. We tentatively walked through the darkened doors of the restaurant to see only the staff and band on the other side.
"May we eat?" we asked the man behind the counter. "We're actually full tonight," he explained. "We don't have any more tables, unless you have a reservation." We frowned. "Even now?" we asked, looking at the empty restaurant. He hesitated then called for another staff member. "We can serve you now," they said, "but we only have pizza or lasagna because of the special concert tonight." No problem - we were only after pizza.
We sat awkwardly at a 2-person table pressed up against the bar. The Celtic Hangover continued to practice and run sound-tests as we waited for our pizzas.
What is our life? we marveled. Is today a holiday that we didn't know about? we wondered. No, it wasn't a holiday. We just live in France. A foreign land with a foreign tongue. Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we know what's going on, but most times, it's just like our restaurant experiences on this Saturday night; we only have a slight clue.
Remember how I described our life abroad as always wondering if we're on the right trail? This is another example of why the feeling of being in the dark has become a bit of the norm for us.
Jordan's phone rang; it was Micah. "So, the kebab shop is closed tonight," he said disappointedly. "Unless you know of another good spot in Aix, we're heading home to Grenoble where we know of another one."
Why does this always happen to us? we asked ourselves. This isn't the first time, especially with this particular restaurant, especially with these particular friends.
We were too tired and hungry to drive the hour to Grenoble for kebabs so Jordan and I decided to go out for pizza instead. Seeing it was only 6pm, we forced ourselves to wait before leaving for Chez Ricardo so as to not arrive at the very minute they opened. You see, most restaurants in France don't even open until 7. We were thankful that this restaurant opened at 6:30.
Upon our arrival, just before 7pm, we noticed there was a band setting up for the evening. Great! A concert while we eat! we thought. We tentatively walked through the darkened doors of the restaurant to see only the staff and band on the other side.
"May we eat?" we asked the man behind the counter. "We're actually full tonight," he explained. "We don't have any more tables, unless you have a reservation." We frowned. "Even now?" we asked, looking at the empty restaurant. He hesitated then called for another staff member. "We can serve you now," they said, "but we only have pizza or lasagna because of the special concert tonight." No problem - we were only after pizza.
We sat awkwardly at a 2-person table pressed up against the bar. The Celtic Hangover continued to practice and run sound-tests as we waited for our pizzas.
What is our life? we marveled. Is today a holiday that we didn't know about? we wondered. No, it wasn't a holiday. We just live in France. A foreign land with a foreign tongue. Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we know what's going on, but most times, it's just like our restaurant experiences on this Saturday night; we only have a slight clue.
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