I still have a week to stay in Paris, although I have to change youth hostels tomorrow. It seems as if I've been in Paris so long that I belong here.
We had quite a conversation on the front steps of the hostel last evening. There were two Texans, one of whom speaks Spanish as a first language, a Dutchman, the Canadian-American who has been living in China for ten years, a Spaniard, who speaks fluent French as well as Spanish, and a few Germans wondered into and out of the conversation. Naturally, it was all fueled by bottles of cheap wine.
I went to bed about midnight and couldn't fall asleep until 1 a.m. I was at breakfast a 7 a.m. where I met the Dutchman. He didn't look well. He had stayed drinking wine and talking until the wee hours of the morning, and this morning he is hitchhiking back to Holland. I don't know if I'd want to be standing alongside the road with my thumb out with his hangover.
Today I need to buy some train tickets. -- Jack Quinn
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