Le Snake, Le Lycanthrope

Last night, a bunch of us ladies went to L’Elfike to whoop it up. I drank a ridiculous amount of alcohol and survived to tell the tale. The drinks on their menu are crazy. After I had a pint of cider, I then had something called Le Snake, which I think has Creme de Cassis, beer and cider in it. I then drank something insanely yummy called Le Lycanthrope, and I’ll be damned if I remember what was in that. Then Special K’s boyfriend came by and he started buying rounds. As yummy as his drinks were, I couldn’t begin to finish them. Four cocktails in the three hours nearly put me under the table. (I think Drink #4 was called Le Tsunami, aptly enough.) Some of their cocktails have champagne and even mead. I wish I’d taken a photo of the menu, but I feared getting busted.

After one of the women announced she had a thing for Asian men, The Fabulous B took a surprisingly big mirror out of her purse and helped her use it to “discreetly” check out the Asian guy with long hair working the restaurants across the narrow street. She then announced that The Frenchman and I should have a baby girl so that she could be the godmother. Can you imagine?

Special K got a good kind of shock. When she went to the bar to ask if they sold cigarettes, the bartender offered her one of his own. She said that’s never happened in her life. I said, “See? I told you people here are sweet.” Because you can drink at 16 years old in France, young people come into the bar all the time. However, what’s adorable is that they are often drinking a Coke and reading science fiction and fantasy novels. I took several photos of the place with permission of the owner, but he only allowed me to photograph certain things and I promised I wouldn’t put them online, that they were just for my book, SECRETS FOR MELUSINE. However, if you’re curious, they have a Flickr account. (This one is a picture of the owner in a girlie sandwich.)

When it was over, The Fabulous B drove me home. The Frenchman took good care of his wobbly, underfed woman in her shameful condition and put her to bed.

A storm of biblical proportions is pummeling Provence, so I can’t do what I wanted to do today, which was continue my research in town. It’s just as well, since I’m a bit hung over. Tonight, another going away party. Eesh.


Yesterday morning I covered a lot of details for my return regarding my car and credit cards. I also went to Monoprix with a measuring tape. Tomorrow we’ll go to Carrefour, where The Frenchman says there are cheaper suitcases. I’ve decided the answer to my problems is to simply get as big of a handbag as allowable and put The Fabulous Coat, the laptop and Trog inside. Heck, maybe even a book or two! Woo!

I spent two hours at L’Elfike yesterday afternoon chatting with Ange. She had no idea there were so many haunted houses in the U.S. I thought I’d faint trying to do it, but I managed to tell her all about The Winchester House and Lizzie Borden…in French. (“Tu sais? Elle utilisais un grand couteau pour couper le bois et elle a tué son père et sa nouvelle mère.” “C’est une vrai histoire?” “OUI!”)

::wobbles dizzily::

More strategizing today. Tonight, dinner with The Fabulous B. I might go back to L’Elfike tomorrow evening while The Frenchman watches soccer, but I might just write, too.

Au demain!


Today, I took the ring to the very frou-frou jewelers today, Pellegrine. They might not be able to repair the ring. If not, we’re going to wait until I return to Los Angeles and take it back to Antiquarius.

Afterwards, I hung out at L’Elfike for a few hours, talking to my goth friend Ange. She helped me understand some of the sentiments towards the Arabic immigrants. Apparently, she’s been attacked and robbed on multiple occasions by young Arabs and the police won’t do anything about it. She works bad hours, too, making her especially vulnerable to this kind of violence. She’s very happy Sarkozy is in office because he wants to clamp down on immigration and, more importantly, create jobs. She told me that the older Arabic folk — those over 30 years old — were great people because they choose to learn the language and assimilate into French culture, but that the younger Arabs were a nightmare across the board. I discussed this with The Frenchman, and he believes the reason the younger people are committing crimes is because — hello! — they can’t get jobs due to discrimination and all the other economic problems. According to Ange, they’re only discriminated against because they refuse to learn the language and the customs. She asked me how I’d feel if someone came to the U.S. and refused to learn English whilst demanding social services and committing crimes. Honestly, it would be difficult for me to accept. The Frenchman and his colleagues, however, seem to believe it’s far more complicated than that. It’s always more complicated, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile, Ange is asking the owner permission for me to take photos of the interior of the bar. You have no idea how beautiful it is. These photos will not be on Flickr, as a promise to the owner, who fears their use in magazines trashing the gothic culture in his club (sound familiar, Los Angeles club owners?). They’re for my private research when I write SECRETS FOR MELUSINE. Ange seemed to dig the story premise a lot. I’m terribly grateful for her help.

Ange also introduced me to a real live pagan! Woo! His name was Mark, and he said there were maybe three or four pagans in all of the South. However, up north there were a great many pagans, especially in Brittany and Paris. Once a year, they hold an exposition with ceremonies so that pagans can meet one another. Sort of like Pantheacon in San Francisco.

And, yes, I had all of these conversations in French. It was exhausting.

Must do more writing before I fall over and sleep another night.