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Coffee

I’m not used to living on my own. I’ve never done it before. I’ve always lived at home and there’s always been people there. I can’t deal with being on my own, especially not at home. When my parents leave me alone for the weekend, I get so bored I start doing washing, and cleaning, and other housework. It’s shocking.

So it’s not surprising that I get bored being in my apartment on my own – therefore I try to get out as much as possible. Yesterday I made plans with a guy in my class, Stephen, to go get a coffee. So we decided we’d meet in Starbucks on Rue de la Republique, at five.
Grand, I google Starbucks Rue de la Republique and find out that it’s at number two.
Hop on my métro (I’ll talk about metros some other time, they’re cool) and am there within ten minutes. At this point it’s only half four so to kill some time I wandered off to a French bookstore. I could read a French book.
No, really, I could. I was considering buying some ‘romans’ because it would help improve my French (as I mentioned in the last post, I’m not using it much) and it would give me something to do when the internet stops working (as it is prone to doing the last few days, grrrr….)
Anyways, while I was in the bookshop, I noticed the Twilight Saga in French. They have pretty cool names in French, actually. They don’t relate to the English names, but rather emotions, which is cool. They’re called
Fascination (Twilight)
Téntation (New Moon)
Hésitation (Eclipse) and
Révélation (Breaking Dawn).
So that was kind of cool. In any case, at this point I decided I’d head to Starbucks and pick up a frappuccino and wait there for Stephen, so off I go.
My GOD, the queue. It was out the door. They had a Starbucks guy with a handheld computer to take the orders so that people wouldn’t be waiting too long.
Of course, when he took the orders, he asked for a name, which led to some hesitation on my part.
“Ton prénom?”
“Uh, Aislinn”
“Ashley?” And he types it into his machine like that. A little bemused, I figure this is easier than spelling my name for him, so I nod, and say whatever, but he’s clearly smart, ’cause he’s seen my hesitation.
Promptly deletes Ashley and asks me for my name again. Aislinn, says I, and then go to spell it, only to realise that I have totally forgotten my letters.
Well honestly now, I learned how to spell my name in French when I was 11. How am I supposed to remember it now? That was ten years ago!
In any case, after a second of ABJECT TERROR that I don’t know how to spell my own name, the letters come back, so that was that hurdle overcome.

Anyways, I got my vanilla frappuccino, which was, in essence, a badly blended vanilla milkshake only hugely expensive, and sat down at a table which had a view of the window.
Ten minutes pass… twenty, and at this point I’m struck by horror and doubt. What if he doesn’t actually want to meet for coffee? What if he deliberately sent me to Starbucks to spend money on a ridiculously expensive milkshake and is actually at home laughing at how foolish I was?
But I dismiss those thoughts, because Stephen’s mad sound, and ponder what other possible explanation there could be. My frappuccino is gone at this point and I’m bored of sitting in Starbucks, so I figure I’ll go for a walk.
Down Rue de la Republique I go, keeping an eye on the shops on either side of me and staring wistfully at the people wandering past me with candyfloss (I never figured out where that was coming from, I couldn’t see barbe à papa written anywhere!!). As I reached the very end of Rue de la République (remember I was at number two!), about ten minutes walk later, I see, nestled in between two other shops, another starbucks.
Ah. That would explain it.
Easily solved, one might say, except that neither Stephen nor I had the other person’s number.
Still, it got me out of the apartment and it was an interesting walk!

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