Friday. You know what that means: profuse drinking and total dissolution of all boundaries. Naturally, the people of Saint-Pierre la Mer live and drink by this philosphy as well.
I had just barely gotten used to the idea of having the day off, when I had to drag my sorry self back into that kitchen - or rather, into that back room in the kitchen. The pile of dishes had already risen to insurmountable odds that all relief efforts in the world seemed futile. It almost seems like they have the meaning of the word 'volunteer' had been falsely translated into 'à volonté' when it comes to work. Just as I've finished drying the last inox plate, in comes the chef with another order of leftover meat and a side of gravy. But, like a good soldier, I suck it all up and churn out fresh plates. And I do say fresh, not clean as the quality of my dishwashing has gone down considerably. I'm not at all surprised or even concerned about that fact. In my eyes, work that goes unpaid does not deserve the same amount of effort as work that does get paid. You can think of this as you like.
The only thing I had to look forward to was tonight. Tonight we were all going to the Charley's Bar, which is in fact the only place left in the entire town. Guess that's just another downside of going on vacation when everybody else has long since left. Still, I don't mind the quiet and the emptiness of the beach and the surrounding areas. I crave it from time to time.
Sometimes the air gets tense around here as I know that not everybody gets along quite well with one another and I find myself in the position of intermediary. Which is not to say that everybody likes me, I mean, I don't know that. I don't feel like I'm opposed to anyone here, but there's always the off-chance that someone's just faking kindness. But, what I don't know, can't hurt me. I think. Sometimes.
The truth is, I do long for Tuesday when I can be on my way home again. Not that I don't like it here, I just miss the familiarity of my surroundings at home. I miss sleeping in my own bed, walking around my house and being close to the people I love. It also sucks that because of the crappy train time tables, I'm going to miss the first day of school. Who would've thought I'd want to go to school? It took me by surprise as well.
Another thing I did today besides silently resenting the kitchen personnel for sending me all these dirty dishes and evading the searing hot sprinkler dangling above my head, was visit l'Oeil Doux. This is in fact a mountain that has collapsed on itself after erosion from within. What remains is this huge vertical cliff with debris scattered all across the area and two large cracks diagonal across the remaining wall. As I've said before, photos will be posted as soon as Wednesday night. But when the time comes, I'll let you know!
So, after exploring yet another exiting part of France, it's time to familiarize myself with the French liquor department. Which, in this case, meant drinking a whole lot of rhum and coke as I'm not that big a fan of wine and beer. We arrived at the bar around 1 pm and I was immediatly confronted with the French's intolerance to alcohol and their general balance deficit. Of course I'm talking about drunken girls stumbling across the dancefloor, spilling their drinks everywhere except where it would've made a difference and planting their elbows in other people's sides. Your typical Friday night, I'm guessing. The music itself was largely local so there wasn't much room for sing-along or even the slightest hint of recognition. As the night wore on and the booze kept flowing steadily - the rhum increased drastically while the coke subsided - our group became quite a sight to see. Some standing on tables, others barely able to stand on their own two feet and then there were the token sober people who were in charge of taking care of the inebriated. My bed started calling me around 2 pm, but I only answered its call by half past 5. By the time we got to the hotel, the two drunk people in our company were starting to get sober again - or so we thought. Cut to people running in the hall, screaming and waking up an entire floor as well as those same two people slamming into a wall, crushing a keychain in the process. Again, typical Friday night/Saturday morning behaviour. Well, I think I'm going to turn in now and let you decide whether I was:
a) one of the sober people,
b) or one of those two people who thought they could take down a wall.
Maintenant c'est à vous!
As for me, I had to go back to my claustrophobia-inducing room without a view and work my way through yet another pile of dirty dishes - surprise! But in the next room, they were short one dishwasher, so after about an hour, I had to go over there and pitch in. It seemed as though the day would never end.
Sadly, everybody else's plans included baking in the sun by the pool. All in all, that's not such a bad idea, but I was actually kinda looking forward to getting out of there one last time. So, I took a little trip by myself. I took a bike and rode along the Canal du Midi. A nice little route, completely deserted. Heaven. 
On my way back, I stopped at l'Oeuil Doux one last time, just to see it in daylight, instead of under a cloudy sky. And when I was down by the lake, I took the opportunity of kicking out my shoes and dipping my toes in the fresh water. Doesn't get any better than that.
