this week i

ate a homecooked meal then slept a few minutes on one of two abandoned mattresses in ulisse's third bedroom before ayo drove us to the airport.  departing immigration officer asked me to buy him a coffee, i smiled broadly and repeated je non comprais pas as clumsily as possible.  touch down at noon, bags to the hotel with the pool, taxi to where i found realtors hanging out on the street november twenty sixteen.  where are the rental agents?  are you a rental agent?  i found pierre, i trusted pierre.  good friday, everything slow.  we toured what he could muster in one day that matched my hand-written list, nothing suitable.  back to the hotel, marlene looked nice for me and couldn't help but smile.  we ordered room service, ptfo.  woke before dawn, still unsettled, reserved on airbnb, called pierre to apologize, and that was the end of it.

paid a taxi six dollars to get as close as recollection allowed. searched my telephone during the cab ride and google said, "you visited here one year ago" to a familiar-on-the-map breadshop on the skeletal electronic road.  bingo, but still a mile away.  little rivers of plastic blocked the vehicle so continued on foot alongside children shrieking, "the white" in the early evening.  found my way to eric who recognized me, was amazed, invited me for a big beer or a small beer.  his friend delphin talked politics and shook my hand whenever he agreed with something i said.  a warm evening.