Day 25: I won my weight in free fruit.

Did I start the day differently than with coffee and orange juice? No, definitely not. My routine is now etched in stone. I will say though that, even though I have not gotten tired of it yet, I do miss my dad's rockin' lattes.

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Heading to the first stop for the daily discovery of the next arrondissement (i.e. the 11ème), I could sense that the lull of the metro was becoming a part of my being. La Cour de l'Industrie was this historical building that was inspired by typical Dutch architecture in that the wooden beams were visible from the outside. Vibrant green ivy spread over the walls, and I couldn't help but wonder what it once was like. Changing spots, we headed to the Musée du Fumeur which is conceptually weird but simultaneously fascinating. I found the fact that the interior design felt like a punk kid's shabby logement to be quite on par with the theme. Intentional? Probably not... During the museum visit, I did acquire a headache which i genuinely think was from the aroma of the place itself. I hope this only invigorates your need to visit this treasure.

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Next was the Atelier des Lumières which was entirely booked for the day. All that means is that this name will pop up again with the experience described in detail so I will say no more on the subject now.

Then a walk past Yemma Office (if you remember my experience during the first week or so) and I had food heaven flashbacks. Unknowingly, I have to some degree already traversed the 11ème. I love when this town becomes more and more familiar.

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We passed the Maison des Métallos where Jean-Pierre Timbaud was featured in the window and gave his name to the street: Rue J.P. Timbaud. Apparently, the street wakes up at night and is full of funky cafés and pedestrians having a good time.

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On our way to Place de la République, we passed through this street market that had practically already closed shop for the day (close to Ober Mamma, the restaurant from the beginning). Towards the end there was one booth left with many fruits stacked high. I stared longingly, not planning to buy anything. But, the coolest things always happen when you least expect them to. The sellers trapped us, showing their fruit off. So fresh and vibrant, it was clear they wanted to sell it all as it would not be acceptable to sell the next day. The fruit is fresh...come on it's France!

By the end of our interaction, the man from Egypt sold me 2 kilos of cherries, a bushel of green apples, a quarter of a watermelon, and a pineapple all for the high price of...5 EUROS.

WHAAATTTT!? How is it possible you ask? I leave you with the fact that I was called beautiful more times than the unit price I paid for the fruit...

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The next thought is "HEAVY." I could not carry this with me for much longer; I knew I needed to stop home before class and that is exactly what I did. Taking the metro with my obnoxiously large bag of fruit, I could not have been more content. Lugging my winnings into the house required much strength and much sweat despite the cooler weather outside.

Reapportioning the fruit to take with me as a snack to Reid Hall, I had about 30 minutes before I had to report for duty. I savored each cherry and square of chopped watermelon that slid down my throat, knowing I had a LOT more where it came from.

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After class, I took some time in the Reid Hall courtyard as the evening sun warmed my body and all I could feel was bliss.

Heading home alone as Anna had a rendez-vous to make for her project, I found the bustle of the streets entertaining yet distant. I was in my own world.

Deciding it was a night for a bar, we went to this place called Marlusse et Lapin that pulls inspiration from your grandmother's living room. Yes, I am dead serious. Seats included a tub with half of it cut out to become a classy lounging place and a bed with a piece of vertical wood cutting it in half the long way to create places to sit and drink on either side. I ordered a Sex on the Beach and Anna ordered a Mint Julep.

What can we say? We go hard on a Tuesday night.