I am regressing, I think. Yesterday, I had to spend the entire day at a training session (on a business process modelling tool: yes, it is as boring as it sounds) and, as an act of rebellion, I spent most of the time ICQ-ing with my best friend Marta, and the rest of the time - instead of using the collaborative computer tool as instructed - I hid funny little comments that would occasionally pop up on the projection screen. In addition to utter boredom, the other source of this childish behaviour was the need to distance myself from my colleagues - the aforementioned cockfighters. It amazes me how arrogantly embrace themselves as the "settled, late thirties males with a business school degree and a big ego (and a small???). I don't mind being "the junior" (in fact, I have no experience in this field) or even doing some admin crap, but I refuse to be treated as an inferior and subjected to their unjustified arrogance. Especially when I went to better schools and speak more languages better. But I won't let that be felt because, unlike them, I am not one to brag about my degrees (anyone ever heard of HEC, a business school in Paris?). Instead, I pretend that I am back in primary school and behave like a naughty pre-adolescent. Great.

Enough of this. Last weekend was cool, as planned I managed to capitalize on my pseudo-friendships: Sammy took me to a really beautiful flamenco performance and Mathieu took me to a very special cinema, called the Pagode (a highly ornate, very authentic looking Chinese pagoda) to see (fittingly) 2046, a Chinese movie. (Ode to the motorcycle part 3: he picked me up with his Vespa. No need to repeat, but I will: motorcycling around Paris is a priceless experience.)

Another interesting one for people on the lookout for strange scenes:

"Saturday night, 2 a.m., fancy apartment in Paris, two girls and a guy, a little drunk are discussing the American elections. The doorbell rings and a slightly embarrassed young man of about 25, dressed in a suprisingly nerdy looking beige suit (in sharp contrast to the funky just-out-of-bed hairdo) asks:
- Where is the girl?
- What girl? - responds the woman who opened the door (the only one of the three in the flat who can speak French)
- The girl who is supposed to be my cavaliere, I need to take her to this party next door.
- I am clearly not that girl...not sure what to tell you, maybe you should try the next floor.
- Hmm, um, well...it does not matter. Perhaps you would like to come with me? And your friend maybe? - pointing to the blonde woman who was, by now, standing right behind the brown haired francophile one.
The blonde woman does not understand what is going on and retreats in her boyfriend's direction to the back of the room . Ms. Francophile contemplates accompanying the boy with a smile on her face, but then looks back at the questioning faces of her friends and decides to decline the invitation. As she shuts the door, laughing, she knows that she will regret her decision. END"