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18.11.01: Au Cadran du XIème, rue de le Roquette / boulevard Voltaire What is it about Sundays that can be so dreary, especially when the weekly "suddenly sunny at 6pm" has already happened on Friday? Paris may be gorgeous and all, but the City of Light has a remarkable ability to shroud itself beneath an oppresively grey sky, one that leaves you with very little impulse to do much of anything. But for every force there is an opposing one, and for better or for worse it's the cabin fever that wins this Sunday's battle. I head down the block to one of the cafés on the Place Léon Blum -- the one that I seem to remember my Judeo-Spanish teacher referring to as one of the few remaining places to hear native speakers in situ. No luck with that on this visit, and even less luck with my easy-as-pie Persian homework; tomorrow would be the first missed class.
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