With rain bringing the tournament to a standstill, I was able to be offsite for a bit today. Most of the crew prefer to drop their clothes at a wash and fold but for me, if given the time I return to the same quiet laundromat with a pocketful of coins and a good book (with any luck). This time my book was accompanied with some food from the market and a pain au chocolat from the corner bakery next to our hotel.

At the moment I'm reading Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist by Michael J Fox. While his struggle is difficult to comprehend, I can relate to the emotions from some of the medical problems I battled with when I was younger.  The book brings back memories of struggle but for now it's mildly therapeutic.  At the very least it's made the time go by quickly while I wait for my clothes to dry.
Later in the evening I made my way to Pizza Trionfo La Bedaine, a favorite brick oven pizza joint.  I've been there at least once on each of my four visits to Paris.  The Savoyarde is a personal favorite but I doubt there's a choice on the menu I wouldn't devour.  The owner starts to talk to me, asking if I speak French.  The answer of 'no' never seems to slow the French, they continue speaking thinking that since you understood their first question you obviously speak enough of the language.  After explaining where I'm staying, I missed too many words in the next sentence to give a suitable response.  Of course I try to decrypt and take a stab at an answer.

Owner - "[Somthing, something, something] France ou Italien?"

Me - "Anglais, eh... moi?  Je suis des Les États-Unis."

Nice try a-hole.  The owner then pulled out the Italian bottle of wine he was offering.  Turns out he was asking if I wanted a free drink and if I preferred an Italian or French wine.  Oh well, won't be the last stupid response I give.  Je ne suis pas à pizza!