Silly Grins

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

33 Days: Day 3

Work commences.  Angela's plot to ask to work the best beach on Belle-Ile ($$) is thwarted by a fat, tan, competitive Belle-Ilois ice cream vendor who we later discover foots around the island on a moped like a gorilla in a cartoon.  He has a small, theoretically illegal stand (due to the law all vendors on the beach must be mobile, able to move at a moment's notice, and his stand is way too big for that) on the beach where he sells ice cream pretty much like ours but with a different brand name, soft drinks, etc. and makes a decent business so obviously he doesn't want us dipping into his profits.  Heated discussion ensues between him and Romu while all of us look on worriedly.  I don't really feel like leaving Angela there because I worry this fucker will give her shit (he has a lot of deadbeat-ish friends who hang around his stand and appear to have nothing to do besides harass another ice cream vendor should one decide to appear) but Romu assures us it will be o.k. and we leave Angela with her ice cream chariot, which has a big buoy-like thing attached to a metal frame with handles so that it can be pushed over the sand without too much effort.  I ask to be put on a smaller beach (less scary if there are less people to deal with, like I said, French isn't my native language) and find myself at a charming spot called Herlin, good sand and miniscule waves, perfect conditions for families who come to the beach with small children.  

In the end both Angela and I make practically nothing because there is no one there, the season hasn't really started yet.  I make the acquaintance of the lifeguard, David from Rennes, who has a really really red face and talks to me like we are both on some kind of sports team together, always trying to pep me up and giving me theatrical slaps on the shoulder.  I leave the beach at 6:30 p.m. and walk up the hill to the parking lot with no shoes since Romu assured me I wouldn't need my thongs on the beach and advised me to leave them in the van, on top of pushing the stupid fucking cart up the hill it's nice to have rocks stabbing into my feet.


  1. Man...
    What are you doing HERE?
    WTF am I doing here??

    We should both be back on the beaches where we left our hearts.

  2. Chris: I'm living in a shotgun shack, in another part of the world...doing what I'd be doing anywhere else...just trying to figure out how to make this all work.

    My question for you would be: What are you not doing? That list is probably pretty short.

    Bet your next party is going to be a big one...

  3. Chris: Choice?

    (Answering rhetorical questions, as well as asking them, is probably not a style/habit that suits I'll stop)

  4. I'm not assaulting people as freely as before because I have gathered things that some parts of my brain don't wanna lose. Freedom is just the final lost thing. It was a pure freedom.....being free and not caring.

  5. Chris: Not caring about myself, I really enjoyed some amazing times... only to come down really hard in the realization that I really can care for people...and I let myself get conned. The emotional price was a trip. I'd rather know how to be honest with myself than go through that again.