Scribbles from Aminata Diallo’s March Diary

Unfortunately, you can’t leave your car in a heated garage and assume the lovely perfume of 2L of spilt almond milk will just vanish.

Intoxicated by vivid memories of reeling left and right handers, we deceived oversized baggage employees, scored the red loungers and even lucked out with rocking chairs to tough out the wait. The wait of two broken planes and flight attendants vraiment en crisse en tabaranac! A reward of all-you-can-drink pound Tanqueray seemed like a good idea at the time, but comboed with Mexican happy pills, the fog never seemed so thick. Oliver, heading to post-Sandinista sand points avoided the swill, but also had to deal with 2hrs of sleep before heading back to YUL. Perhaps not in a fog, but definitely a haze.

“I’m going down to [Nica] And get some sand in my shoes… I’ll ride that Orange Blossom Special And lose these [Mtl] blues.”

Fall asleep listening to pre-programmed piano (unlikely it was Brahms) and awaken to a live harp concerto. If this is what a siesta at the B. Niche entails every day, that is something one could get accustomed to. There are of course, innumerable lessons to be learnt passing time with El Ray. A proper marinara, to start and how to choose yuca at the market. Notes diligently taken.

Some scraggly California kid riding an Elder shape – WTF? Private school teachers with style for days, taking Friday afternoon off to profiter en masse! That’s an educator worth learning from.

Txt Rcvd: “car is rented, I got an Isuzu Rodeo.”

Txt Rcvd: “ABRAZO!!”

Ever gracious hosts with a perpetually coldie-filled fridge and Nutella-stocked cupboard.

Ah, New Hampshire, the Granite State.


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