I had a teary farewell and an uneventful flight (except for the treat of seating first class Shanghai - Doha, Doha - Paris, courtesy of the Captain), finally arriving at M. on Monday night. Haven't been up to much in the past couple days, did some general cleaning on this insanely abandoned house, seriously I'm surprised there were no bats around. Milk of course decided it was indispensable to attend to the garden before even unpacking... which means all those mundane tasks of making the beds, vacuuming the carpets and folding clothes had become mine while he mowed the grass.
I did another flyer for the restaurant where Bi works at, they liked it a lot which means two very important things: 1. They will continue to employ me for future events. 2. They will recommend me to other restaurants in need. And I, as TEH most merciful of lords will of course, oblige.
I present now, the small village of M.
Population: 100.
At least there's internet.
This charming little village shall be our home for the summer, or until we get a job somewhere else in Corsica. In the most awful scenario that we can't find a job for the summer holidays, I will be moving to Corte in September where I will be attending P. P. University, nothing big, just French classes. By then I MUST have gotten myself some kind of job for the school year, and for my sister as well.
Milk will also be job hunting on his own. At this moment I wish the Corsican mafia were a bit more organized than they seem, or at least, that Milk Senior were a celebrated member and could score us some jobs.
Ideally, I would be a bartender and Milk the pizzaiolo of the same little restaurant. Ah, doesn't that sound lovely lovely? I was in such good spirits the first couple days, I had even thought of what I was going to say that would put me ahead of other job applicants:
1. I have two years experience mixing cocktails in Shanghai (drop a big name, they'd be like whoa).
2. I may not speak French yet, though I understand it well and I speak fluent English, Spanish and Chinese (again, whoa).
3. I love Corsica.
4. Most importantly, I'd do it for HALF of what you'd pay ANYONE else as long as the job offers accommodation and meals (I'll also eat HALF of what they serve, kill two birds with one shot).
I even learnt how to say that in French! Unfortunately it's going to take a couple months before I can begin to even conceive French writing, it just looks like drunk spanish on an AZERTY keyboard. No offense, remember I love Corsica.
And this "no cigarette" rule is highly inconvenient... last night I went downstairs at midnight and locked myself in the guest bathroom that happens to be full of those goddamned lizards that move really fast and grow back their tails, remember those? What can you do, when you gotta smoke, you gotta smoke.
Little Mongoliaaaaan!
Day 3 in Corsica: a little bored.
Corsican word of the day: Bonghjornu (Good morning!)
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