Am writing from my room in the Glycines study center, where the sound of honking cars and screaming people is keeping me awake at 2 am. Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, the fronds on the several miles of palm trees planted along the highway into town from the airport that have been wrapped tight against their trunks, will finally shake their booty.
In this country where a liter of gas costs less than a mineral water, there is too much to say and not always a good way to say it. Here was the running joke at dinner tonight, in an outdoor restaurant high above the monument to martyrs: so what does France really have to show for its fifty years of independence ?
