What a strange place. I have met a clockmaker with a benign essential tremor that would outdo a man with cerebral palsy, I have been to a internet cafe that doesnt accept credit cards, and I am currently on a computer that wouldn't allow me to access Gmail, and suggessted I switch from Chrome to another program. That's Google Chrome. The same source as Gmail. Google Mail. Wouldn't work on Google Chrome.
Really?
The apartment in nice on paper, quick to get into, and reasonably shitty. It suits my purposes wonderfully, though. There is a mini kitchen, although I think calling it a kitchen is an insult to kitchens everywhere. The bathroom is fine, I even have my own 'shower'. There is some crappy furniture, just as expected, and the electricity didn't work when I first moved in, but everything is straightened out now.
I forgot to mention the other crazy thing. Guess what today is? 2nd of July. Guess what happens on the 2nd of July? The Tour de France starts on the Nice coast. Guess how many fucks the locals give? Zero. Here's the kicker, though. Guess how many tourists actually saw the event itself? Also zero, because nobody told anybody when it was actually going to start until after it had started. I gave up around 1000 when the vast majority of the people who had "come to see the Tour de France" flocked to a artificial tourist trap set up inland a few blocks.
Anyhow. That's about the size of it. I'm going to start posting separate sections with transcribed excerpts from my diary, which I write in real time. I've removed some of the more personal bits, but what remains may prove interesting to somebody.
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