Lessons in Savoir-Vivre – Part 1
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The last thing I bought before my money ran out was a pair of blue Kickers.
I’d zigzagged through the streets of Paris with Henri every day since we met, and the situation was untenable: the gentle October rain was soaking into the crack in my left shoe, leaving me with sodden socks. Buying a new pair of shoes was a necessary luxury.
Henri had taught me how to eke out a Parisian existence, but my savings were almost gone. I’d spent my first three months living in the 7th district, wandering around the pricey rue Cler market street, always wondering how to make do with less. Shunning the expensive Felix Potin grocery just under my shared apartment was easy, but finding an alternative was harder.
I’d watched in horror as gleaners picked through the crates tossed out after the market was over: they’d pluck out withered salads or puckered apples. Nothing in my previous life had prepared me for this Parisian version of a dumpster dive. And even though I felt as if I’d already joined their ranks, I couldn’t bring myself to follow the example of these urban peasants.
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