Paris, B. O. Hotel, 1.33 a.m. GMT
What is the point of Soho nights, when you can have Sushi nights in Paris instead?
Yes, it's 2.33 a.m. here, and yes-again: i'm not alone in the Hotel lobby. Axelle is with me and as we were both experiencing an unbearable craving for sushi, sashimi and a nice hot bowl of misò soup, we decided to order some.
I remember the time when i was a teenager and would have died for an occasion to try the highly mystified sushis. Where i grew up, it was impossible to find japanese restaurants and the first time i got the chance to try some, i was 18 years old and terrified by the idea of chewing and swallowing a piece of fish that would not have been first cooked, boiled or fried. Actually, when i first set foot in a Japanese restaurant, i cowardly chose to try teryaki salmon instead; but i had a bite on a red tuna sushi and immediatly fell in love with them. It was too late to order something else, but a few months later, when i had my second Japanese (luxury food, for a student), i asked for sushis and sealed the union.
What i wanted to say, by posting this (absolutely uninteresting) story, was that: how could one be possibly happier than i am now? 25 and full of Japanese-food-related experiences, in good company at my night job, the only living souls in the Hotel, monarchs of a silent kingdom, and because we are in Paris and well equipped with an internet connection, just having to fill a form and click three times to get an almost instant delivery of delicious treats at 2 in the morning...
And for those who are aware of my obsession with the number 28: 12 sushis, 12 makis, two misò soups, two heart-shaped lollipops (28 pieces, if i'm not too bad at maths, mmmh...) for...28€. Creepy! (good-'creepy' though!)