Chapter 3 - Minus 6° C

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OK,Tuesday and it's minus 6 C° out today. God I love working "fromhome" or, rather, working from my hotel room. Granted I stare atthe same four walls in my 20 sq. ft. room day in and day out but itsure beats fighting my way through the cold and out into the Métroor the city streets first thing in the morning to get to work.


Itdoes mean that I keep late hours. I'm up, showered, hair blown dryand at breakfast by 9 every morning and then I usually work until11pm. It's working in all the different time zones that does it. Atthe breakfast room downstairs by 9 am to appease the hotel staffotherwise they start saying that I sleep all day. Work all morningon the Hotel Gyverny account for whom I'm doing tons of PR andstrategic branding for all the green and travel media aligned withthe West Coast (L.A. to Vancouver) and NYC. (It's Paris' firstcertified green hotel and they are pushing that fact so as to getmore bookings).


So,when NYC wakes up at Paris' 3pm or thereabouts, I've only justreturned from a lunch/fresh air break which I take less and less nowthat it's so super cold out, and start with all the NY emails andphone calls. Once I'm done with those, L.A. is waking up, which isnow Paris 6pm or so. And now all the L.A., Vancouver and S.F. emailsand phone calls rev into high-gear. Usually I'm on West Coast phonecalls until at least 8pm. Then I run out across the street to thesushi place and get my takeaway dinner which I eat in my room becauseI can watch T.V. And it's warmer in my room than in the lobby. Also,the hotel staff at night is so proprietary over the lobby. They'reused to having it all to themselves where they can talk to theirfriends on the phone, use their laptops and watch T.V. So they don'treally like having guests hanging around in the lobby at night.It'sa pretty small lobby, anyway. Just a couch and a couple of chairs.


So,after I eat dinner and watch the news, it's 9p.m and time to reply tothe dozens of emails that have just streamed into my inbox from theWest Coast. By the time I shut off the computer it's at least 11p.m.,often later...


Whenthe alarm clock rings at 8a.m. and I make it into the breakfast roomby 9, the beee-yotch of an assistant manager – if she's showed upto work on time which is only 1 or 2 days of the week - stares downher nose at me as if I'm acting like some kind of princess becauseI'm having breakfast at 9am. She leaves at 4p.m. every day and goesback to her family and her kids. We've even discussed this. That Iwork until 11 p.m. every day. But no, does she factor this in? Notat all.


Andshe has this habit of charging up to my table while I'm havingbreakfast and shouting Hello to me in my face. She's got that type ofenergy that is so aggressive. Passive aggressive. The type of personwho smiles while their eyes say "I hate your guts." No wondershe got cancer. Anyone carrying around that level of intensity ofnegative emotions is going to give themselves cancer.


But,if that's the only dark spot in this completely beautiful tableau,then so be it. It's minor. And I can ignore it. Bottom line is :I am living in and loving Paris. And I get to be the grown-up Eloisein Paris's only independent European EcoLabel hotel. And it's inPassy, just steps from the Trocadéro and Eiffel Tower.


WhenI went out with the girls last Thursday, Catherine said, "I neverget to see the Eiffel Tower." She lives over in the 12th(near Nation and Bois de Vincennes) and you don't really see thetower from there. Me, I see it every time I walk out of the hotel. Isee it when I walk to my Métro stop (Passy). I see it when I walkdown to the Seine on my way to the Grand Palais, or to theChamps-Elysées or over to St. Germain-des-Prés. I see it everywhereand wherever I go. The tower is my constant companion. In fact, whenI first arrived, I wrote this essay about it. In the essay Isexualize the Eiffel Tower. Ok, so am a little lonely for malecompanionship. But tell me there isn't a grain of objective truth inthis:

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