on the Brink of Paris Three Madame Chavotte woke us at seven thirty the next morning, making me feel like one of those army trainees awakening in the barracks at dawn to a barrage of commands from a towering military figure. We had to make our beds, but no one was ordered to do push-ups or clean the toilets with a toothbrush. Any hopes for a traditional French breakfast were shattered with the arrival of a collection of cereal boxes and pitchers of milk. There was also a stack of sliced bread piled precariously next to an industrial-size toaster. But the light at the end of the tunnel was the discovery of the only valid item of European cuisine to be found within fifty feet of the VEI—a jar of Nutella. Nutella: bliss in a thirteen-ounce spreadable form. Nutella: my current raison d’être. Quite simply, it’s chocolate hazelnut paste. You spread it on bread and eat it. This is essentially like having a piping-hot piece of toast with chocolate frosting smeared on top. And this is not even considered nutritionally warped behavior in Paris; in fact, it is as normal as tucking into a bowl of granola and milk.
What do You think about On The Brink Of Paris (2006)?
