When I woke up today, I felt gross again, but the feeling soon went away. I had better not be getting ill again, because, all though I can do nothing about it, I’m sure you don’t want to read a week’s worth of complaints.

JP never said when he was coming back, either today or tomorrow, I didn’t know, so I left a note on the door telling him to call Bonapart to let him in, then I left to school.

Today was one of the easiest lessons ever, after the croissant lesson. Brioche is way too easy. All you do is cut it, make it a ball, and stick it in a mold. I was done very quickly, but my miniature ones were H-I-D-E-O-U-S! I hoped that by baking them, they would look much nicer.

With the leftovers, we had to make something called pains aux raisins. These are something baker’s make with leftover dough so that they don’t waste anything. It’s basically a cinnamon roll, only instead of cinnamon, you use raisins. Gross, I know. I added too much pastry cream to mine, so they looked as if they were bleeding cream.

Our Chef today was that one that was rude to me, so, I expected him to continue being the jerk he was last time, and he was. But, he let us stand around and talk instead of practicing piping. It was so nice! About half of us aren’t going to the party, for the same reason as me. Why bother? Nancy, a fellow Francophile, is tired of France, too. I never thought that I could get bored of it here, but well, I never thought that I would get sick of croissants. C’est la vie. She is going to the country this weekend, I wish I were, I need to get out of the city. I hope to go South next month to the Riviera after school gets out the 13th. Hopefully it is warm! She could never be a pastry chef either, she admitted, much like myself. I couldn’t do it. Too much repetition.

Nobody seems to understand how I could miss big stores like Target and Best Buy, even Walgreens, and I never go there. They all seem to enjoy the stupid little boutiques and their prissy owners.

Well, it was time for judgement. I got ready to be told to get a hair cut when he said, ‘Jolie, jolie, jolie, jolie…et jolie.” With every jolie (which means pretty), I got a bit more suspicious. I had done everything perfectly. Shocked, I packed up in silence.

I was never going to eat those horrible pains aux raisins, so I left them on a table in the Winter Garden for somebody to have. Then I went to get changed for our field trip to Angelina’s. When I came back, not five minutes later, there was no trace, aside for the paper, that my pains aux raisins had ever been there. They must have been good.

We left on the Metro for the bakery, and I think I may have found a new route to get to school more quickly, that was nice. Everybody was chatting, but Ilaria and I sat reading.

Soon, we were at Concorde, my favorite place in Paris, and in front of the very proper and traditional bakery. I was immediately on Karl Lagerfeld watch. My “friend” from bread class said that he was there when she went. So, I swept my eyes over the clientele, but no Karl. The patrons were of two classes, wealthy or American tourists, and it wasn’t hard to tell the difference.

We were all led down into the labyrinth below where they did the baking and preparations. The floors were all wet and there was a horrible smell. Supposedly, this bakery is marvelously clean compared to most bakeries in Paris. This scares me to no end. I may never eat out again.

There were machines that made everything, which is just more evidence that Le Cordon Bleu is doing things completely backwards. We are making things by hand, everything, including whipped cream, yet, after graduation, if we work in a shop, everything will be made with a computer. It seems silly. They put edible silver leaf on top of some of their pastries, which was very lovely.

After our tour, we had a tasting. We had some wonderful macaroons, some raspberry tart/macaroon Ma would have liked, and some almond thing I didn’t try. I don’t like almonds too much. We also got a cup of their specialty, hot chocolate. Many guide books award Angelina’s best hot chocolate in Paris. I wouldn’t be a good judge, this was probably my second glass of hot chocolate, but good God! It was fantastic! I’ve never had something so yummy. Jessica will have to come here in March. We all sat around chatting and then it was time to go.

I walked with a few peers down to the Carrousel du Louvre to buy some stamps and cards. I turned too soon, so it looked like I was stalking them…oh well. The stamps were super cheap, but they were huge! They covered up the addresses I had written, so, I had to put masking tape over them and then rewrite the address, but you can’t really write on masking tape. They were a mess. If they arrive, I’ll be shocked.

I went to Virgin records to buy Father his birthday card and another greeting card. For two cards, my total was over eight euros! Talk about a screw job!

After that, I headed back to school to pick up my bag and brioches, and then I headed back home.

Nobody came to fix the Internet again. I pray that tomorrow will end this madness, I still remain doubtful, I must stay doubtful to stay sane!