Lunch

Lunch at a cafe facing the Judicial Palace (which clock was 15 minutes slow, by the way: I first thought it did not work at all, as the hands were in an awkward position, but looking later again saw that they had moved). 'Sit facing the market place', suggested the waiter, 'you can watch the market'. Indeed I could—how the sellers were packing their things and driving away, and how the waiters set out cafe tables in the square. During the about 45 minutes, the gentleman upwind from me smoked 4½ cigarettes.

A teacher told today that the minimum length of their lunch break, as stipulated by their union, was 1½ hours. I can understand.

Bad luck of a pizza boy

While walking towards the hotel at around 21:38, I saw the following.

A pizza moped turned right to a larger street and as it seemed, tried to enter the street just across that, an one-way street, from the wrong end. In an incredibly bad streak of luck, the car that was just coming along it the right way, i.e. towards the moped, was a police car... So it immediately put its beacons on and shone like a Christmas tree for a moment (I watched, since I was waiting for the green light on the pedestrian crossing). The police car stopped and three business-minding police officers emerged. The pizza boy stopped as well and the last sight I saw was that the police officers were checking his papers.

Exhausted, vol. 2

Again, eight hours of language lessons, then introduction to oenology, then (being in the city at the time when the restaurants were finally open at night) having a dinner of local delicacies. So back at the hotel at nearly 10 p.m., and still loads of homework to do...