(Apparently today is Blog Like Someone Else Day. Given that I have an excruciating amount of studying to do, this seemed like a pretty good idea. It's Friday night, guys. Anyway, I have chosen to blog as one of the characters on the U.N. Show Dad and I are writing. The characterizations are still pretty rough, but this character has a stronger voice than most so far, so I present you with something of a preview: Lanh Nguyen, the ambassador from Vietnam.)

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Today was my second day of work. It is strange to sit in the same chair my predecessor occupied for so many years, mostly because he was such an impressive diplomat and a kind man.
Also because he was a much larger man than I am, and the seat cushion is molded to the shape of his ass.
I finally got to see Paul yesterday. I ran him down in the hall. He doesn't look much different from when I last saw him in Rome (at the peace conference, where he vomited all over my shoes) but he spoke much more softly. I wonder if that is a product of working here. I know it can't be a product of living in New York.
Seeing him made me think of France again. I want to sit in a café with Véronique again, like we did on our honeymoon. When we were at the Sorbonne, Paul and I didn't have enough money to make a habit of going to cafés, so when we did we would buy a coffee and make it last for hours. (Fortunately, the French don't mind that. They don't move at American pace. The French live and let live, too, but I don't feel like writing about that now.)
Paul is the one who introduced me to Véronique. That happened in Paris too. We were standing in front of the Cameroonian embassy where Paul was working in those days, and this girl walked by and Paul called out to her. They had taken the same philosophy class, and they had disagreed about The Republic (Véronique was in favor of installing a Philosopher-King and Paul wanted the book burned), so Paul wanted her to hear a new argument he had come up with. The three of us went to a café and Véronique insisted on paying, which, even in France, was surprising. Of course we made an interesting enough picture already: a woman, a African man, and a Vietnamese man sitting by the Seine. It had the makings of a good joke.
The French ambassador should know where to go in the city. I should set up a meeting with him, soon.