By the end of the season, I had had enough of France. I had not spoken much English, and I had not seen another American for close to a year. I was tired, and I was thinking about the importance of an education to a young person.
So, I decided to return to the U.S. rather than continuing to work for Chef Lauriot. I told him I would be returning to the U.S.
Part of me wanted to take the motorbike to Portugal and sail on the Santa Maria, a boat that my grandparents really liked. This would have departed Portugal and sailed throughout the Caribbean before landing in Florida.
But I was tired. I did not want complexity. I wanted simplicity. I wanted immediate solution to my loneliness. So, I sold my motorbike for a ridiculously low sum (lots of smiles all around), and I took the train to Paris. There, I bought a ticket on Air France, one way. My last meal in France was Moroccan: I was determined to eat couscous and tajine. For appetizer, I had brik, which is a very thin sheet of dough enclosing a fried egg, some capers, and deep-fat-fried. It in no way resembled a brick. Unfortunately, I had a tension headache, so I did not enjoy the meal.