Hanging at the pool...

Woke up feeling the effects of a raucous night with Maureen and Ousmane: Norima’s after work, sushi, zone 4 piano bar (Latin Americans far from home looking for music and dancing to remind them of their girlfriends?), home for red wine. Went swimming. I’m going to miss this pool. Sandwich Polaire at Volupte. French hash; alone, so I met the fascinating ‘Grand Hotel’ couple. Him – handsome Lebanese whose father has been here for 40 years and has ‘run the hotel into the ground; Her – gorgeous Brit with difficult to place hard vowels (grew up SA, Australia?). Both have spent the last 10 years working in the city, and both challenged my stereotypes as he explained how he hopes the hotel will bring economic improvement to the lives of 500 employees and suppliers; how he had to leave banking cause he couldn’t bear to apologise to any more taxi drivers for being a ‘banker’; and how he couldn’t imagine returning to Lebanon, or staying in Cote d’Ivoire, because the corruption was too tiring..