When I arrived at Rene’s little house in the northern suburbs he welcomed me with open arms and immediately took me the his back yard where the devil had erected a tepee. Not exactly a painted tepee made of buffalo skins, but a more colorful version from the local camping store. Once inside he got out his traditional peace-pipe and packed it with “kinnikinnick”, a “kind of” tobacco sent to him by a distant cousin in Wisconsin.
I had stopped smoking a long time ago and my stomach was not handling the stuff too well and when we quit the tepee my legs too, were all wobbly.
” Fleche my friend, judging from your greenish tinge, I think you might need a bit of fresh air. What do you say we head out and fish ourselves a good “Bouillabaisse” (fish soup) to celebrate our reunion? ”
It’s certain that one thing that I never refuse is a fishing trip. In a little more than an hour we were in Rene Deux-Tonnerres’ “pointu” (a Marseille wooden fishing boat) that he christened “Fuck Custer”; anchoring near the island of Frioul, we already at work for our “Bouillabaisse”.
Well, after three good hours when we finally got back to solid ground, our creel only contained 3 small “girelles” and 2 skinny “rouqiers” (Mediterranean rock fish).
Sheepishly, we made a stop at the local supermarket and we bought 2 cans of “Marius Bernard” fish soup.
I guess that the fish in the Mediterranean is akin to the Buffalo in the Great American Plains. Diddly-squat!
Everything comes to an end, my friends. Everything comes to an end!