When I arrived back at Carlitos’s in the morning, we replayed the previous night in miniature with leftovers and repurposed leftovers. I had onion soup (what we’d call French onion soup) the local hangover/indigestion cure-all.
Then, a prawn in buttery brown sauce: 
and cheese: 
and a lovely red wine that I had a hard time getting down because I am simply not a drinker. Carlitos joked that I must be ill since I wasn’t drinking it all down like a true francaise, but when nobody was looking I poured out my wine into a regular glass and filled the rest with Coca Cola– a sacrilege around these parts but it was easier to stomach for me.
After breakfast, Carlitos showed me and my cousin Nina his chickens, whom we fed a breakfast of leftover leftovers. I didn’t quite know what to think watching a chicken peck at crispy chicken skin, but Carlitos laughed and said chickens really eat anything. We fetched five eggs from the coop and went back inside. 
