Pretending

"But when I register at school, what grade should I be in? Victor was almost three years older than I am."

"I don't know. Let's talk about that later, shall we?"

"Okay."

What's going to be different later? Why not now?

The family arrives in Paris in the evening. Dinner is in a hotel restaurant, the first of many at which bread is served with an otherwise hot meal - a puzzle to the Spiets children. They're used to bread at breakfast, and perhaps lunch, but never with a hot evening meal.

The adults go out to look at the city, and the kids are put to bed early.

It's warm here.

Jack lies awake most of the night.

I resent being shuffled off to bed like a little kid. I know I can't really expect to be allowed to go see the city, but it would have been interesting to hang around the front of the hotel, to watch and listen to the people, and maybe see if I can understand them when they're talking French.

My visit to Paris is going to be pretty skimpy.

I wonder what it'll be like to float upon the ocean. Nothing but water all around, as far as you can see. Miles and miles and miles of water. Just water and sky. Something like it was in the airplane, coming to Holland, but then the water was so far below, it just looked like another sky, an upside down sky below the airplane sky. This time I get to float, on that upside down sky. In a huge ship, as big as a dzong. So big you can get lost on it.