Paris Dreaming by Anita Heiss Read Free Book Online
Authors: Anita Heiss
love it.'
Inside, the atmosphere was electric even though the lighting was dim. There were solid wood tables which kept their original tree shapes and were merely sanded and varnished without the need to craft them into exact squares. There were Friesian cowhide-covered chairs and a huge labrador making its way through the crowd.
'This is Fanny and Beno®t.' Canelle introduced me to the owners of the restaurant who were keen to meet me.
'We were at the musée opening, it was superb,' Beno®t said, Fanny nodding in agreement. 'We would love to have some Aboriginal artwork here as well one day, and tonight we are glad for Terri's book launch.'
We all looked in the direction of the author, who was in a teal-blue strapless dress that resembled the waters around the Torres Strait Islands. She was flanked by fans already requesting autographs although the official launch hadn't even happened. I wanted to meet and congratulate her and see what connections we could make, but I'd wait until she was finished working.
Canelle, Fanny and Beno®t were talking too fast in French for me to keep up, so I made small talk, introducing myself to every staff member at Nomad's, aiming to maintain my look as the 'newly arrived local'. The staff were as multicultural as the city, with Croatian, Brazilian and Jamaican waiters serving prawns, ostrich and rabbit terrine.
'What's this?' I asked Canelle quietly when the restaurateurs walked off, not wanting to look like the country bumpkin I had always accused Lauren of being.
' Foie gras with chutney. Try it, it's delicious!' She kissed her fingers like a chef might.
The speeches started and the ambassador talked about how many Aboriginal authors had been translated into French: Doris Pilkington, Alexis Wright, Philip McLaren and others. I thought to myself that the French probably liked the fact they could publish stories about what bastards the Brits had been to Blackfellas in Australia, without considering how colonisation had impacted on the Tahitians in Polynesia or the Mohawks in Quebec.
Afterwards, when the signing queue died down, I introduced myself to Terri, who was grateful to have another Blackfella there.
'There's also a fella from home here too, somewhere, in a black suit, red tie,' she said, scanning the room. 'He's the first secretary, and helped coordinate getting me here. I've been so busy we haven't had time to talk properly.'
I started looking also. I hadn't seen a Blackfella yet at the launch, even though I had already spoken with some embassy staff, including Judith, the cultural attaché. I was disappointed in myself for having been there so long and not met him. This was not the protocol I would normally follow. I searched out the red tie almost frantically but couldn't see it. Canelle was on her way over as the room was emptying.
'I have to go, sis,' Terri said, touching my arm, 'the publisher is taking me to dinner somewhere with some booksellers. Gawd, this is all new to me. But it's fun.'
'Live it up, sis,' I said. 'We need more people with more books like yours. Thanks for signing my copy, when do you leave?' I ran my hand over the blue cover, grateful for a piece of home.
'Tomorrow, I'm doing a tour through France. And my French is merde .'
I nearly spat my drink out and we both laughed, knowing everyone learns the rude slang words first.
'Have a great trip,' I hugged her, knowing she might be the only sista from home I'd see for some time. She hugged me back hard as if she felt the same way. Neither of us said anything else.
Terri was whisked away by her publicist so Canelle and I called it a night at 11 pm and headed outside, looking for a cab.
'The whole night was delicious,' I said. 'Everything and everyone. I loved it.'
'I knew you enjoyed yourself, I saw
Inside, the atmosphere was electric even though the lighting was dim. There were solid wood tables which kept their original tree shapes and were merely sanded and varnished without the need to craft them into exact squares. There were Friesian cowhide-covered chairs and a huge labrador making its way through the crowd.
'This is Fanny and Beno®t.' Canelle introduced me to the owners of the restaurant who were keen to meet me.
'We were at the musée opening, it was superb,' Beno®t said, Fanny nodding in agreement. 'We would love to have some Aboriginal artwork here as well one day, and tonight we are glad for Terri's book launch.'
We all looked in the direction of the author, who was in a teal-blue strapless dress that resembled the waters around the Torres Strait Islands. She was flanked by fans already requesting autographs although the official launch hadn't even happened. I wanted to meet and congratulate her and see what connections we could make, but I'd wait until she was finished working.
Canelle, Fanny and Beno®t were talking too fast in French for me to keep up, so I made small talk, introducing myself to every staff member at Nomad's, aiming to maintain my look as the 'newly arrived local'. The staff were as multicultural as the city, with Croatian, Brazilian and Jamaican waiters serving prawns, ostrich and rabbit terrine.
'What's this?' I asked Canelle quietly when the restaurateurs walked off, not wanting to look like the country bumpkin I had always accused Lauren of being.
' Foie gras with chutney. Try it, it's delicious!' She kissed her fingers like a chef might.
The speeches started and the ambassador talked about how many Aboriginal authors had been translated into French: Doris Pilkington, Alexis Wright, Philip McLaren and others. I thought to myself that the French probably liked the fact they could publish stories about what bastards the Brits had been to Blackfellas in Australia, without considering how colonisation had impacted on the Tahitians in Polynesia or the Mohawks in Quebec.
Afterwards, when the signing queue died down, I introduced myself to Terri, who was grateful to have another Blackfella there.
'There's also a fella from home here too, somewhere, in a black suit, red tie,' she said, scanning the room. 'He's the first secretary, and helped coordinate getting me here. I've been so busy we haven't had time to talk properly.'
I started looking also. I hadn't seen a Blackfella yet at the launch, even though I had already spoken with some embassy staff, including Judith, the cultural attaché. I was disappointed in myself for having been there so long and not met him. This was not the protocol I would normally follow. I searched out the red tie almost frantically but couldn't see it. Canelle was on her way over as the room was emptying.
'I have to go, sis,' Terri said, touching my arm, 'the publisher is taking me to dinner somewhere with some booksellers. Gawd, this is all new to me. But it's fun.'
'Live it up, sis,' I said. 'We need more people with more books like yours. Thanks for signing my copy, when do you leave?' I ran my hand over the blue cover, grateful for a piece of home.
'Tomorrow, I'm doing a tour through France. And my French is merde .'
I nearly spat my drink out and we both laughed, knowing everyone learns the rude slang words first.
'Have a great trip,' I hugged her, knowing she might be the only sista from home I'd see for some time. She hugged me back hard as if she felt the same way. Neither of us said anything else.
Terri was whisked away by her publicist so Canelle and I called it a night at 11 pm and headed outside, looking for a cab.
'The whole night was delicious,' I said. 'Everything and everyone. I loved it.'
'I knew you enjoyed yourself, I saw
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