Last weekend I went up to Faqra to sleep over at my best friend’s house, Nour—I have missed her so much and it was time for us to catch up big time. I went to the mountains with 2 friends, whom one of them was driving. We had lots of fun on the road but this story is about the morning which followed that day.
[I wore a high-waisted acid wash jeans and flowy white top from Topshop, Prada denim loafers, and Nameless sweatshirt from GS. Later at night, we hung out at a friend’s chalet in Faraya, boys and girls. We stayed there a bit and then, Nour and I left the group to go have dinner at Eleven Hotel & Restaurant, whose proprietor also own Le Montagnou in Faraya too. I picked the Salmon Farfalle pasta but, it was extremely salty—you could imagine the cook had dropped the salt cellar on my dish. I took a bite from Nour’s waffle to taste it for the first time, because, she has obsessed me with just how amazing it is. In fact, she was right; she had ordered hers without dark chocolate and with a lot more white chocolate than what’s usually served. We later joined the rest of our friends at the ski slopes in Warde for some music drinks and hotdog buns around a campfire. I caught a cold because I was barely wearing anything to keep me warm. When we came back to Nour’s house, I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach; I took two Buscopan pills and I crawled into bed.]
It was a Sunday morning—or early afternoon. We had just woken up. Nour, I mean, had just woken up. Anna and I were just waiting for Sleeping Beauty to open her eyes, put her feet on the ground...
Maybe there is one thing I should tell you about Nour. And as it happens, it goes the same for me. We both love to sleep in the morning (and not just Sunday) so, as a matter of fact, we both suffer from a lack of punctuality—and that is actually one of my favorite reasons that explain our close friendship.
Anna and I were discussing where to go have breakfast at 1 pm. “Eleven”, I said for the waffles and “Auberge de Faqra” she said for the mini croissants. “Eleven” “Auberge” “Eleven” “Auberge” “Eleven” “Auberge” “Eleven” “Auberge”… Nour wouldn’t help, like always, she stays fairly neutral (She cannot choose because she will not upset anyone, my nb.1 sweetheart this girl really!). Finally, this discussion took a desperate and obstinate turn—we both switched choices. “Auberge”, I said and “Eleven” she said.
We finally opted out for Eleven, because by the time we got all dressed up it was 2:30 pm and the breakfast formula at Auberge de Faqra was no longer in service—but we were still convinced we had to have breakfast in the middle of the afternoon!
There we go, on the road to Faraya. When we arrived to Eleven, we stepped in the restaurant, which seemed strikingly dark in contrast to the outside sunlight. I suggested we sit outside, dim lights in the “morning” will only make you sleep more—In fact dim lights in a restaurant is a smart atmosphere just if I am on a romantic date during a night out. It was too cold on the terrace, so we ended up deciding to have breakfast inside. We came back in and it is when we realized we were the only people in the room, where is the waiter? Where is he? We started looking and we found him sleeping in the corner on a couch—AWKWARD. We waited a few minutes before we decide to leave. The guy was sleeping so deeply, no sign of life or motion. On our way to the door, something cracked on the floor. The guy woke up. At that moment, I didn’t know who felt worse: the waiter who has just realized he had fallen asleep and been asleep in front of potential clients, me and Anna who wanted to get out but found ourselves trapped, or Nour who felt bad because she woke up the poor guy, (I told you this girl is a sweetheart!).
No, we left. Back on the road, we decide to give Le Refuge restaurant at InterContinental hotel a try. After we got lost on one of the floors, we took the elevator. Or the elevator took us. We got trapped in the elevator. Instead of going up, it went all the way down till the last floor where there is the parking or the warehouse or something and up up it went again. There was an employee with us in the elevator and he was pushing on all the buttons with such a straight and cold face. The elevator wouldn’t respond. Huge stress was building up in this box and we all started to freak out—except for the employee who stood unbelievably motionless and silent. Nour urged the guy to do something about it “Please fik t2oul la hadan?” or “Please can you call somebody to help us?” the guy didn’t answer, he moved his hand and put it on his forehead, like “shit we are going to die”. And up the elevator went, I was dead scared—it reminded me of a dumb horror movie I watched a couple of times on French channel TF1 where the main characters die in an elevator after a power cut. I bent down on my knees because I thought it was going to hit the top of the building… Fortunately, it was there on the last floor where it stopped. We came rushing out of the elevator and we couldn’t wait to get out. The guy called us back, saying the elevator was working again. But hell no, we were going on the stairs. He was supposed to apologize for such a bad experience instead of inviting us for another blood-curling and nerve-wrecking ride.
We called the car from the Valet and decide to head back to Eleven. Except that the guy had fallen asleep again! I swear! But he quickly took notice of us and I joked a bit to break the ice.
We sat and ordered two waffles and brownies with three orange juices. Another waiter served us—three waffles and three orange juices. But hey, Anna didn’t care, we were all hungry and could not wait to go back home! Someone was trying to get to us!