Just down the street from our house we have a pizza truck. It opens between 1 and 3 and then again from 6-8 every day but Sunday and Monday. He doesn’t mess around with this timing and if you’re there one minute before or after hours the hinged door/window is shut tight. It’s reminiscent of a sno-cone stand but with a big pizza oven, balls of dough, and pizza makings instead of a shaved ice machine and colorful syrups.
These camions de pizza are everywhere here. We’ve lucked out to have one a stone’s throw from the house for those nights when you just can’t figure dinner out. And Jean-Pizza likes you to stay and chat while he prepares and cooks your pie. We’ve talked about the BP oil spill, the noise of the music festival at the nearby arena, the big-whig boss of a certain American company who lives down the street, and finally, le coupe de monde.
The last time I got a pizza was with my visiting Irish friend Denice. It was the beginning of the World Cup. We were talking about how France was in shambles due to the coach and his decisions but Denice and I claimed it was all down to karma because of Henry’s hand ball. Because I’m an American he mentioned the US team and their likelihood of success.
Jean-Pizza said he believed the US would be beaten in the first round by Algeria. HAH!! We all know that wasn’t the case and now I’m patriotically all riled up. I am still American after all and with that comes a sense of pride, enthusiasm and optimism. Never one for half measures, I’m now convinced we could win the whole thing! My plan is to go down to Jean’s and brag about how incredibly wrong he was….to be exact, my first thought the morning after the win over Algeria was spoken aloud to Paul. “I’m going to go over there and make Jean-Pizza eat crow!” And as usual Paul’s even keel reply was, “Ok, go over there and show him how wrong he was by buying some pizzas.” He has a point but I really don’t care. I’m going to go buy some pizza, brag a bit about my country’s team, and pray that I won’t be the one eating crow instead of pizza next weekend. I don’t want to have to do away with the pizza but Jean doesn’t seem the type to hold a grudge.