As you all know since you're following me since I started my blog five years ago, I'm from Japan, so I love french cheese, especially «Roquefort », it has a caracteristic umami flavor thet goes well with the tofu in my special miso soup. Six months ago, I heard of a Roquefort producer that lives near Seattle. But since I live in Texas, I had to go all the way across the state and then up to Seattle to meet them. Unfortunately, my car crashed in the middle of nowhere, in the Mojave Desert. But I wasn't so unlucky, since the road was still very frequented. I easily hitchhiked with very nice people, they shared some water with me even though they told me their state suffered from heavy droughts. I just thought this was nothing more than a heatwave. After all, we live in the richest country on the planet, we just have to buy the water or steal it from other countries, or even replace it with Coke(tm), like they did in Mexico (that's a real issue).By 22PM, I had to spend the night somewhere before maybe taking a flight to Seattle in a bigger town. Indeed, the last driver who had helped me had dropped me in some old dusty town in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere, it was in fact the Modoc plateau, at night, it just seemed like the several streetlights standing by the road were rocky islands in an ocean of darkness. Next to the road stood a glowing sign, it displayed the words «Hotel California» in blinking capital letters. What an original name I thought to myself ironically. Anyway, the balance between offer and demand in this barrenness allowed me to afford a nice sleep before getting back on the road to Seattle.I had no sooner awoken than I scuttled off to the road side with my pitiful cardboard sign saying «airport». But on the road, there was not a single soul, except those of a few lizards roasting in the sun before they'd start a their day of chasing arthropods. Disappointed, I got back into the hotel. «What's the problem? You're not leaving» asked Kevin, the hotel standardist. I told him that there was no one on the road. He then informed me that the nearest airport was in San Cergiero, forty miles north from here. Then he handed me a bottle of water «It should be enough. That's all we have left anyway.» he said.
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Droughts
Non-Fiction"In the désert, there is personne, never a coup de téléphone...", cette citation d'Antoine de Cône est à mettre en relation avec ce récit qui, je vous l'assure, a réellement eu lieu, et est retranscrit mot pour mot depuis le blog d'une inconnue, et...
