Today the operative words were chilly, windy, and dusty. In fact, we joked that we might have gotten more red dirt in our lungs today than in our two years in China. Well, not hardly It was especially hard on the players, though. Sometimes, just as a player was about to serve, a small dust storm would interrupt. I imagine that they could all need something like Visine after their matches.
Our Chinese friend, He Da, had asked if we could try to get him a ticket for tomorrow, Friday. After we arrived at Roland Garros today and asked at the ticket window, we were directed to the internet ticket website. Somehow I became the designated person to try to accomplish the ticket buying task. What a crazy experience that was. There was at least one shop with free internet. Finding that was easy. Using the keyboard was another matter. My touch typing skills did not stand me in good stead because for some reason the French like to rearrange things. Take the “Q” for example. Are there a lot of “Q’s” in French? Perhaps, because for some reason they reverse the “Q” and the “A” and I could not get used to the change so I was always typing Richqrd. Then there were the numbers that were upper case, as was the period, and the @, which was an Alt Shift something or other. After about forty-five minutes, I finally got to the page that gave me the information that all the tickets were sold out. We sort of knew that from the ticket booth, but the gentleman had encouraged us to try to website anyway. The time passed quickly, and I knew I could complain about it on the blog
We watched bits and pieces of several matches today. The first one, however, we watched in its entirety. It was between Sam Querry and Ivan Ljubicic. Querry did not prevail. He didn’t quite seem to have the heart for it, and/or Ljubicic was a difficult opponent. I have been trying to decide what words I wanted to use to describe M. Lju. I have settled on “that old fox.” I don’t know that he is very old, but he expended no more energy than was absolutely necessary. Once he got ahead on serve, he just sort of lay back and let his opponent win on his serves. Then he saved his game for holding his own serve. Admittedly, Querry did not give him too much to worry about. But Ljubicic’s not really playing half the time did not show much respect for his opponent or for his audience, but he did win, and I guess that is what is most important.
Our next goal was to see the other American still in contention, Marty Fish. He did very well. We were able to see the second and third sets of the three set match. Fish looked a lot more confident than he had when we saw him on Monday. So, at least one American had made it to the third round.
I had taken a liking to Heather Watson, the young Brit that we had seen two days earlier, so we headed for Court 3, where she was supposed to be playing, but the prior match was still in progress. So we stood in line (there were a lot of queues today) and ended up watching one set of a match between Marcos Baghdatis from Cyprus and Leonardo Mayer from Argentina. Baghdatis and Mayer are both grunters who have to punctuate each stroke with a sound of agonized energy. They almost seemed to be singing the same note, though, of course, not at the same time. The funniest part of this match was the standing in line because we met a very clever Indian man who kept us entertained with lots of loud jocularity.
Our next goal was a mixed doubles match, and on the way Rich pointed out a sign that said Boissons Chaudes/hot drinks. He gave me the price of a hot chocolate and I got into the queue. It was a short one, though, and I was soon at the counter where I ordered my chocolate. The lady told me that I would have to give her an extra euro in exchange for my plastic cup, which I could redeem when I brought the cup back. I showed her my meager coins and made it clear that I did not speak French, and eventually let me have the cup “free” on condition that I bring it back “immediatement.” Well, I was not going to do that, but I did bring it back later. The clerk wanted to give me a euro, but I tried my best to explain that I had not made a deposit for the cup. It was “free.” It turned out to be just as confusing and frustrating not to receive a euro as it had been not to pay the euro in the first place. But I am not in my native country, so why should I expect to know what is going on most of the time.
We spent only one set at the mixed doubles. I liked the name of one of the ladies, Mlle. Delacroix. I also liked her outfit. The back at hip level was filled with large pleats that flounced. She reminded me of a bird, maybe a peacock, although gray. The most interesting thing in that match was sitting next to some Americans who live in Geneva, Switzerland (they wouldn’t say why), who knew where Delaware County, PA was. They were from North Carolina so they recognized Rich’s Davidson Lacrosse hat. They had just flown to Paris for the day; Europe is a small world.
Next we caught a glimpse of a men’s doubles match, won by Shakhovsky and Youzhny. We have seen Youzhny before, at the ATP tournament in Cincinnati. Rich likes his serve and has tried to adapt it to his own game.
Then it was back to a queue. We wanted to see the young Ukranian, Dolgopolov, again, but before we were able to do that, we ended up seeing the final set of a men’s singles match between Nikolay Davydenko and Antonio Veic. Davydenko’s matches are notoriously long because, as Rich say, “he does not have any winners.” Veic, a qualifier, won. Next he will play Nadal. What an amazing opportunity for him. Finally, we remained on that Court for the first set of Dolgopolov and Haider-Maurer. Dolgopolove won that one.
Then it was home to warm up a bit and wash for dinner. We went back to the Greek restaurant, Happy Times, where we had eaten a few days ago. This time Rich had lamb and I had a pannini. And, of course, the Moroccan mint tea. Now we are home at the hotel, and I am falling asleep at the keyboard. Bon nuit.
p.s. I can understand why the French love their language. It is almost like a song.
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