At Linquenda House, Harare's gloomy immigration department, the official inspecting my visa extension form asks me what I do. "I'm a wineseller," I lie.
In crowded Britain, villages like this would be overrun by city dwellers seeking pretty weekend cottages. But France is littered with beautiful villages â€“ what to do with them all?
On the morning of the first game I heard a familiar voice in the breakfast room. "I'd like a cheese omelette and a rooibos tea." It is the BBC's Jonathan Agnew.
Trollywood, as the area has inevitably become known, is not a popular name with the industryâ€™s pioneers. Moodysson, whose Show me Love, Together and Lilya 4-ever were all made here, hates the term and clearly sees TrollhÃ¤ttan as the antithesis of everything Hollywood represents.
The professor of surgery hears a knock on his office door. A surgeon enters gingerly to apologise for missing an important student seminar they were running. â€œI was pushing the truck."
Democracyâ€™s jet-lagged volunteers stumble out of Simon Bolivar international airport into the full glare of the Venezuelan sun. The two security men, locals employed by the mission, hurry us onto the waiting buses, eyes raking the space like Bren guns.
The speech reworked familiar themes of a degenerate and imperialist west trying to force its values on Africa. "Perhaps a new kind of devil found in Britain is spreadingâ€¦ The devilish system in which a man marries another man makes them disregard natureâ€¦This is a rotten culture."
It has been raining for two weeks in Harare, with only an occasional respite for the city's graceful avenues to drip dry. For a country that has gone without heavy rain for several years, this is a turnaround.
The sleek, cramped Eurostar glides out of St Pancras at lunchtime; a couple of hours, a nip across Paris and weâ€™re at Bercy, boarding the Palatino. The name conjures up in my mind an age of glamorous European sleepers but the train doesnâ€™t live up to its heritage.
The image went round the world: the body of Terry Ford, a white farmer killed by Zimbabwe's notorious "war veterans", being guarded by his Jack Russell terrier. For many the sight symbolised the country's descent into tyranny under Robert Mugabe.