The Not Quite French Class

Last night, I tutored a Sri Lankan friend of mine in French. She isn't terribly motivated (or rather, isn't motivated at all), so the getting started part of class is always an effort. I tried to plow right into lessons, and she interrupted me with, "I want to be slim girl. Like you."
I nodded, and said, "Well, the best way is to eat more vegetables and less cakes. Now as for your French..."
"I go to doctor this morning." She rolled up her sleeve and showed me the patch of cotton that covered the needle prick. "He take blood to help me be slim girl."
So, we stopped and talked about that for a while. She's getting married in the summer, and suddenly, "being slim girl" is on the top of her list of priorities.
Finally, we started classes. I helped her with her unfinished homework, and then, after ten minutes of that, she said, "Now, time for cadeau."
"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry, but I didn't bring you a gift."
"No, no, no," she said. "I bring you cadeau, but no bag for cadeau." She handed me this beautiful embroidered shirt that she'd bought at the market. I tried it on and oooohed and aaaahed over it for a while, before saying, "So, let's work on today's lesson."
We worked about ten minutes on conjugating the verb etre when she said, "Now, time for juice."
Without waiting for my response, she jumped up, ran to the kitchen, and came back with an overflowing glass of orange juice. "Thanks," I said. "I'll drink this, and we'll keep conjugating, okay?"
"Okay," she said. "But I think we need to shop first. I have no eraser."
I handed her a pencil of mine, complete with eraser, and convinced her that we didn't need to go shopping.
We finally made it through the rest of the lesson, despite her attempts to have a break ("Now, it is time to watch cinema." or "Now, we watch Indian lovers on the television.")
After an hour and a half, we finished, and she kicked off her shoes, laid back on her bed, and said, "That was hour and a half!"
"Class should be two hours," I said, laughing. "You had a break today."
She sat up quickly, an idea coming to her, and said, "My cousin own Indian restaurant in Place de Clichy. We go there for eat." Already convinced of this, she wet down her hair, smeared some makeup on, and grabbed her purse. "We go."
So, we took the bus over to Place de Clichy, and walked into a completely deserted Indian restaurant. My friend told them, "Bring us whatever's in the kitchen," and the proprietor--probably glad to have someone in the restaurant-- stacked the table full of deep friend potatoes and onions, mint teas, coffees, rice, chicken, beef, and a variety of other things. After two hours of extensive eating, the proprietor kept trying to give us desserts and coffees, but we both begged off, saying we couldn't eat anymore.
At 9, we finally left the restaurant and headed home.
I'm starting to wonder, however, if every Monday class with her is going to be like this. Could be interesting.... We shall see.