Chapter I - BUT I DON’T HAVE A TOOTHBRUSH

Looking back at our younger years, I realize that at 29 years old, I was a whole lot more adventurous than I am now. Planning was not really in my vocabulary; things just happened.

That morning I did some stuff in De Hartedief, our restaurant in Amsterdam, and around 2 o'clock in the afternoon Patricia came to pick me up in her Chevy. I drove the car out of the city traffic and we were enjoying each other. She noticed that I was not driving to Amstelveen where we lived and she asked me about that. I asked her if she felt like going out for dinner, and she said she really would like that.

So we hit the highway.

After 1½ hour driving Patricia asked, “where are we going, aren't we almost there? PARIS !!! I answered her. She looked amazed at me and her eyes sparkled with fun, love, and happiness. But Patricia wouldn’t be Patricia if she didn’t come up with a dilemma: "I DIDN’T BRING A TOOTHBRUSH !" I solved the problem by explaining that they probably sold toothbrushes in Paris. She squeezed my hand with pounds of love and for the rest of the trip, I would look at her-Nino-is-taking-me-to-Paris-and-I-love-it-face. I felt good and was proud of myself for being such a romantic.

We found a nice hotel with a toothbrush close to Montmartre where we settled in. We bought some clothes for the next day and I drove the car, feeling like a man of the world, smoothly to Place du Tertre, where I parked the car next to the Sacré Coeur church. In the middle of the square where the painters paint their portraits, we found a nice restaurant called La Mere Catherine, where the 80-year-old Catherine still ruled the kitchen. We had the best-smoked salmon, lobster bisque, duck, and tarte tatin—a glass of Champagne for the lady, and a bottle of Julienas for me. Of course we stayed another day.

What if you could relive your memories?