PARIS, JE T'AIME

I love to walk in Paris in the early morning, I had to search a little to find a café which opened already, it was just a little before 8 am.

I love the city when it is still waking up, the garbage trucks doing their work picking up the trash, the beer trucks delivering their barrels, and wine and seafood deliveries at the restaurants. People are hurrying to the metro, the bakeries are opening up, with their abundance of croissants, pain au chocolate, and millefeuilles with creme anglaise.

I hear Jacques Dutronc singing his song, even when there is no music at all.

Il est cinq heures Paris s'éveille Paris s'éveille

Le café est dans les tasses Les cafés nettoient leurs glaces Et sur le boulevard Montparnasse La gare n'est plus qu'une carcasse

Il est cinq heures Paris s'éveille Paris s'éveille

"Bonjour, un café au lait, s'il vous plait".

Why is it so that everything tastes better than at home?

It was Tuesday morning, the day before Patricia said to me:

"We need more romance in our lives and you have to work less"

Avoiding a long discussion I answered, "I know you probably want to have a totally different conversation right now, but can we discuss it maybe tonight in Paris?"

"I don't have anything to wear, well I guess I'll find something"

"I am going to find us a hotel, shall we do Quartier Latin, close to the Notre Dame and the Louvre"

"Yes!"

I browsed a website with hotels in Paris, picture after picture, and then my eyes stopped on a picture of an artsy hotel room door with a Western-style wooden sign on a thick rope hanging over the doorknob.

MAKE MY BED ! it said, I was sold right away.

It was a Design Hotel, all the doors were pieces of art, painted by different artists, and also the rest of the interior of the hotel was out of the ordinary, it looked like they made sure not to disappoint the guests who specially came for the Art-part of the hotel.

I booked the suite on the 4th floor, it looked great and the elevator stopped in our suite, so we had a special code to go from the 3rd floor to our floor. The elevator was kind of antique with an Iron gate. The first time we went to our room in it, Patricia said something to me that made me laugh so hard that I jumped up from excitement. And the elevator stopped......... in between floors, I managed to draw the attention of the young receptionist and I asked him if he knew what to do. There was one answer we didn't want and that was no. But he said it!

NON, MONSIEUR!

He spoke happily a little English, and as I had worked in several hotels, I knew a little bit about how to get an elevator going.

"Go to the top floor until you are above the elevator, There will be a hatch that you have to open, and then you will find the cable that moves the elevator on a pulley, you can turn that pulley by hand and it will move the elevator".

"Did you find it"?

"Yes"

"I am turning the wheel"

The elevator moved bit by bit and we stepped onto the 3rd floor, the receptionist did a reset and tried the elevator first out himself before landing on our floor.

"I will take the stairs to the front desk, you can take the elevator now to your suite".

So we did, "No jokes in the elevator Patricia!" It even looked like she was holding her breath until we reached our floor and the door opened all the way.

It was dinner time, so we dressed up for dinner and strolled the streets in Quartier Latin to find a nice place to eat. I was checking window after window of all the restaurants, not looking for the menu but to check out the spaces between the tables and the size of the tables, because I don't want to be locked in from all sides, with the neighbors breathing in my neck because then I get a panicky feeling close to hyperventilating.

I gave up, most of the restaurants were very busy and everywhere the tables were jammed together.

"Shall we do this one, they have fruits de mer, you like that, they have magret de canard, I like that?"

"Yes, I like that"

"Un table pour deux s'il vous plait"

"Qui Monsieur, Madame, ici!

He pointed at the smallest table possible and it had neighbors everywhere.

"Don't you have anything a little more private and bigger?"

"No Sir, look the restaurant is almost full" and he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Ok".

We sat down, and I was trying to find peace with the situation, I told Patricia that I was fine and would try.

After three minutes I gave up, walked to the kitchen, called him, and tried to get an Oscar nomination for pretending that I was hyperventilating, also making suffocating sounds.

He came running to me, moved in seconds flat three or four tables with the guests still sitting on them to make more space for us. He made a gesture to the other guests simulating shortness of breath, pointing at me. It looked like everybody had peace with it.

Patricia watched the whole scene like she was watching a Fellini movie, I know we went through a whole lot in our lives together, but this was one to remember I saw on her face,

"Shall we order then, do you want the fruits de mer, they also have a lobster bisque would you like that?"

So, I woke up Patricia and told her I was going to have coffee and cigarettes outside and enjoy seeing the waking up of the City. After my coffee and admiring everything it was time to go back to the Hotel to have breakfast with Patricia in their artsy breakfast room.

The plan was first to the Notre Dame to light a candle for her mother and then to the Louvre. On the way to the Notre Dame Cathedral Patricia gave me a history lesson about Paris, Ile de la Cité, the church, and the Louvre. I was wondering where she was hiding all that information always, when she needed it it was suddenly just there.

We admired Notre Dame, lit the candles, and started walking past the Seine to the Louvre.

It was quite a walk and we were happy when we arrived.

"There are no crowds, that is good Patricia"

"No Nino, there are no people at all, just us"

I found a sign:

"La Musée est fermé le Mardi"

The museum is closed on Tuesdays.

I don't know how we do it.