Top of The World Ma!

Woke up today just knowing it’s gonna be a great day. Just finished reading my cousin Danae’s latest post from Paris which was great.  Aaahh Paris.  The City of Lights.  If I had only two meals left in my life, one would be a carne asada burrito with extra hot sauce from Lolita’s and the other would be a Croque Madame that I had at Cafe de la Mairie in the sixth arrondissement across from the Saint Sulpice.  If you don’t know, then, well, you don’t know.  Take the best grilled ham and cheese sandwich you’ve ever eaten. Take the top bread slice off, now top it with an over easy egg and there you go.  Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.  Imagine lightly smoked ham, (not bacon), fresh Gruyere that’s warm and gooey, slightly translucsent melting over the side of the Parisan bread slice that was baking while you were sleeping, with a side of fresh sliced roma tomatos and bib lettuce on a pristine white plate.  the only condiments needed is a little salt and pepper.  Sheer perfection.

Allen, I mean Henri just chillin outside the Moulin Rouge....

Now I had that meal when I first visited Paris. I was alone, 21 and didn’t have a clue what to do next.  I tried to look nondescript, but I knew from my white socks and Birkenstocks (can you believe that! I got it from my Pops), black and green neon backpack and white T shirt that said “Sevilla Expo 1992″  that Parisans took me for a tourist.  The first thing I did was race back to my hostel to change my clothes.  I pulled out my least dirty Levi”s, put on a plain white T shirt and my blood orange Doc Martins, (that I had bought at London’s Camden Market. England is another story). I set out on the city with just a few provisions, A map, a backpack, (not the neon green and black one), that held a half of a stale baguette that I had bought in Brussells, a half bottle of water and a half bottle of cheap Beaujolais that I had picked up somewhere, and the equivalent of twenty bucks in my pocket. 

Because of my limited budget, I figured I’d walk around the city til something caught my eye.  Being a tourist, the first attraction was the Champs-Elysées.  The main drag where Hitler had his Nazis goose stepping through Napoleon’s Arch when they invaded France during WW2.  It is a pretty walk, kind of a drag if your broke because there are shops and cafes to stop at.  Mostly for tourists, but I didn’t want to do the touristy thing, so I just strolled until I came across a tent hosting a Toulouse-Lautrec showing.  I’ve always had an affinity for Toulouse-Lautrec.  He reminds me of my Pops, (Pops is gonna kick my ass for saying that), but seriously, Toulouse-Lautrec is one of the unsung heroes of the Impressionist movement. 

 We had a print of a Toulouse-Lautrec in the house growing up and it scared the shit out of me because of unnatural colors he used to portray the Moulin Rouge.  I regress, anyway, I paid what was five bucks to enter, and when I did it was glorious.  I perused the paintings and drawings for about an hour before I met Sophie.  She had been in Paris for two months studying history at the Sorbonne.  She was there doing the same thing I was doing.  Just hanging out, enjoying the city. She

Growing up, this print scared the crap out of me, but I never told anybody.

was Québécoise, (French Canadian).   Her parents had sent her to Paris, not just for the schooling, (which is top notch), but because she had an aunt that lived in Paris, so it defrayed the cost of her education.  She was a dilettante; Iwas less than that.  We met  under Vincent Van Gogh.  He and Toulouse-Lautrec were buddies and TL did a pastel of Van Gough.  I didn’t notice her at first; her perfume wafted over me and I turned to look.  She was stunning to me.  Long brown hair, slight of build, wearing sensible brown flats, khaki capris, a sea foam green tank top and a light sweater tied at the waist.  I looked at her for awhile before she noticed me looking at her.  I felt like a pervert.  she turned and introduced herself, ”hi, I’m Sophie.”  Acting nonchalont I said, “hey, hello, howya doing?”  (What a fracking idiot!).  As my Pops would say, “you have to have hand” and at this point, I didn’t have hand, she was a queen and I was joker.  I felt like a rube.  Can you imagine all this shit was running through my head in like a fraction of a second?! 

 Here is the sweet part, she asked me to accompany her for the rest of the exhibition.  SWEET!   We ended up walking to the Eiffel Tower and from there walked to the Metro where we caught the #11 at the Hotel De Ville to Jourdain where her family lived.  She wouldn’t let me walk her all the way home.  She said her uncle would not allow it.  I tried to get her number, but she said she couldn’t.  I asked her to meet me at the exhibition the next day, but she said she was going out of town.  I could already sense that this would be the last time I would ever see her.  We kissed at the top of the stairs in front of the Metro.  It was painful

Sophie was staring at Van Gough while I was staring at her....

to say goodbye.  I watched her walk across the street and out of view.  I turned and went back down into the Metro, to my bunk at the hostel across town.  Yes, that was my first day in Paris… I LOVE PARIS!!!!