My Date in Paris
I saw her through the crowd.
(Actually, I was handing in my room key in the morning and she was asking for directions to the Louvre. I was headed there myself, so I decided to ask her if I could follow her. It had been a wonderful, but lonely, morning at Musee d'Orsay the day before and I was hoping that she was as interested in having a person to discuss the art with as I was. We hopped the Metro, strolled through a gorgeous park, jumped the line at the Louvre and spent three hours wandering, discussing the art and having a delightful time. Her name was Carolyn, a Canadian science student working for the summer in Lausanne and on a weekend trip to Paris.)
We agreed to meet for dinner at 8.
(Actually, it was more like, "Hey, I had a really crappy dinner last night by myself and want to splurge on a good meal while I'm here and you seem like a nice person so we should have a nice dinner together tonight." However, both of us had errands to run, so we split at the Louvre for a few hours. I got my Cyprus tickets taken care of, arranged transport under the Channel to get to London, checked out the Arc de Triumph, sauntered down the Champs Elysee, got my modern art fill at the Pompidou Center, checked my email, set up a hostel in London and took a nap. By the time we actually met up, it was 8:30.)
She appeared in a luminescent red dress.
(This is sort of true. It was her shopping splurge in Paris and it did look great. I was feeling a little underdressed in my only pair of nice pants and my simple-yet-stylish blue shirt.)
We headed to a candle-lit restaurant.
(Not even close. I found a nice-looking restaurant on a tiny, exclusive island near Notre-Dame. The place was an all-you-can-eat French feast, which is supposed to be like the king of Gaul used to enjoy. You start with overflowing baskets of veggies and sausages, enjoy a soup, a main meat course, cheeses, desert and all the wine you can stomach. It came recommended by gormands. Carolyn thought it sounded like fun. I was up for anything. And, while there were candles, it was certainly not what one would consider a romantic candle-lit dinner.)
We whispered sweet nothings to each other until 1am.
(Actually, we chatted about US-Canadian relations, travel, school and art until 1am, at which point the restaurant staff kicked us out. It was really fun, especially after the wine started hitting.)
And we capped off the evening with a stroll along the Seine.
(Yes, we did walk along the Seine, but it was more of a hustle and was exclusively for the purposes of getting back to the hostel by the 2am curfew. Eventually, I broke down and hailed a cab. It would have been a 2 hour walk.)
Paris is romantic.
(Paris is romantic, even if you are borrowing someone else's girlfriend.)
(Actually, I was handing in my room key in the morning and she was asking for directions to the Louvre. I was headed there myself, so I decided to ask her if I could follow her. It had been a wonderful, but lonely, morning at Musee d'Orsay the day before and I was hoping that she was as interested in having a person to discuss the art with as I was. We hopped the Metro, strolled through a gorgeous park, jumped the line at the Louvre and spent three hours wandering, discussing the art and having a delightful time. Her name was Carolyn, a Canadian science student working for the summer in Lausanne and on a weekend trip to Paris.)
We agreed to meet for dinner at 8.
(Actually, it was more like, "Hey, I had a really crappy dinner last night by myself and want to splurge on a good meal while I'm here and you seem like a nice person so we should have a nice dinner together tonight." However, both of us had errands to run, so we split at the Louvre for a few hours. I got my Cyprus tickets taken care of, arranged transport under the Channel to get to London, checked out the Arc de Triumph, sauntered down the Champs Elysee, got my modern art fill at the Pompidou Center, checked my email, set up a hostel in London and took a nap. By the time we actually met up, it was 8:30.)
She appeared in a luminescent red dress.
(This is sort of true. It was her shopping splurge in Paris and it did look great. I was feeling a little underdressed in my only pair of nice pants and my simple-yet-stylish blue shirt.)
We headed to a candle-lit restaurant.
(Not even close. I found a nice-looking restaurant on a tiny, exclusive island near Notre-Dame. The place was an all-you-can-eat French feast, which is supposed to be like the king of Gaul used to enjoy. You start with overflowing baskets of veggies and sausages, enjoy a soup, a main meat course, cheeses, desert and all the wine you can stomach. It came recommended by gormands. Carolyn thought it sounded like fun. I was up for anything. And, while there were candles, it was certainly not what one would consider a romantic candle-lit dinner.)
We whispered sweet nothings to each other until 1am.
(Actually, we chatted about US-Canadian relations, travel, school and art until 1am, at which point the restaurant staff kicked us out. It was really fun, especially after the wine started hitting.)
And we capped off the evening with a stroll along the Seine.
(Yes, we did walk along the Seine, but it was more of a hustle and was exclusively for the purposes of getting back to the hostel by the 2am curfew. Eventually, I broke down and hailed a cab. It would have been a 2 hour walk.)
Paris is romantic.
(Paris is romantic, even if you are borrowing someone else's girlfriend.)
posted by Ethan at 3:37 PM
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