Paris, Je t’aime

Columns | Vienna Review | March 2011

Chambre 63. 10:48 a.m. A small ray of sunlight makes its way through the tiny opening in the heavy red curtains. I slowly open my eyes, turn to see if she is still sleeping. Rolling over I carefully remove the strand of hair from her face and gently whisper into her ear  "Bonjour ma cherie."

Snuggled into warm jackets, scarves and gloves, we make our way down Rue de Passy. As always we quickly stop at the little Moroccan fruit stand around the corner from our hotel before we head up towards Trocadéro. I have to admit, we do have our rituals ; and yet, it feels sooo good to be back.

Keeping a steady pace, we get closer and closer. Across the big étoile, I can already see Café Kléber – our Café Kléber. Before crossing the street, I take a quick look to my right and catch a glimpse of the tour Eiffel.

"Bonjour,  Madame et monsieur."

The warm air coming from the heaters hanging from the wood-panelled walls of the cafe make it bearable to sit outside. Life is tough for a smoker… even in - «  BEEP-BEEP BEEEEP »

I swing my head around and a car nearly takes off a fender in the street in front of us. That was close! They had nearly crashed. The traffic here is crazy.

"L’addition s’il vous plait." I settle up with the waiter, and we head out.

Making our way down the lively, boistrous streets, we hold hands – another trademark of the city that has always fascinated me. Everyone seems to hold hands here.  The smell of fresh baguette and sweet pastry escaping the small bakery shops, the beautiful narrow streets and the wonderful variety of cultures seen on every corner seduces me once again in this most remarkable and pleasant city, as it has become for me.

Paris, je t’aime…

- David Wörgötter

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