Memories.....

Sometimes you are lucky enough to have perfect moments, picture perfect minutes which remind you why life is worth living, and most of those instances are free and all they require is being in the right place at the right time with the right people for you. I know this seems very cliche and guess what? it is. But guess what? I really like cliches I have always thought that they hold true to life and how many times have I gotten yelled at for putting cliches in my english papers.......a whole lot. SOme may see this as me not being able to come up with original ideas of my own and perchance that could be true but maybe I like to ponder the mundane, the done before, the said before, because those sayings become ingrained in us. we take them for granted and we forget that if we really analyze them, apply them to our lives they hold true and even more so, they have a lot hidden behind them. I think when you really delve into cliches they have a whole other side that is anything but cliche. why it is so epiphanic!
So one day my best friend in paris, Marina invited me to accompany her on a date with her boyfriend. Some might decline for fear they would be a third wheel or might intrude, but Marina always made me feel most welcome and entirely included on any date she had. A true lady. How wonderful it is to have a best friend whose boyfriend is a doll, one doesnt realize how important these social interweavings really are. can you not think the horror of having a best friend whose boyfriend hates you? It can have disastrous consequence, that is why one must appreciate simple relationships which are pleasant and good and heartwarming and joyful. So off we went the three of us to get but what else? a crepe of course cheese with walnuts for me and we walked down the winding streets towards the Pont des arts and entered on a parallel street to the Seine as rain drops began to shower on our heads and faces. Usually I shield myself from rain eventhough I truly love every drop, but this time it just wasn't worth it. I buttoned up my shiny black coat and let my hair get drenched. It was already a mess anyway. I happily let the water quench my soul and nibbled away at my crepe I was still eating long after everyone else because I am so slow. Finally we entered the bridge and transversed the wooden panels. It was non sto rain now and my crepe was getting cold and wet but still delicious. I remembered who else had strolled on this bridge in Paris with me, my parents whom I had ambled across it with when very little, all bundled by scarves and cushioned by lvoe and mesmerized by the twinkling falling snow and my friend Newman whom I had rested against the railing with as discussed life at its very substance. For me now Paris' sites and streets finally held layers of memories and scenes of my experiences and now I stood alone fingers grasping the metal and gazed across an expansive vista. It was so beautiful so perfect. the sky was gray with fading light poking through the dense clouds and the quintessential Parisian building crowing the river, tightly packed together with elegant windows and black steel balconies, gracefully steeping roofs and famous monument's tips peeking through the maze of buildings. So this was pure happiness. Don't get me wrong I have been blessed to have a wonderful family, great friends, and amazing opportunities. I am so thankful for everything G-d has given me, but sometimes one forgets how to be perfectly happy with everything they do have. It was the most serene the most romantic and I remembered how my friends at home had taunted that I would fall in love in Paris I knew I wouldn't well with a boy at least. But we both had been right I had fallen in love with the city a city I had always admired but then standing in the middle of th ebridge in the middle of the river in the midst of the great city I felt so comfortable so content so enthralled by the majesty of its architecture and vibe that pumped through the city and I still wasnt done with my crepe. However with my friends' urging I was ushered over the bridge all too aware that perfect moments are fleeting. I knew it as I was gazing across the water. I knew it would be done soon I knew I would have to leave soon. But before we knew it we were in the courtyard of the louvre damn its a hard life. and now it was really coming down with people running to take cover under the massive archways but this was too perfect I had to frolic in the cavernous courtyard or at least twirl and I did with crepe in hand I spun round and round like a 5 year old and it didnt seem very silly at all.
Then we ran all the way to the Comedie Francaise to see Ubu Roi which can be characterized as nothing other than theater of the absurd and thank goodness I read the plot beforehand becuase it really let me concentrate on the French monologue as a crazy fat man who shouted merdre continually and his wife sought to overthrow the king of Poland. The narrator really just looked like the epitome of a Frenchman as seen in old comedic movies, slimy hair, sinewy, and drinking wine. My favorite part was when the evil men pretended to die and literally used their hands to gesture their innards falling out with obviously fake moans of death it was wonderful. The stage was always thread bare and the actors sometimes played several characters very humorous. Afterwards gaggles of people congregated outside and people slowly melted away.
Just days before Marina and I had drank at the cafe just opposite kitty corner to the louvre and the famous metro stop with the big bobbles of colorful glass bubbles. It had been there where we had once had risque little partay before heading over to the nightclub Paris Paris and meeting Jordy and his friends who then took us to the Social club, galavanting on Parisian streets in between......good times. But I digress, Marina had sipped tea while I swallowed cafe creme to the delight of our waiter who thought it would be a lark to be our language partner and thus asked for our numbers to practice English with. we complied giving him our friend Anna's number and saying we were both called Anna, Marina called Anna and me ANa and we shared a phone. She never did get a call though, Anna that it, what a shame indeed. But while we tried to ignore the waiter's presence we had literally savored every moment at that cafe people watching under the warm sunlight after Louvre hopping. We saw so many people so many personalities and get-ups it was a sociological seminar and I was in absolute heaven pointing out everyone and everything to my heart's delight. We did not want to leave and it was with sighs we did.
However, our lies reminded me of the other time in Paris where lying was quite amusing.
While thrift store shopping by the Pompidou in a hole in the wall a larger older man who obviously knew the owner, came onto my party and I asking us all sorts of questions. "Oh you ladies speak English. Are you from London" yes, yes we are. "What do you do there?" I study journalism replied my friend. "How long are you here we should get together" What a shame we are leaving tomorrow. " Oh" crestfallen" "next time then!" Turns to me and points to the owner "maybe when he comes to visit he can have a place to stay?" love to I reply but I just don't have the room. " Do you have a boyfriend then ?" A boyfriend? who is keeping track I don't count them. "Ah" he laughs and repeats it to himself chuckling under his breath and looking loningly. I swear not the dialogue was almost just that.BRILLIANT