sunday was my last day in paris, and i was all by myself. the squirrel left for the airport around 2, and for a while i stayed in the room and worked on this blog. i had done a lot of my packing saturday night, so i didn't have to spend too much time on that. i had a sorta vague plan to go out around 4 or 5 -- i remembered that we hadn't gone to cafe de flore (the other famous latin quarter cafe besides les deux magots, and conveniently right next door to it), so i thought i'd go there and then see what developed.
before i left the room, the squirrel phoned from the airport and said she'd read about this restaurant called kong (of all things) at 1 avenue de pont neuf, which overlooked the pont neuf and was designed by philippe starck. she said it was supposed to have an amazing view over the bridge. i told her i was planning to go to cafe de flore but said i might check it out (the address was easy enough to remember). she said she had a good time and thanks for coming with her to paris. i said me too and felt a little verklempt, surprisingly, so i got off the phone and finished getting ready.
the clouds were rolling in again as i put on my ipod and walked to cafe de flore. i had my umbrella, of course. on the way i passed this saxophone player serenading people at one of the many corner cafes along the boulevard saint-germain -- the usual cheesy standards. despite encroaching clouds, it was a nice evening for a stroll.
got to the cafe and was seated on the glassed-in terrace by a window. decided wtf and ordered foie gras with my wine. the waiter put a big round paper placemat on the table with a drawing of the cafe packed with people of all stripes, and people in the street walking by. the drawing was much like the scene that really was before me -- outside sat lots of people having a drink, a smoke, and a cellphone chat or a talk with their lover or mates. inside were also many people: an older couple sitting next to me had coffee before meeting up with some friends and taking off for wherever. i was facing two teenage girls at a table who had loads of pop/gossip mags. one was playing music on her ipod, and they were commenting animatedly on the different stories. behind me and across the aisle was a table loaded with incredibly beautiful 20-30somethings, including a pretty hot ginger man with a little soul patch. i sat there surrounded by excited, happy french conversation, and it felt normal to not be able to understand a thing.
directly behind me, a guy was speaking english, talking about contemporary movies or something. then the saxophone player from down the street showed up outside, playing his cheesy standards for a different cafe crowd. i just ate my foie gras and drank my wine, and wrote in my journal and smiled to myself at being alone in a crowd. i thought, i've been here 15 days and i've eaten foie gras all but two of them, i think. the version i had at cafe de flore was creamy and pinkish, but nice and duck-ish. (sometimes when it's creamy, it doesn't have as much character as when it's more country-style with the dark patches and the lovely, lovely fat.) and i wished i was facing the table of beautiful people, b/c the few glances i got of them were so fetching.
a dark cloud passed overhead. but i felt so good i had another glass of wine and watched as a drizzle started outside and people put up their umbrellas as they rushed past. i felt like the night was just beginning, and i decided i would head over to kong after all. i liked being in the cafe, alone and anonymous. i was trying to blend in with my black turtleneck and slacks and boots and leather jacket (and scarf!), but i'm sure i looked like an american (never mind the speaking giving me away). i didn't really care. i could smell cigar smoke and the sulfur of a struck match, and the rain-charged air.
so i paid my tab and thanked the waiter -- "merci, au revoir!" put my headphones back on and trundled back down blvd. st.-g. toward the bridge. this time i put on vol. 3 of my "best of the '00s" mixes and tuned out the city sounds.
it didn't take that long to get to the pont neuf, but i lingered on the street before getting to the bridge to take one more graffiti shot:
then i lingered on the bridge to watch the clouds rolling by (the photo at the top of this entry is looking across the bridge, and you can see where kong is, in that domed building waaaaay back there, to the right, next to the lamppost.
it was raining when i got to the place of kong. i felt nervous to go in by myself but figured what the hell. in the lobby of the building i read the directory and found out i had to go to the 5th floor. walking out of the elevator, i met the hostess and told her i just wanted le cocktail. she smiled and motioned to my right. the bar was deserted, nearly as empty as this photo i found on the internet:
i sat down in about the middle of this crazy flowery bar and set my stuff on the chair next to me. there was nobody else at the bar. to my right, the room opened up with tables, and there was one, maybe two, small groups sitting there. an adorable young bartender returned from serving the tables and asked me what i wanted. after two weeks of drinking wine wine wine, i decided i wanted a martini. avec tanqueray. so he made it for me -- it was strong and very good. with three perfect tiny olives on a toothpick.
the place was kind of weird -- sort of japanese, with chrome chairs and white/blonde wood, and on the shelves behind the bar was all this kitschy japanese stuff like video boxes and toys and suchlike. presently the bartender struck up a conversation, and i told him it was my last night in paris, and someone had told me to check this place out. his name was alex. after a while he asked me, "do you ... LIKE ... paris?" i was like, "well, yeah! i mean, the weather could be better, but it's pretty gorgeous." then i said, "do you?" and he downcast his eyes and gave me that gallic lip curl and shook his head and said, "NO! i am from the south of france! it is MUCH more beautiful there." and i was thinking, right. of course. so it turned out his life wasn't all that great. it's not like he was exactly complaining; we were just talking to each other like people, and i sensed he wasn't all that happy. or maybe he was just having a bad night. anyway, we also talked about music and other fluffy stuff, so it wasn't like a total bartender bummer. i actually quite liked him.
the music that was playing was pretty nuts, including some french dude doing a campy cover of britney spears's "baby one more time." nuts! then this chanteuse came on, singing "cry me a river" and other standards. not as good as hearing fiona apple sing that on jon brion's last night at the old largo, but still nice. i liked her voice. after a couple tracks, i asked the guy who was messing with the laptop -- who wore a spiffy suit that didn't quite disguise the seemingly very elaborate tattoo he had on his neck -- who was singing. he wrote it down on a business card: salome de bahia. a brazilian singer, i later learned. he also wrote "outro lugar," which is a song title from her album brasil. and i realize now i'm not sure if that was who was singing the standards too. anyway, it was a good soundtrack for the situation, whoever the singer was.
so a few more people showed up in the bar, mainly on their way to the restaurant. alex said, "did you know this place was in sex and the city?" and -- thunderstruck by the synchronicity -- i went, "no waaaay!" the series, not the movie, but still. so he told me i really should go upstairs and see the restaurant, b/c it's quite amazing. i asked if he thought i'd be able to get a table. he said ask the hostess. so i did, and she said sure, just tell her when i'm ready. i went back to the bar and finished my drink, then said good night to alex.
the hostess took my coat and umbrella, and after a minute i was escorted up the elevator to the restaurant itself. then it was another short stroll up some spiral stairs, and WHAM! a glass ceiling, a vast oval space that looked like this (except with a greyer sky and full of people):
i was seated at a table near the front, on the left side by the window. excellent view. looked over the menu and then sat for a while, staring up at the dark cloudy sky. all around me were mostly couples, chatting and smiling and holding hands and doing couple-y things. suddenly the sky was alive with tiny, darting arrows -- swallows! wow, it was so cool. then the waiter came, and i ordered softshell crab with a spicy sauce, and chilean sea bass with black rice. he insisted i drink white wine, so i had a glass of chablis.
omg, it was delicious. the crab with the spicy sauce ... heavenly. crispy and fiery and crunchy and just a little bit chewy. then the sea bass, white and meaty, with some kind of foamy fennelly stuff in a little terrine on the side to dip into. and the black rice was really intense -- chewy, earthy, and dark as the swallows flitting through the air. noir!
i had no room for dessert or cheese. i really wanted to try something else, but i didn't want to waste it. i just savored my last sips of wine and drank my evian and grinned to myself. i think i texted deb then and said thanks for the tip. i felt so happy and satiated. i knew i had to go back and thank alex too.
so i paid the bill and went down to the 5th floor to collect my coat and umbrella. alex was over at the tables, so i waited for him and then told him thanks for insisting i go upstairs. i had told him earlier that i was a writer. and he said, "you must be a special writer -- usually when people don't have reservations, they make them eat in the bar." i was very surprised, b/c i hadn't told the hostess anything at all. i dunno if he was trying to be flattering or what. (i mean, also, it was sunday night.) i laughed and said, "maybe i just LOOK important."
back on the street, i felt pretty good, but not all that drunk. it wasn't raining anymore, and i lingered on the pont neuf to see the eiffel tower do its flashy thing one more time. i headed back in the direction i had come. i had my ipod on and was singing out loud. then i came across some cops up ahead, who had the alley to my right blocked off. so i turned off the music. "bon soir!" i said and smiled as i passed, and they greeted me and kept on doing whatever they were doing.
somewhere around someplace, i veered slightly off course. i realized it right away -- and, luckily, notre dame is a pretty big landmark. so i was like, i gotta head toward the cathedral. so i did, and came out on the big plaza in front of it. the moon was shining murkily behind the clouds, and i ambled down the wide walkway, totally elated, like all of paris was at my feet. i passed by two guys wearing 17th-century dress -- i mean, wigs and long brocaded coats and buckled shoes and the whole shebang -- and couldn't help turning to stare as they walked by. what was that about?
when i crossed the bridge (i think the notre dame bridge), i turned to look for the moon again, but it was behind a tree. i stood to look at the seine, and fumbled in my pocket for my phone, to call 00soul. suddenly a french guy materialized at my elbow and said something to the effect of what are you doing? being as i was totally wrapped up in my own thing, i handed him the best line ever: "i'm looking for the moon." he hopped up and sat on the stone railing. "i will find it for you," said french guy. oh, brother!! anyway, i ended up having a chat with this dude in his izod zip-up sweater (fashion disaster, but he was cute), whose name was richard (ree-chard). he said he worked in london and was back in paris visiting family. he definitely was coming on strong, but what he didn't know was that rejection is my sport in any language and any town. so i finally put him off (although at one point i was ever so slightly worried he was gonna follow me -- but not too much, b/c i knew the desk guy at the hotel would help me if that happened -- but richard trundled off to the metro like a good lad when all was said and done.) this encounter actually didn't last that long, but it felt like a while, b/c i think i'd had quite enough to drink.
i watched him descend into the metro, then crossed the street and stood for a few moments by the fountain of saint michel to make sure he wouldn't come back up. and i slipped away down le rue de saint-andre des-arts to spend my last few hours in paris alone in a hotel room.
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