One of my favorite things about our apartment in Paris is the bistro across the street. Not just because they make delicious food, but mostly because every time I come out to my balcony to smoke one of my Galoises Blondes Blancs I get a show.
I sat here this afternoon watching a beautiful interaction between a little girl and her daddy whilst they had a delicious lunch (every meal at La Garçonniere is delicious). She was an adorable little ginger, hair in a ponytail speaking as much with her hands as her mouth while dad sat there, gorgeous crop of hair atop his distinguished head, scarf dangling loosely off his neck. They were sat inside so I couldn’t hear them. Not that my French is so good I would have understood them anyway.
Dad laughed and answered with the same animation as his progeny and she sat there sometimes laughing and interjecting. At one point his leaned forward, chin in hand, elbows firmly in place on the table, smiling.
These are the little snippets I live for. Even now as I am sitting outside having one last smoke before bed there is a group of women sitting outside sipping on wine. One of them just got up and ran a circle around her friends and collapsed into her chair laughing her ass off.
Always there are people living.
On match night we get massive crowds there pregaming before a Paris Saint Germaine match, or an UEFA International match.
We actually were there one night after a match between France and Ireland. A somewhat intoxicated French fan asked if we were American and I answered in the French affirmative. He chuckled because, yes, even my oui sounds American AF. He tried to engage in conversation, but between his slurred French and my butchered Frenglish, he finally gave up. He seemed annoyed, honestly.
Until we were leaving I tapped him on his shoulder, pointed to his flag and shouted vive la France! That’s all it took and he hit me with the biggest smile and repeated with far more enthusiasm, VIVE LA FRANCE!
I threw my fist in the air and gave it back to him one last time before my wife and I crossed the street and headed back to our apartment.
If you ever find yourself in the 16th arrondissement you should head over to La Garçonnierre and have a croque monsieur and look up. It’s the perfect comfort food and I might wave hello.
