I awoke to a beautiful cloudless summer morning, and as I gazed out the window at the gold dome of Les Invalides gleaming in the sunlight I was still pondering what to wear on my first "official" date with Low. I knew he had a penchant for walking, so the most comfortable shoes possible were in order. Trouble is, the most comfortable shoes aren't often the cutest, in fact when one can accomplish being extremely comfortable and ultra chic at the same time it is a coup d'éclat - right girls? Plus, in Paris anything can happen weather wise. It can be bright and sunny one moment and before you know it, gale force winds are blowing rainclouds your way! Tropical style thunderstorms are not at all unusual in summer, so I had to be prepared for anything while remaining stylish and comfortable. Oh la la! I decided to phone him to see what he had in mind for the day before making my decision. "Good morning cherie, did you sleep well?" Low sounded cheerful and ready to take on the day. "Do you still want to meet for lunch?" he queried, "and maybe a little walk around town?" (I knew it! The scales were tipping toward jeans and tennies). "I'd like that" I purred, "where shall we meet?" As it happened he was staying near Bastille, not far from where we had our chance encounter the night before. "There is a great little café called "Les Pharohes" at the Place de Bastille" he suggested, "they have the best jambon et frommage sandwiches, my favorite! I love a cup of coffee with ham and cheese on a baguette, it's fabulous!" I happen to agree, (if you switch the coffee for a cola) so we firmed up our plans and rang off. Our conversation did little to resolve my wardrobe crisis however, but first things first - time for a shower and a "brazilian"! The Place de Bastille is quite large, with several sorties in the metro to choose from. The circumference around the Rond Point can take 10 minutes or more to traverse on foot, and I hoped the "meeney-miney-moe" method was on my side as I made my choice. I was already a little late. As luck would have it, "moe" came through and I found the café easily, and as I approached I could see by the smile on Low's face my tardiness was still within the realm of the adorable. He stood to greet me (5 bonus points) and we kissed cheek to cheek, the typical french hello. He was savvy, he had arrived early enough to choose the best table complete with an excellent view, just enough shade, as well as potted plants nearby acting as a buffer from the crowded sidewalk. The lunch crowd was just beginning to arrive as we ordered our sandwiches, and we chatted easily as we watched the "Bou-bo" work the pavement. Noon on Sunday at Bastille is a sight to behold. Young, muscular boys in skin tight tees and a 3 day beard swagger confidently like cocks in a hen house. Beautiful, tanned women in casual chic and the right sunglasses run their fingers through perfectly tousled hair as they smoke a cigarette and command complete attention. Forget poodles - Jack Russell terriers are the dog du jour! You can literally smell the money in the air as the scene plays out before your eyes. Fortified by lunch and a healthy dose of people watching we began a leisurely stroll through the streets of the Marais. One of the only neighborhoods whose shopkeepers open on Sunday, we explored a few galleries and boutiques, and shared a delicious piece of baklava from one of many traditional Jewish delicatessens. "I have to go to London tomorrow" Low announced, quite out of the blue. "I'm working on a project there." He explained he was directing a stage production, but true to his nature was very "low key" about it, and didn't offer too many details. "Do you like musicals?" he asked. Is a bear Catholic? Does the Pope... (well you know). "Of course! I love musicals!" "Would you like to go to the theatre next sunday?" he offered, "I thought I would come back to Paris for the weekend and take you to a matinée." It was a show I had always wanted to see, and I didn't hesitate to accept his invitation. Smiling, he gave me a little kiss and we continued our walk through Paris hand in hand, ending up at the Opera Garnier somehow. Low bought two bottles of cold water from an (unlicensed) street vendor and we sat on the steps of the opera house with the tourists and the teenagers to rest our feet and watch the world go by, in true french style! We kissed on the steps as huge double decker tour buses ambled by and amateur photographers on vacation captured our PDA for posterity. I felt like a real parisienne that day, being kissed openly by one's lover in Paris is a rite of passage! But our date wasn't over yet.....join me next week for your Friday night French Ro-Com and see what happened next!
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