This part picks up from our taxi ride in Paris with Jean-Paul. Before we continue I would like to comment on the way in which my parents related to me as I was growing up. This is neither an endorsement nor condemnation of their approach. It is looking at it as a parent myself, that I gain greater insight into who they were then. And as a result of that, who I am today. Take into consideration that my upbringing was also tempered by uncs' influence. The juxtaposition of these different styles of child rearing produced the result you see today. I want to make it clear that I blame no one for my mistakes. They are mine to own and cherish as the building blocks of my character. Without which I wouldn't have the blessings my life enjoys today. Today my partner was remarking on my complete lack of short term memory in contrast to my elephant like capacity for remembering the past. I offered this possible insight and explanation. A handicapped persons senses grow more finely tuned in order to compensate for the deficit. The adage that nature abhors vacuum probably bests describes my theory. I have rather severe ADD and it is something of a challenge to do what comes so easily for others. I propose that perhaps my acute long term memory has grown out of a lack of short term memory. I've mentioned that as I write this more and more doors are opening to my past. At times it's like traveling down a long twisting hallway with doors that open to other hallways and then more doors, seemingly endless. Even though I do find my way back, it leaves me with an odd pulling sensation to dwell on the inevitable regrets that we as humans carry with us on our journey. O.k. enough with the home spun philosophy, let's get back to Paris. Ah, yes we will always have Paris won't we? It was imparted to me that we can never go home. But I propose that with an understanding that it will be as different now, as we are from then, we may visit it like a person you don't remember. We all have had the experience of meeting strangers who feel the urge to blurt out "I knew you when you were just this big." As you can imagine my reply went something akin to "Well, how nice for you. May this meeting be as forgettable as our last." My mother never slapped me. She would however almost telepathically impart that discretion is the better part of valor. An anonymous quote I recently stumbled upon:
: "The better part of valour is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life." As said by Falstaff in Henry IV Part One. From memory, I think Falstaff is hinting that he has hidden or even played dead when on a battlefield in order to avoid any personal danger. These days, the phrase means more generically that caution is a smarter policy to adopt than hot-headedness. This being a comment on Shakepeares' possible meaning. Her meaning was a bit less subtle. It's essence was that "Young man sarcasm is the lowest form of wit and I expect better of you." I would then yield to her compassionate judgement and reconsider the consequences of being what she termed a "smartalick" better known today as a "wise-ass" Wow, that was a tangent. Jean-Paul sped around looking for the perfect people watching spot. He found one at a outdoor cafe he frequents on his days off. The scene went something like "If I had one suggestion to give a tourist I actually cared about, it would be to stop running around looking for Paris. You will never find her . She is an elusive lover who only comes to you if you are at the right place at the right time. We laugh at tourists running themselves silly and neither finding the real Paris nor enjoying the search. " We circled the city as he told us this. Then like batman in a hurry to find a restroom he swerves across several lanes of traffic to pull in front of this series of outdoor cafes. I am positive that he didn't look before he swerved. Coming to a jolting stop he turns off the engine and turns around as our bodies recoil in unison to there original positions to say "There my friends, you've seen Paris. Now go sit down have a nice long European style meal. Take a long digestive stroll around the galleria and enjoy the art. Find another cafe across the way and wait fir her to arrive. I promise if you do this she will." He winks, my dad pays him and says "Merci Papa, you will have your hands full with that one there." he says pointing at me. They both laugh exchanging something in French. It appears to be a man to man thing so my mother and I are left out. There is a seemingly homeless man playing an accordian with a beret on the ground in front of him. I lean in to my mother and say "I would say he definitely has Van Goghs ear for music." shocked she turns to me and says" Young man If you don't stop this incessant rudeness I'm leaving you in the hotel by yourself." Still not entirely pleased with my work I continue " Mama can I help it if I'm as confused as a baby in a topless bar?" Seeing a smirk I say " I know it's in there mama let it out it's served its' time, let it free." At this she laughs, grabs my head and ruffles my hair. To this I respond "Yo, woman off the doo..." I can't finish because I start cracking up. I think it's because we are all sleep deprived and giddy. My father who is in a good mood, approaches with a smile and says "Let's eat I'm famished" we all concur and begin checking menus only my father can read. He translates what he can. We stop at this outdoor cafe and order 2 cafe au lait and Hot chocolate with extra whip cream for me. It arrives and we are all in heaven . My mother says" That's the problem Julius." to which we both turn and say "What?" She smiles and says " There's way too much blood in my caffeine system" My father laughs and I say " So-so mama so-so" as I teeter-totter my down turned hand back and forth. We have incredible food. I had Calves liver wrapped in bacon with a bunch of other dishes. My mother had Coq co vin and my dad cous-cous with different meats and vegetables. They had wine, while I drank orangina. I saw a side of my father I never did before. He was suave, less business like and a pleasure to be around. I had no idea he knew so much about art, architecture and history. I would quiz him from the Michelin guide and not only did he know it, he went way beyond the scope of it to give it form and substance . We walked around, looking at the artists and their work. My father would study them and explain their style and the history of that style. It was actually interesting. Then there were as Jean-Paul would say a veritable ocean of feminine treasures to be explored. We saw and experienced the rhythm and movement of the city's soul. This is definitely not on any tour or guide. We were still to full for dessert so we decided to walk back to the hotel when all of a sudden we all looked at each other and screamed "The Luggage." Normally my father would be livid, this time he just said "Well, easy come , easy go" This took my mother and I by surprise. she said "I guess you really are on vacation Julius." I said " You know I bet Jean-Paul will bring them to us. Does he know where we are staying?" I can see my dad thinking, finally he says " I honestly don't remember. Well,we wanted an adventure. This is it, or at least its' beginning." Surprisingly we all were in a good mood and meandered to our hotel to find our luggage waiting for us in front. My dad pops up " What do you know home seeking luggage." We go to the desk and check in. Which means leaving our passports and a bunch of other exciting paperwork. It seems our taxi driver Jean-Paul left a note and his card for us . We go up to our room and crash. I wake up to the smell of rich delicious chocolate and bread. My mother has taken upon herself to call the greatest service know to man kind. That is room service without a doubt. We go out on the balcony and quietly enjoy the mornings treats. My dad is deeply ensconced in the Herald Tribune reading something by a man named Art Buchwald. It must have been funny, because my dad was in stitches. The newspaper to him is like a sacred religious practice culminating in the finish of the days crossword puzzle. To try to get him moving before this process has taken place wuld be to say the least sacrilegious. Returning to Mr. Buchwald it seems he is no stranger to Paris. This is where he became famous with his articles on political satire. He is best known for being an American humorist. He also met his wife in this very city. If you want to know more about him click the link:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art_Buchwald
Having finished all of our morning rituals my dad proposed a few possible plans for the day. We all agreed to get the toughest out of the way first, this being The Louvre Museum. To know more about this enormous repository of the worlds mos valuable art. Click link:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louvre
The first obstacle is the long wait to get in. You are immediately faced with a crowd of epic multitudes struggling to get a look at the Mona Lisa behind glass. The best I ever saw was a tiny like postage stamp view from afar reflecting the peoples faces. Having had some experience in museums we each headed our separate ways to explore and rendezvous back here in 3 hours. I remember being more impressed with the enormity of the place than the art itself. We returned and decided to eat and continue the tour. Following this we went to Notre-Dam a Gothic style Cathedral with something that to this day makes me chuckle. This is the ever popular and highly respected "Flying Buttress" I put a photo of a video game that better explains what one is. It's the name that gets me. The other thing that fascinates me is the lost art of stained glass windows. I find it amazing that there is still somethings science hasn't taken the magic out of. I will leave a link if you are interested as well: http://www.thestorefinder.com/glass/library/history.html
So after this we return to our hotel and I am asked to take a walk and given Francs to find something to do for a couple of hours. All I can say is what Bugs Bunny likes to say "They don't know me very well, do they?" It was like a liscense to find trouble. ironically no matter how hard I looked there was none to be found. This plan thwarted I did find a knife merchant who sold switch blades. There is nothing cooler to a teenage boy than be able to buy something illegal in a foreign country. So I checked out the various ones and found I had enough money for 2. Returning to the hotel armed and dangerous I went up to the room and knocked so as not to find something that might permanently damage my fragile psyche. They were done with whatever it is they do. I go to the bathroom and come out naked . I start bouncing on the bed singing some tune I had heard in the street. My father yells for me to stop that and of course it only encourages me to bounce more. He finally gets angry and starts chasing me around the bed as I bounce back and forth just out of his reach. Now becoming infuriated he lunges for me and I easily bounce over him to the other bed and freedom. This continues until he reaches a nice shade of purple. He realizes he can't catch me so he turns around to the mirror pretending to lose interest and starts getting dressed. I miscalculate my jump and fly off the bed and slam into my father as he has one foot in a pant leg. He goes smashing into the corner of the dresser and lets go with a grunt that spells both serious injury and a rage I have seen before in others. I know enough to run and escape from the room as my dad limps behind me gurgling death threats. My mother tries to calm him down . I know better than to count on that miracle happening.I haul ass out of there as fast as I can. I run to the end and around the hall. I hear him following as I see a half closet just big enough to fit into. I open it and squeeze my naked ass in there and shut it tight until I can figure a way out of this jam. My dad is walking back and forth barking demands for me to surrender and take my beating like a man. I think to myself "No thank you I've already had a few more than a boy my age deserves." So I stay hidden and fall asleep. i sleep for I don't know how long when the closet suddenly opens startling into a state of fight or flight. I do a little of both I scream Aggghhhhh !@#$%^&*!! and leap over the person and begin to run when I hear a frightened voice of a girl yelling back and crying in French in the highest pitched voice I ever heard. Feeling a little bad for scaring this poor chambermaid, I raised my hands and approach her trying to apologize. She says something and then starts to giggle as she points at me. Suddenly realizing I am as naked as a Jaybird I cover up and gesture to her to please pass me something to wrap around me . She does and is between laughing and crying as I cover myself. I put my hands together in a prayer motion and begin bowing saying "Perdon, Perdon." She smiles and gives a shy little wave. She goes back to work still talking to herself and I go back to the room and gently knock. My mother answers and has me come in. I ask "Is dad still going to kill me?" she says "No, but the doctor thinks he has a hernia" My mouth drops and I realize I did really hurt him. She adds " It might be a good idea for you to say in tonight. I ordered you room srvice and will tuck you in when we get back. I start to say something and she cuts me off with " Not now Jody, just try to be good and stay out of trouble. I'll take care of your father." She leaves and the reality of my actions start descending on me. Well that's it for tonight. Once again would like to give a shout out to my dad who is reading this "I am sorry and I love you" Thanks and goodnight. Jody
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