My first kiss...in Paris

Today started like any other.  Except I was in Paris, not Melbourne, and heading to the market, not work, with my good friend and travel buddy Aggie.  Yippee.

The sun was shining, the pigeons were cooing, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I waited for the lights to change at rue de Rivoli thinking about what goodies we'd buy at the market.  "Excusez-moi a quelle heure est-il?” I heard a man ask.  I turned to my right and laid eyes on a tall, dark stranger.  Really….could my day get any better?  Up until 5 seconds ago my thoughts had been on how much buerre we'd buy, but funny how quickly things can change.  I told him the time which I’m glad was on the hour as anything past the half hour I find quite challenging and it could have gotten a little awkward.  He smiled and asked if I could help him as his watch had come off and was having problems getting it back on.  Hell yeah.

Mission accomplished he looked into my eyes and muttered “merci beaucoup” as he gently lifted my hand, and softly kissed it.  My legs started to tremble as it was one of those magical moments when everything around you stops and you’re truly in the moment.

Thud.  That was me coming back to earth, bum first.  Okay this is how it really went down.

“Scuuuuuse...scuuuuuse”.  I turned to my right to see a drunk who was swaying so hard he was making me dizzy.  Whoa it was only 9am and this dude looked like he'd been hitting it all week!  True he did ask for the time (I think) and did ask for help to do up his watch.  Actually not so much asked as placed the watch in my hand and stuck out his arm.  I think it was a Casio (plastic & white), however my eyes were watering so much from the booze on his breath that I can’t be 100% sure.  It was probably a god send he was unable to string two words together as the more he kept his mouth shut the better.

To be fair Monsieur Boozalot did grab my hand and kiss it, however I’m unsure if he was being a true gentleman or merely trying to stay upright.  Aggie wasn't excluded either as he leant forward and planted one on her hand too.  At this point I suspect he may have tripped over his own feet as he lunged forward grabbing her hand to avoid face planting the pavement, but as drunk as he was I must say his touch was gentle so credit where credit's due monsieur.

Following the handpash Aggie and I made a hasty retreat and raced across the road.  Unfortunately the light was red not green (now we weren't just not able to speak the language fluently, we'd also lost our ability to differentiate between colours) and nearly got mowed down by oncoming traffic.  Giggling deliriously we headed to the market and bought buerre and lots of it.  I mean after all it had been a stressful morning and we deserved a little treat.

I love that I’ve got a vivid imagination and think I’ll stick with version one for just a little longer.

Ah Paris it's good to be back. x