Rue de Paris

Nice
Friday, August 3, 2007

The youths, being the night before the wedding, are out doing what they always seem to do on such occasions – partying as bachelors and bachelorettes. In my long and varied life, I have never been to a bachelor party. It never occurred to me to throw one before my own marriages, and no one else suggested it, either.

If what male friends I’ve had held them before their marriages, I must not have been invited. Come to think of it, as most of my same-gender friends are gay, or got married far from where I lived, it’s probably just as well.

Possibly, this old (?) tradition is being reinvented by the present generation – that, at least, is what I choose to believe. I prefer these days to not consider what I may have missed in my life, but what I continue to see, smell, touch and feel in the present moments.

Readers beware: This will become a sensuous blog before it is over, Clouds have appeared over Mediterranean Coast tonight, though they appear to be dissipating even as I speculate on their intention. The weather lady on TV seemed to be excited, but if the graphics told the tale, we are in for one hot wedding tomorrow – around 90 degrees.

The usual refreshing night breeze is weak so far tonight. The window to my balcony is open, and in the windows opposite, I can see an old man, shirtless, milling about, while an old lady in a black housedress irons their clothes.

Girls back from the beach, partly hidden, reach out from behind the shades to hang their bikinis out to dry, though they are so tiny it would hardly seem to be a necessary gesture, especially the tops, which never get wet. A man with a large stomach dressed in shorts hangs over his balcony, smoking, and watching the foot traffic below.

Yes, we are having a party here at the corner of 20, Rue de Paris and Rue Lamartine. As the youths do the town, the Ancient Mariner decided to shop like the local he’s already become, traversing familiar streets to a well-stocked market, where he put together his Friday night meal.

Starting with sliced cucumber with sel fin and cornichons extra-fins au vinaigre, he soon progressed to Mouisse de foie and Petit Camembert on Pain de Mie accompanied by a nice Rose.

After a palette-clearing splash of Fiz Agzume, he proceeded to sample Duo de Pates et Courgettes Grilles ('yer basic veggies pasta salad), the jus de citron removing all memory of Rose from the experience. Now, it was time to munch some chips a’l ancienne, and the main course, salmon fromage frais on pain polaire.

This, naturally, required the return of Rose.

For dessert, there is yaourt gourmand, noix de coco, and an array of fruits.

Set aside for breakfast, along with the leftovers, are les sardines a l’huile vegetale et au piment.

* * *

On my way back to my hotel, where the party was to take place, I stopped at a window where kittens and puppies were playing, on display for sale, though by now of course the shop was closed.

I remembered that the best way to meet girls is to have a pet, and sure enough, within an instant a very pretty, dark-haired girl had joined me. “They are so cute,” she squealed, appealingly. One especially charming little pup caught her attention. “I want it!”

Instinctively, I knew she meant by it, mind you, not what I had to offer, but the puppy. So, reluctantly, I moved along, as more girls and more squeals reacted to the window scene. Alas, I’ve reached an age, where women smile at me only because I am no longer considered eligible or interesting, just safe and harmless.

If only they knew what my girlfriends know, ha!

Well, back to this party we are having here at the corner of Rues Paris & Lamartine. Our eyes, it turns out, were bigger than our stomach, which reminds me of a story about my little girl when she was around 3, some years ago now. She ran out after being chastised by her mother for failing to eat her meal to ask me, “Daddy, why are my eyes getting bigger than my stomach?”

Tomorrow, she will be married, once again. As her husband said, “After all, you only do this twice.”

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