Last night, after a wonderful day visiting the newly refurbished Musee Rodin, strolling by the Seine, sitting amongst Monet’s water lilies at the Musee Orangerie, and looking to find shelter in a brief cloud burst, a kind young waiter at the bistro on Rue St. Dominuque in the 7th where we were having a late night croque madame asked what our plans were for tomorrow. We told him we thought we might stroll through the passages couvert , 19th century covered passages where small boutiques sell antique books and photographs.
He smiled in a sad way, said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but you might wish to change your plans; the City may not be “the same” for a few days.”
And then he filled our wine glasses to the brim and said, “
you may need this.”
Together with the waiters and owner, we huddled in the bistro for a couple of hours, all checking our cell phones, all sharing news as we learned it. (Thank you ATT for our unlimited texting plan.) It seemed odd to be sitting in a Paris restaurant learning from our children and my sister half a world away what was happening half a mile away.
We traded hugs with the waiter, wished one another “Bonne chance” and walked home down an eerily quiet street. Fumbling, trying to remember the code to unlock the door to the ground floor of our flat, we traded kindness with a young couple from England, and climbing up the stairs, joked that this would not be a good time to learn we had been double booked in the same AirBNB.
Suzanne monitored the BBC on her laptop. I tried as best I could to understand French television. Shortly before we went to bed at about 2:00 a.m., I looked out our window to take a picture.
The lights on the Eiffel Tower, which were so brilliant before, were out.