Evening

Kathypath and I sat in a small bar on a corner near the Centre Pompidou. We talked about everything and nothing - vegetarianism, roomates, and movies - and the people across from us laughed too loudly. The walls were covered with magazine cut-outs, some old, some new, and a woman's voice sang below in a bluesy, melancholy sort of way.

I baptized the place with the water from my Evian bottle and declared it out new hangout. She just laughed in the way she does, and I knew she knew I meant it. We had just outlined the week's worth of movies we're going to see (because we got an unlimited card for the rest of the year!) and I'm sure we'll be back there before the weekend.

As we left, the bartender said, "See you soon!" and I told her that means he knew about our baptism.

We said au revoir, I walked to the metro, and got on board. We went through the order of stations on the line four - I could know when to get off the train blindfolded. The smells, the sounds, the doors opening. I saw the bum I know at St Germain des Pr�s, I recognized the fruit-seller on his way home on the platform opposite. I know the line four like I know my own feet.

Sometimes I sigh. Paris is so beautiful and I've been so priveledged to live here so long. Tonight was one of those nights where everything was perfect, and so irresistably French in that mysteriously romantic way of this country. The air was cool, enough for a scarf, but not enough for a jacket. The French are fond of scarves, and I've grown to like them myself. I'll wear them wherever I may find myself in the future.

Kathypath had asked me from across the table in the cramped bar, "Do you think there are certain behaviors that we've learned here that we'll take home with us?"

"Yeah," I said, a little sad. Hundreds of them came to mind. "I'm sure."

"Well," she said, "I was referring sort of to the food. We eat less here. Do you think we could keep that up if we went back home?"

"Definetly not," I said.

And then I wondered how well the me that I know now will transfer to the me I will be back Stateside. Will I still feel confident or will it all disappear? Will I be as happy? Will I wish I had never left Paris? It's all just speculation, but a curious thought nonetheless. For right now, I just know I won't eat ribs or cheesesteaks. I'll stay myself when it comes to food.