Photograph February #5

Paris, France has always had the reputation of being “the city of love” and has even been professed by some as being the most romantic city in the world. As to whether that’s overrated or factual, all I can say is that when we first arrived there, love was definitely not the emotion we were feeling. We had arrived in Paris, but our luggage had made it to some other destination unknown, and with all the confusion and futile efforts trying to find them, we missed our transfer to the hotel. We soon learned that in “the city of love”, brotherly love wasn’t necessarily guaranteed as we were charged twice the normal fare, plus a handsome tip I might add, by the very “nice and friendly” taxi driver who drove us to our hotel. The next day, because we still had no clothes, we walked around looking like “I Love Paris” billboards in T-shirts bought from the souvenir stand around the corner from our hotel.

While it was our Anniversary, Paris wasn’t chosen with any romantic notions in mind. It just happened to be one of the stops on our tour, but it also happened to be a time of some significance for the city. In 2008, the year of our visit, the Eiffel Tower was illuminated in blue, with the 12 stars of the European flag on its North face. This was to mark the occasion of the French Presidency of Europe, and ran from June 30 to December 31, 2008. This was also the year that preceded the 120th anniversary of the construction of the Eiffel Tower. In the end, regardless of lost luggage and the less-than-ideal start, we managed to have a great, and yes, romantic time in Paris.

Eiffel Tower, Paris France (2008)

21 thoughts on “Photograph February #5

  1.     Limbo luggage sounds like a horrendous experience. I admire people who can cope with difficult situations with a sense of humor (although I suppose the humor of it is realized a long time after the event). Stereotypes and reputations can be very misleading, and sometimes are only based on a song or movie: “I Love Paris In the Spring time… etc.”. But I suppose the full experience is the “thing”. So you can admire the “cake” of Paris but as they say “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” But in French besides having Marie Antoinette’s brioche, they, like we, have a slang word for money — we have “dough” and they have “butter”. As far as “you can’t have your cake and eat it too,” they have the expression “You can’t have both the butter and the money, and the ass of the shopkeeper too.” Ah, but you did have a great time. Amazing. I’ve heard that sometimes French men visit America and come back to Paris to have or sell butter at a bakery:
        Buttercup Babe
    Visiting America, I met her
    in a field of renoncules that
    locals call butter cups

    She’s my darling Buttercup
    a compatriot

    She wanted to offer me a partnership
    in her business and to share business.

    But much ado about love in the dew
    and then onward afield ’til

    we were back for a romp
    under and around
    the Arc de Triomphe
    to play like tourists and
    then marched to her home,
    palace of the cuisinière
    at the bakery de l’Étoile near Paris.

    We homed in on her nest
    over the bakery with zest, and
    she was hot because the
    spice of the day made for
    joy and frolic at home

    We chilled with a wine
    she recommended for the night
    and a tête-à-tête with an intimacy

    and as our voices modulated to a purr
    we unrolled a cloth like a sheet of dough
    and my Buttercup
    melted in the bed.

    We kneaded in layers of joy
    to be crisp and flaky like a croissant

    In the morning, I left early to buy butter and
    I had wondered: what is a croissant
    if to do it is not to have it?

    I came back uncertain.

    I proposed:
    My darling Buttercup,
    let me keep this butter,
    have the bakery, and
    I will make you a croissant with love.

    Well, she said:
    You want the butter and
    the money from the butter
    and le cul de la crémière…
    So you my love, must bring me
    a buttercup of the field and I will
    peer into your eyes until I decide
    if you’re flaky enough to cook.


    1. Thanks, yes. I wrote it around 2018. I have around 300 poems I don’t dislike and a bunch I’m not sure about. I experimented with trying to translate some into other languages but got stuck with French because I couldn’t get female subjects to stay female because the gender kept coming from the objects and I couldn’t understand how to do it. And there is no “his” and “hers” that I can see. But anyway, I stumbled across the saying… and so it went from there.

      Liked by 1 person

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