Paris Neuf!
... A sleepy once-in-a-lifetime turn at the feast...
Hello! And welcome back.
Let’s recall from our last post, that we were slated to leave Paris at 7a.m. Saturday morning, in order to go visit the Loire Valley, to see all of the beautiful, historic-buildings in that region… On y va!
So here we are after-class on Friday, back at the Maison…
Do I really need to pack?.. It’s only a night-over..! Right?
Hell, I’ll be ready at six in the morning…! Of course I will.
Let’s get out and make a big night of it! Yes!
It was the second of the month, and I was headed to get my monthly-check from Dad.
The exchange rate was high in the Reagan years, hitting ten francs to the dollar on the day of his re-election.
But we were getting, like, eight-to-the-dollar anyway, which put me near 6000 francs a month, and that was enough to keep you in beer, and too-much-food if you wanted it.
So, by now it was just a habit; I’d go down, get a baguette, and pick-out a couple cheeses, and a bottle of wine, or get a bottle of Mumm for an extra 40 francs… It was glorious. Moreover, I think I single-handedly kept the Heineken factory rolling over those months.
Anyway, so, I was flush as we went out that afternoon.
We had a couple beers, and were on our way to the Mexican-place by six or seven.
I think it was me, Ron, and Vance, going to meet Tom and a couple other kids.
We got there at dusk; it stays light a little longer at those latitudes.
It was near Palais Royal, close to the Ballet school:
I remember the opulent building, happy people, and many girls in tutus, as I looked through the fogged-window, onto the dance-floor, at the girls currently at-lesson.
It was majestic and beautiful; a living history! Parisian ballerinas. Wow.
But the idea of Mexican food pulled me from my reverie… Mmmmm…
The restaurant was under a stairwell as I recall. We went in.
The interior was nice, but it didn’t have anything to do with Mexican as I knew it.
It was dark. We took a table in the center of the room.
Much of the decor was cheesy bullfight-posters, Sombreros, maracas etc., like if you were at a French restaurant in L.A. with Eiffel Towers all over it.
There were no chips and salsa, rather, it was baguette with hummus-spread…
Rocky Mountain Oysters were on the menu…Really? Oh, but with rice and beans!… Never heard of such a beast!
OK, I guess it isn’t fair to expect anything authentic so-far from the source…
But they did have one thing that made it ALL all-right: Imported Tecate beer.
With a lime.
It was cold and perfectly-delicious. You can bet that I had a few.
I felt so good and happy, that I ordered those Rocky Mountain Oysters!
It was a once-in-a-lifetime probably- but they weren’t bad, I think I ate most of them. The rice and beans were wrong, of course; more like cassoulet and rice-pilaf.
Everybody else was freaked on the Rockies.
Knowing what a goof I was, I now think that I probably ordered those just to watch everyone else squirm; probably acting the buzzed-clown. It could happen.
But also, always a curious-child, I don’t know if I could have passed-them-by and not looked back with regret. I mean, how often do you get such an opportunity?! Know what I mean? Oh, lucky man!
I think a few of the folks watched me eating them, and finally tried one.
They were very-like calamari, with a chicken-bent. Like I said- not bad.
I don’t remember much-more before the alarm going off at five forty-five.
Jeeeeeeesus… Oh dear Jeeeeeeesus…
Somehow me and Ronno got it together to get out the door by 6:30.
We stopped for espresso, and I had a hair-of-the-dog shot of cognac; it was a helper just then; made it seem like an adventure.
We got to the go-point on time. They were loading us into a large tour-van.
With everyone counted, it was about fourteen people; plenty of room.
We started rolling, with everybody up-and-chirping about the trip.
I seem to recall the teachers that were with us, trying to offer an agenda of scholarly-consideration, intended for our edification, in order that we could apply some newly-gleaned knowledge to the experience, and, thus, enjoy this meaningful trip so-much more for the better.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I slept.
We got most of the way there, and stopped in Blois.
Yes, it does look like Blow-us.
But it is not. It’s more like Blw-ah.
The first stop was to look at the Chateau Blois.
It’s a beautiful old thing, which I can verify, as I could see it from the parking lot.
But when you’ve been living, day-in, day-out with old, big stuff around, it just wasn’t that exciting.
Rest assured that, looking back, I think I was the most worthless sack of shit.
I slept.
About noon we got to Chateau Chenonceau and had lunch.
I was waking up.
Finally I was able to get out of the tour-bus, and get it together for the event.
Chenonceau is a gorgeous old castle built over a river.
It may be the single most beautiful place that I have ever been; all the boxes are ticked, and it’s not too tastelessly, pointlessly, huge… But don’t get me wrong, it’s damn big.
One of my favorite memories is of the floor-tiles in the gallery-hall that crosses over the bridge; they are set into an alternating white-tufa and black-slate checkerboard.
The slate is harder than the tufa, and so, as a result of four-hundred-plus years of use, the geologically softer-tufa has markedly worn down much farther than the slate; it is so pronounced, that it can trip you up in some spots. You gotta be careful, and pay attention when you traverse it.
But you will, indeed, want to traverse it, as it is laid-out down a hall that looks out onto the Cher river at every window.
The whole of Chenonceau is truly a masterpiece of architecture.
We loaded up into the van and began to head to the place we were staying, but first we stopped to buy some of the local wine.
Everybody Got a couple of bottles.
Chuck was all set to cook up a big pot of Coq au vin.
We got to the place.
It was a small stone-house that had been built in the fourteen-hundreds; yes, a little spooky- not in a terrifying way, but in that “Dark Shadows” kind of way.
There were gargoyles carved into the stone along with the date over the door “1421.”
We got inside, and the wine started pouring all-around, while Chuck cooked up dinner.
It was a good time; a fun idea; having the group all together.
Chuck passed around bowls of the hot Coq au vin.
There was also a lot of bread, with butter, cheese, and olives to fill you up.
It was great.
It was night now, and people started dropping-off to sleep, until there were just a few of us up, and talking at the table.
Since I’d slept all day, I was fine.
But, huh, It’s me, Vance, Tommy and Rochelle.
We were having a good time, really feeling happy and warm.
Suddenly Vance and Tommy decide that they’re gonna hit it.
So it’s about midnight, in the kitchen, with the fire going and a bottle of wine open, and me and Rochelle. Alone.
This was the first time that me and Rochelle had ever truly been able to talk outside of the group.
At some point, she leaned over to ask “You wanna do some coke?”
Do I want to do some coke?
Right then I would have said yes to anything.
She reached down her blouse, and pulled out a small-brown-bottle, and matching small-silver-spoon from somewhere between her formidable up-top.
I was having a hard time keeping everything together; it was a blissed-out, giddy, romantic-high, and then there was cocaine to top that up.
If there is a word to describe the feeling I had, I do not know it.
This was also a once-in-a-lifetime deal.
So we sat the next few hours coke-rapping and having a great time.
As the sun came up, we slipped quietly out the back-door, and decided to go exploring; very-high, and happy.
We were walking through heavy farm-fields of rough, straw-thick till.
We were alone, holding hands, and it was silent, but for the sound of our steps.
The sun was rising onto a beautiful day.
We wandered a good distance, and had gotten to a place that was a bit thicker than the rest.
She was having a time getting through this chunky terrain.
I knew what to do, and it all felt so natural.
I scooped her up and carried her for ten or fifteen minutes over those fields like that.
I remember her, small, round, and beautiful, in my arms. She was perfect.
The sun was climbing higher, the fields were still cold and wet, as a mist began rising up…
From here, forty years out, I know that I should have lifted her face to mine and kissed her, and kept on kissing and kissing and kissing her.
But I was better than I should have been, and carried her another ten or fifteen minutes back, where we called it a night, got into our respective beds, and crashed hard.
The next thing I remember was that everyone was up and making noise.
At about nine they tried to get me up to go to some cool place we were to see.
I refused to go, and slept.
Finally about noon we packed up and headed out to visit Chateau Chambord, which is a huge, impressive, three-hundred-some room castle.
It was immense and beautiful on the horizon, with a long gray-blue sky stretching out behind it. I remember being in awe of its size as we pulled up.
I then fell back asleep.
I think, by then, people were resenting the whole “Brennen is sleeping” thing, but hey, I’d been up all night partying with a dream.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
We all got back to Paris late.
Me and the guys still had to catch the metro to get home. But we got there.
Later, I remember one of the cooler-teachers trying to inspire me not to party so hard next time. It was nice of her.
Me and Rochelle never did anything crazy after that, in fact I don’t remember seeing her many more times during that trip. I think she was digging the foreign guys.
Funny though, I did run into her in the early nineties back in L.A.
I told her what I had been thinking; how beautiful she was, and how I should have kissed her, and all that.
She looked only a little surprised, and just smiled. I’m sure she knew all that.
But we were different folks by then. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime moment… and all that.
I know that now.
I know that now.
OK, kids, I’ll leave you with this. I hope you enjoyed our trip through Blois…
Next week the quotidian days accrue!.. Of course they do!
Have a lovely week.
