The Eiffel at Night* (to expand a bit on bk's post)

*He was so excited about all the beautiful ladies, I thought I'd give a more in depth and marica-esque account of the night.

Sunday night was my last night in Paris. It rained all day but the sky was still bright and things took on this different light that I'm sure only happens in Paris. The sky is still incredibly blinding on clouding days in Paris, everything seems a bit whiter than one would expect. I found myself squinting even on the rainy days. We decided to walk to St. Germain for dinner and hang out in a part of the Latin Quarter we hadn't explored (or he rather, I realized once we got there that it is where I had wandered the sunday prior and had my brief epistolary affair with the older gentleman over espresso and lunch.)

After wandering over Pont Neuf from the apartment, we settled inside Cafe Jade on 10, Rue Buci, a very hip and modern little restaurant/cafe/bar, though I don't think it made the superfuture guide. The walls were adorned with the names of famous artists from all over the world in bold colors. The crowd seemed our age, gorgeous in a very Parisian way...and yes the women were absolutely beautiful. They were all stylishly dressed, everything about them had that flair and simplistic style that we'd expected to find right upon entering France simply everywhere. It did dominate a bit of our conversation as every woman that walked into the room seemed a bit more alluring than the one prior. And at least to my and bk's probably ignorant standard of Parisianesque, they fit the bill completely.

The rest of our conversation was the sort of conversation that Paris breeds. At times heavy, at times wordly, at times thoughtful, at times philosophical and at times light and airy.

Diner was delicious. I had the duck, which was delicious and which if I close my eyes I can almost still taste. Bk had the rumpsteak I believe...I must say it makes me happy, the number of restaurants that serve fries with everything. We had two carafes of wine. The clock struck 10:45. I nearly turned into a pumpkin. My one goal for my last night in Paris was to see the tower sparkling at night. We had to run/walk back to Pont Neuf, which is where bk had suggested seeing the tower, as opposed to the foot of the tower. I am exceedingly glad that I agreed.

This was the magic I'd been waiting for it, that one moment to cap off my trip and make me completely sad I had to leave and return somewhere that could never be quiet enchanting or charming as this (though ny has its charms).

Standing at the northern most alcove of Pont Neuf, with the water of the Seine River dark green and swirling beneath me. The rattling of the rain against my big yellow umbrella muffling out the sounds of the city. The traffic at my back, the Norte Dame at my back, to my right and my left the dazzling Paris city lights and just like that she began to sparkle, her great big spotlight twirling in the clouds. Like a stationary firework, that never dies out. And I'd hate to be repetitive but it was incredibly magical. Everything was exactly staged like I might have been the starring lead in a my own little Parisian adventure movie. The entire city seemed to breathe and pulse and be there just for me.

I think I left a piece of myself there in that little alcove of the bridge or maybe I gave up something that I'd been holding onto.

I had a dream about it tonight, seeing the Eiffel Tower from the bridge, the entire moment, right down to my soggy tote bag seemed to recreate itself in my head.

I wish that I could have the same dream every night for a very long time.