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 Next
day we walked around the Right Bank and then crossed to the old
bookshops on the Left Bank. We went to the Montmartre near the Church
of Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart), got our caricatures done by roadside
artists and visited cafes at the Champs Elysees. It was our last day
in Paris and it was also my husband's birthday. We were to catch a
9.30 p.m. train back to Calais and our ferry to go back to England.
There was plenty of time for that, so we decided to spend the evening
in the Latin Quarter (Quartier Latin) and eat at the Greek restaurant
on Rue de la Huchette as suggested by our train companions. We
checked out of our hostel, left the luggage at reception and decided
to walk to the Latin Quarter. After going round and round with a map
for a long time, we found we were lost and decided to seek help.
We asked some teenagers to guide us to the Latin
Quarter and to the restaurant. We were speaking in English and they
were explaining in French, so we just could not get across to each
other. All of a sudden, they gave up and instead held our hands and
started walking. We zigzagged through the streets to the Latin
Quarter till we found ourselves on Rue de la Huchette and outside the
restaurant. We were very grateful to these wonderful young people and
wanted them at least to join us for a cup of coffee. But they
declined and went their way. We went in looking forward to our last
evening in Paris. Inside, we got a great reception from the Greek
proprietor. No Indian woman in a Kancheepuram sari had visited there
before. Some fellow customers took our permission to feel the silk
and touch the gold brocade.
We really did not know what to order since the
menu was written in Greek. I asked for something spicy with rice and
my husband asked for something very Greek. The Chef came out and
asked us to leave it all to him. First he brought us a large bottle
of Greek wine. We said 'Greek wine in Paris! Not done.' He said,
'Greek wine in Greek restaurant - done.' We laughed. Then we drank
and drank and kept laughing generally for no reason. Our food
arrived. There was spicy Greek soup and a dish of dry fish in spicy
sauce with mustard salsa and rice. Another dish was an exotic sea
food platter, from which I started munching at a piece. It was
nothing like I had eaten before. I chewed and chewed and chewed and
yet I could not soften the morsel enough to swallow it. Afterwards I
found it was the head of an octopus.
We ate and drank the entire bottle of wine and may
be another and were so drunk and happy that we forgot to keep track
of time in the midst of our little birthday party. Suddenly we
noticed the hours had passed and it was already 9.30 p.m., the time
of our train. We paid our bill (which came to a princely 98 francs)
in a hurry and left. Our money had almost run out, but we were not
worried since we were leaving that night and would not need francs
anymore. We made a dash for the Metro, another to our hostel to pick
up our bags and a final one to the station. But the last train for
Calais had left much earlier and the next was only at eight in the
morning. We tried to convey with gestures to the night duty ticket
examiner, who spoke no English, our precarious financial position and
asked where we could find cheap accommodation nearby. We could not
afford to miss another train. If we did, we would be overstaying and
our return journey tickets would become invalid, etc. After much
gesticulation on both sides, we gathered there were a lot of small
hotels and lodges around the station; we should look for one with an
English signboard, ask for a room on discount, with a wake-up call at
7 a.m.
Loaded with our bags, we started the search for an
English signboard in the cold December night. Suddenly we saw a
hand-written placard: 'English talking - American Speeching'. It was
a four-storied town house converted into a small hotel. The
receptionist was also the proprietor. We asked him for a room (he had
one on the top floor). Next we told him our story and offered to pay
all the French money we had. My husband turned out his pockets and
counted 42 francs in change on the reception counter. The proprietor
was a very kind man. He laughed and took 32 francs and returned ten
francs for our morning cup of coffee at the station. I am sure it was
much less than what he would have normally charged. He carried our
bags up four flights, showed us to our room and also promised to wake
us in the morning. He was an angel come to our rescue.
The room was large, with a bed in the middle and
big open French windows through which we could see the enchanting
lights of Paris at night. We were so tired and so drunk that we just
flopped on the bed without changing, without removing our shoes,
without closing the windows or the door, without lighting a fire or
even covering ourselves with a blanket. In the morning, when the
proprietor came up to wake us up, we realised that we had slept like
logs and were lucky not to have caught pneumonia. It must have been
the Greek wine. Through the window, we took one last lingering look
at this old part of Paris and left for the station. This time we were
on time. The ticket examiner was still on duty. We thanked him, again
in gestures, and he waved cordially as we boarded our train. Ever
since, I have carried memories of the cultured, hospitable and
helpful Parisians in my heart. My desire to go there again has only
increased in last twenty years. I hope there will be another time and
a visit as good as the last one.
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