{"id":6207,"date":"2014-09-25T01:11:01","date_gmt":"2014-09-25T01:11:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/?p=6207"},"modified":"2014-12-20T01:39:29","modified_gmt":"2014-12-20T01:39:29","slug":"parisian-women-on-bicycles-and-the-young-woman-in-the-cafe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/parisian-women-on-bicycles-and-the-young-woman-in-the-cafe\/","title":{"rendered":"\u201cParisian Women on Bicycles\u201d & \u201cThe Young Woman in the Caf\u00e9\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

Two years ago today, I was in Paris. I was there for two weeks, and I loved it. Loved it so much that when I returned, I wrote a mem\u00adoir about the expe\u00adri\u00adence. Fol\u00adlow\u00ading are two of the sketch\u00ades from the mem\u00adoir. I might pub\u00adlish the book of them some\u00adtime, but for now I hope you enjoy these two.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cParisian Women on Bicy\u00adcles\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Blonde<\/a>Every morn\u00ading while strolling or sit\u00adting in a cafe, I see them\u2014women on bicy\u00adcles in rush-hour traf\u00adfic. Upright, intre\u00adpid, mod\u00adels of excel\u00adlent pos\u00adture, they ride fear\u00adless\u00adly along\u00adside city bus\u00ades, their scarves flap\u00adping in their wakes. They wear skirts, high heels and no hel\u00admets, which simul\u00adta\u00adne\u00adous\u00adly thrills and hor\u00adri\u00adfies me. I don\u2019t know these women, but I wor\u00adry about them. I won\u00adder what jobs they\u2019re going to, and I won\u00adder if, some\u00adwhere in the city, one of them might be killed that day rid\u00ading to work. Some\u00adhow it seems impos\u00adsi\u00adble. I watch the bus\u00ades, the trucks. There is a syn\u00adchronic\u00adi\u00adty in the traf\u00adfic that pre\u00adcludes this from hap\u00adpen\u00ading.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not all of the women are objec\u00adtive\u00adly beau\u00adti\u00adful, I sup\u00adpose, but they are all beau\u00adti\u00adful to me. Their brav\u00adery or fool\u00adhar\u00addi\u00adness imbues them with an exot\u00adic qual\u00adi\u00adty that makes them a joy to look at. The way they glide along\u00adside the bus\u00ades, the bus mir\u00adrors only inch\u00ades from their heads; the way they smooth\u00adly nego\u00adti\u00adate turns at the inter\u00adsec\u00adtions, fol\u00adlow\u00ading scoot\u00aders right through holes between the cars; and the way they ped\u00adal crisply, care\u00adful not to get their heels caught on the pedals\u2014all of this makes them liv\u00ading pieces of art mov\u00ading through the city. I won\u00adder if any of them are aware of how they add beau\u00adty to Paris, and I think some are.<\/span><\/p>\n

These seem to have styled them\u00adselves espe\u00adcial\u00adly for their com\u00admute, con\u00advey\u00ading the tac\u00adit atti\u00adtude of \u201cIf I have to ride a bicy\u00adcle, I\u2019m at least going to look chic doing it.\u201d Their hair is care\u00adful\u00adly coifed, their scarves bright and col\u00ador\u00adful against con\u00adtrast\u00ading out\u00adfits. They ped\u00adal with faint, self-aware smiles on their faces, glanc\u00ading at men like me out of the cor\u00adners of their eyes. They flirt with us as they flirt with dan\u00adger on the road.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"cobblestone2\"<\/a>I\u2019m alone one morn\u00ading wait\u00ading to cross the busy Quai de Mon\u00adte\u00adbel\u00adlo near Notre Dame when I wit\u00adness a sight that near\u00adly caus\u00ades me to swoon. Coast\u00ading out of the ris\u00ading sun is a cin\u00adna\u00admon red\u00adhead (and I\u2019m a fool for red\u00adheads) on a Tiffany blue bicy\u00adcle. She wears a rak\u00adish pair of eye\u00adglass\u00ades and a sheer blouse show\u00ading a black bra beneath. It\u2019s the most shock\u00ading\u00adly sexy sight I\u2019ve ever seen. My eyes must dilate because as she whisks by because she gives me a know\u00ading smile. Men have left wives and chil\u00addren over less than this look, and for a secret moment I wish I were 20 years younger, and sin\u00adgle, and on a bicy\u00adcle beside her. But I\u2019m none of those things.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stand at the cor\u00adner, ignor\u00ading the chang\u00ading cross\u00adwalk sig\u00adnal, watch\u00ading her ped\u00adal away into the dis\u00adtance until she cross\u00ades the Seine at the next bridge and I lose sight of her. I wish I had some\u00adone with me to be a wit\u00adness to what I just saw, but recon\u00adsid\u00ader\u00ading it, I\u2019m glad that only I expe\u00adri\u00adenced the red\u00adhead on the bicy\u00adcle. I know then and there that it\u2019s a moment that was meant for me and me alone, and it\u2019s one I\u2019ll trea\u00adsure until the end of my days.<\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Young Woman in the Caf\u00e9\u201d<\/b><\/p>\n

We arrive at the Mus\u00e9e d\u2019Orsay, a for\u00admer train sta\u00adtion con\u00advert\u00aded into a muse\u00adum, an hour before it opens. The plaza in front of the entrance is windswept and emp\u00adty except for three peo\u00adple hud\u00addling in the tick\u00adet line close to the build\u00ading. Cross\u00ading the plaza, I spy a cafe across the qui\u00adet Rue de Lille.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go have a caf\u00e9 cr\u00e8me<\/em>,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"jfmain_large\"<\/a>Alexas, hav\u00ading learned not to get between me and my desire for more cof\u00adfee, acqui\u00adesces. We walk down the stairs, cross the street and enter the cafe. It is eight-thir\u00adty. Five locals crowd around the bar sip\u00adping espres\u00adsos. One man reads a news\u00adpa\u00adper, Le Monde<\/i>. I smile at the wait\u00ader and say, \u201cBon\u00adjour<\/i>.\u201d This is our third morn\u00ading in Paris, and despite the cold I have com\u00ading on from my rain-walk\u00ading the day before, I\u2019m feel\u00ading con\u00adfi\u00addent. I ask in French if we can sit at a table just inside the door\u00adway with a clear view of the street and the Mus\u00e9e d\u2019Orsay across it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPou\u00advon nous nous asseoir ici?<\/i>\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

The wait\u00ader nods crisply and says, \u201cOui, mon\u00adsieur<\/i>\u2014any\u00adwhere you like.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

We sit and he hands us a pair of menus. Feel\u00ading the effects of a cold com\u00ading on\u2014congestion and fatigue\u2014I decide I want some jus d\u2019orange<\/i> with my caf\u00e9 cr\u00e8me<\/em>, and so I order a com\u00adplete petit deje\u00aduner<\/i>, which comes with both and a crois\u00adsant. Alexas has th\u00e9<\/i>, or tea, and noth\u00ading to eat.<\/span><\/p>\n

As we wait for our food to arrive, we dis\u00adcuss my cold, which, since I\u2019m a mild hypochon\u00addri\u00adac, Alexas wise\u00adly decides to down\u00adplay. \u201cYou\u2019ll be fine,\u201d she says over and over. Tem\u00adporar\u00adi\u00adly appeased, I look around the cafe.<\/span><\/p>\n

There is a ground-lev\u00adel seat\u00ading area around the bar, and two oth\u00ader seat\u00ading areas up some steps. There are mir\u00adrors on the walls, prob\u00ada\u00adbly to give the illu\u00adsion that the place is larg\u00ader than it actu\u00adal\u00adly is. Our table is tin- or alu\u00adminum-topped, and I\u2019m star\u00ading at the reflec\u00adtion the over\u00adhead lights make in it when our orders arrive.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBon appetit<\/i>,\u201d the wait\u00ader says and walks away.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now, you\u2019re prob\u00ada\u00adbly won\u00adder\u00ading, \u201cIf this sketch is enti\u00adtled \u2018The Young Woman in the Cafe,\u2019 then where is she?\u201d Well, she\u2019s almost here. I want to give you some of the atmos\u00adphere first, because the look of the cafe and the feel\u00ading you get from the young woman are\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

Wait, she\u2019s here.<\/span><\/p>\n

She walks in and speaks in French to the bar\u00adman. Her body lan\u00adguage sug\u00adgests that she has nev\u00ader been here before, and the reg\u00adu\u00adlars who are com\u00adfort\u00adably gath\u00adered around the bar stop what they are doing to glance at her.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m a bad judge of people\u2019s ages, always assum\u00ading they are younger than they actu\u00adal\u00adly are (because I don\u2019t feel my own age), but some\u00adthing in the sure\u00adty of her pos\u00adture tells me she\u2019s in her late twen\u00adties to ear\u00adly thir\u00adties. Like a lot of young women in Paris, she wears eye\u00adglass\u00ades instead of con\u00adtacts, and in a nice\u00adly fit\u00adting gray suit, she has the look of an Every\u00adwoman.<\/span><\/p>\n

She goes to a table out\u00adside, hangs her purse on the chair back, and lights a cig\u00ada\u00adrette. A lot of women in Paris smoke, I\u2019ve noticed, and since I loathe smok\u00ading it makes me won\u00adder if I could ever find them tru\u00adly desirable\u2014if I weren\u2019t mar\u00adried, of course. Would I, like a lot of French men seem to, be able to over\u00adlook the habit? I\u2019m not sure.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"paris3\"<\/a>She shifts in her chair so that her pro\u00adfile is direct\u00adly to me in the win\u00addow. For a moment, as the sun catch\u00ades her full in the face, I admire her. Her hair as black as a raven\u2019s wing, her ordi\u00adnary eye\u00adglass\u00ades, her fine jaw line. She takes quick, ner\u00advous puffs on her cig\u00ada\u00adrette, and when the wait\u00ader shows up with her espres\u00adso, she dumps an entire tube of sucre<\/i> into it and stirs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Prac\u00adticed in the art of smok\u00ading and drink\u00ading cof\u00adfee at the same time, she holds the cig\u00ada\u00adrette in the crook between her fore and mid\u00addle fin\u00adgers, and pinch\u00ades the tiny espres\u00adso cup han\u00addle between her fore\u00adfin\u00adger and thumb. She sips the cof\u00adfee, puts it down, puffs on the cig\u00ada\u00adrette for a while and picks up the cup again. There is some\u00adthing des\u00adper\u00adate and lone\u00adly in this, and I start to won\u00adder what that is and what her life is like.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her legs are crossed and she leans back in the chair and gazes up the street at some\u00adthing I can\u00adnot see. Is she gaz\u00ading at some\u00adthing, though, or is she think\u00ading? I can\u2019t tell.<\/span><\/p>\n

Since she doesn\u2019t have a wed\u00adding ring, I imag\u00adine that she recent\u00adly split from her boyfriend. Who dumped whom, I won\u00adder. The gaz\u00ading and the ner\u00advous smok\u00ading sug\u00adgest that he dumped her, or vice-ver\u00adsa and now she\u2019s unsure if she made the right deci\u00adsion. But the con\u00adtem\u00adpla\u00adtive way she sits back in her chair sug\u00adgests detach\u00adment, as if she did what had to be done. The neat\u00adly pressed suit, her slen\u00adder build, her shoes with a low heel\u2014all of these belie a woman to whom career is para\u00admount. She is advanc\u00ading in her career, and the boyfriend resent\u00aded it or was get\u00adting in the way with his need\u00adi\u00adness.<\/span><\/p>\n

She turns her head to look at the loom\u00ading Mus\u00e9e d\u2019Orsay across the street and her black, black hair flounces on her col\u00adlar, remind\u00ading me of a girl\u00adfriend who would make booty-calls on me, long before the term exist\u00aded, and whose jaw was firm\u00adly set like this girl\u2019s when she refused to stay the night and instead dressed in a rush and, keys jan\u00adgling, hur\u00adried down the stairs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then again, maybe the girl\u2019s demeanor has noth\u00ading to do with romance. Maybe she has a major pre\u00adsen\u00adta\u00adtion today, or maybe she is unem\u00adployed and this morn\u00ading is the inter\u00adview for her dream job. What kind of work she does would be anybody\u2019s guess, and I leave the ques\u00adtion at that.<\/span><\/p>\n

I fin\u00adish my crois\u00adsant and caf\u00e9 cr\u00e8me<\/em>, wash\u00ading it all down with the jus d\u2019orange<\/i>, and declare to Alexas that I\u2019m not going to let my cold detract from this day. This is our third morn\u00ading in Paris, and today we check out of the hotel and into an apart\u00adment near Notre Dame. We\u2019re both excit\u00aded about see\u00ading a new neigh\u00adbor\u00adhood in Paris, and we dis\u00adcuss the plan to retrieve our bags from the hotel after enjoy\u00ading the Mus\u00e9e d\u2019Orsay for a few hours, and when I look up again the girl is gone. This pains me, because although she is a name\u00adless stranger to me, I have moved over 40 times in my life and the idea of anoth\u00ader per\u00adson com\u00ading into and going out of my life fills me with an emp\u00adty sen\u00adsa\u00adtion, one that I have felt far too many times before.<\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Two years ago today, I was in Paris. I was there for two weeks, and I loved it. Loved it so much that when I\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":6214,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"wp_typography_post_enhancements_disabled":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[75,58,7,14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6207","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-memoir","category-paris","category-personal","category-writingexperiences"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6207","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6207"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6207\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6320,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6207\/revisions\/6320"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6214"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6207"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6207"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6207"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}