More Wine And Rose

It's hard to believe that we were even hungry again, but believe it or not, we were starving when dinner time rolled around. Taking a suggestion for dinner from my cousin's son girlfriend who is here on a semester abroad, Rosemarie and I headed out to the Montmartre section of Paris to Les Relais Gascon.

We are now seasoned Metro riders, so getting there was easier than finding our way to Notre Dame. But before we could get to the restaurant, we had to climb out of the bowels of earth. Up we went, bypassing the lift, thinking that it could not be much further. Around the staircase wound and despite getting a bit winded, Rosemarie stopped for a bit and marched upwards.

"There's no way you could have walked up the Arc steps," I said as we looked around the corner to find even more stairs. We could feel the night air, we just could not see the night sky. Finally, with my mother short of breath but quickly recovered, we found our destination, which was small, intimate and oh yes, complete with even more stairs to the second floor.

It felt like we had walked into someone's home and were their invited guest. Close tables, yet strangely hard to hear the conversation next to us, although we couldn't have understood it if we tried.

Of course, as the only one in the family who drinks, I ordered the wine and we began with our favorite French Onion soup. Although clearly not on the level of our last soup experience, this as well deserved to be soaked up by the warm bread. Learning from my last meat experience, we ordered our dinners medium rare and followed it with a chocolate mousse that lingered on your palette while we also carefully cracked the topping of the perfect Creme Brulee. Two desserts, especially in France, are far better than one.

Dinner tonight was something I would wish for any child and parent. A time to talk as adults about life and love and experiences never shared. Here, on a cool Parisian evening, with the last of the wine poured into my glass, and my lazy eye just now making an appearance, was a night full of conversations only dreamt about, only imagined that one could share.

Walking down the Metro stop was a lot easier than maneuvering it up and finally, at long last, we exited where we were supposed to at our stop. It's Monday and the streets of the Marais are quiet. Rosemarie was fast asleep as I went out to enjoy what the bottle of wine and lazy eye has started, but Monday in Paris is the same as Monday in Los Angeles. It's a pretty city, but not a pretty crowd. Everyone that is, except the tourist with the lazy eye.

Tomorrow is our last day in the city of lights - and from tonight, it has a lot to live up to.