Paris In Winter ~ When Tracy Met Christa

Silly Christa, can you really have forgotten about our trip to Paris?

It must have been all of the wine you consumed.

Ah well. You have now forced me into reminding you, and into relating the story to the entire collection of interesting people who read this blog.

'Twas almost two years ago. Life had just come to be too much for me, so I decided to run away to Paris for a few days. So run I did. No plans, no thoughts, no telling anyone where I was going. I just jumped on a plane and left.

The first night in Paris I took a stroll down the Champs Elysee. It was beautiful. The sidewalks were bustling with activity. The trees which line the street were lighted up for Christmas. It was very cold. There were cafes everywhere. Everything Paris was supposed to be was all right in front of me. And I loved it.

As I was walking down the Champs Elysee, something quite odd captured my attention. A tall man in a chef's uniform. "Chocolate!" He was calling out at intervals.
"Chocolate!" And in his hands he held a tray of chocolates. Then I noticed there were quite a few of these men along the sidewalk, holding the trays out so that people could take what they wanted. And in front of one young man--a young girl. Perhaps 16 years old. Perhaps 35. It was hard to tell.

"Chocolates!" The man yelled out. And she took one. But she didn't eat it.
"Chocolates!" He yelled again. And she took one. But she didn't eat it.
"Chocolates!" He yelled, stepping slightly to the right. He seemed to be ignoring her, except for the fact that his eyes dropped to her upturned face, though his face was turned from her. She then stepped to the right also, and took one. But she didn't eat it.
"Chocolates!" He yelled once more, this time turning his back to the girl. But she simply stepped in front of him again and took another chocolate--gazing into his face the whole time. She ate this chocolate. She ate the chocolate, and just stared at the man in the chef's hat. And he stared back at her through half-closed eyes.

I was terribly amused watching this silent exchange, and I wondered how long the Chocolate Holder was going to put up with her behavior. I also wondered how long she had been there in the first place.

Moments passed. She continued to stand there, patiently looking up at him, and every time he called out "chocolate", she obediently took one. Sometimes she ate it, sometimes she put it in her pocket, and sometimes she turned and handed it to some passing stranger. All of this the French chef took with little more than a veiled glance her way. Until she placed a chocolate back on the tray.

"What are you doing?! They do not go back once they go off!" He did not seem to know how to deal with this young lady.
She just continued to look up at him with her big, soulful brown eyes, not saying a word. It seems this had a calming effect on the man, for he just stared down at her.
"Well, now," he said. "What iz it?"
"Your hat." It was stated clearly and matter-of-factly.
"My HAT?"
"Yes. You see, I've lost mine, and after studying yours for a while, I have decided that you are indeed wearing my hat." She held her hand out. "May I have it, please?"
The man reached up and took the hat from his head. He studied it himself, and then looked from one Chocolate Holder's hat to another, and then down at his own. Indeed, there was a slight difference. With a shrug of his shoulders, and a confused look in his eyes, he handed the hat over.
"Merci!" She called out, smiling brightly. And away she walked, the chef's hat sitting high on her head.

I had to follow her. I could hardly contain my laughter and my curiosity. I was just about to quicken to my steps to catch up with her, with the intention of asking about her hat, when she suddenly stopped in front of another Chocolate Holder. I stopped also, eager to see what she would do now.

"Chocolates!" He yelled out. And she took one.
"Chocolates!" He yelled out. And again she took one.
"Chocolates! Chocolates! Chocolates!" She took three, then, turning, saw me standing there, and gave me two. But she turned right back to the man and didn't say a word. Just stood there looking up at him.

I studied the man. Surely she didn't want his hat. She'd already found one. What, then, could she want? I didn't know. Had no idea. I began to weary of standing in the cold watching people eat chocolates, so I walked across the street to a cafe, where I could sit, get a drink, be warm, and watch the girl. For many moments she stood there, eating chocolates, saving chocolates, and passing out chocolates. After a while, the patient Frenchman had pretty much the same reaction the other one had. I couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but I dearly wished that I had stayed to listen when I saw the Chocolate Holder take off a pair of sunglasses and hand them to the girl. Again, she smiled brightly and turned to walk away. But, just as she was about to disappear out of my sight, she turned and looked straight toward me. Still smiling, she put her sunglasses on, straightened her hat, and raised her hand and waved at me. Then she was gone.

I ran into her a couple of nights later, and absolutely nothing was explained, but we did go on to have quite another adventure. But that's another story.

There now, Christa. Do you remember differently? I hope not, for if you do, I shall have to get my friend Billy and we shall have to accuse you of having been drunk. For, after all, you were wearing a hat.

;)