Paris: Meeting of Twins

Paris is one of the greatest cities on the planet.  You could argue that fact, but you would be wrong.   My first visit to the city was with my brother.  Now, my brothers and I look like we come from different factories.  Whether my mom cheated with the milkman is of no concern to me, as I only care about who raised me, but when the two of us travel together we look like a gay couple instead of brothers.  It is not an issue and yet does provide the impetus for some interesting conversations with people we come across.

At the Cafe.JPG

Every minute is memorable in Paris, as anyone who has been there will tell you.  I could write a small book of the few days I have spent there, telling about the girl in the hostel with a great body that answered her door just pouring out of the tiniest and tightest of towels.  Or meeting a Romanian model and her brother in a park and then going to a club with them that felt like it was 500 degrees with zero percent oxygen. How about sightseeing with a Kiwi, Aussie, and racist Jew? Drinking wine late into the night with Chinese and Argentinian students? Perhaps you would enjoy when I destroyed a food cart on the side of the street because the cook gave me a crepe filled with lime salt and a pepsi when I asked for a nutella crepe with lime miranda.  I mean seriously, how does someone working with tourists all day not speak a word of English?  Come on France, English has been the language of the world for a while now.  Get on board and stop hanging on to your past glory. And before you get upset, I didn’t really smash up his cart, but I really wanted to.

Barbi, Marni, and Me.jpg

No, the story I’ve settled on for today is the meeting of two twins.  It actually takes place while in line for the aforementioned crepe.  My brother and I were discussing with each other how beautiful the French women were, and using the two women in front of us as examples.  After the usual pep talk to get ready for battle we moved in, and lo and behold, they spoke in New York accents. Strange for French girls to have New York accents, but I do not judge.

Barbi, Marni, Billy, and Me.jpg

We started talking about our respective trips and all the usual first meeting subjects.  We walked for a while and then stopped to sit outside of a Parisian cafe.  These twin sisters from New York City were quite interesting and all was well with the world for those few hours.  We drank espresso and talked as the sky got darker and darker.  The subjects did and do not matter.  The words flowed smoothly and all was happy and perfect.  Pictures were taken, phone numbers were exchanged, and the two groups of siblings parted ways into the dark and quiet streets of the iconic city, never to meet again.


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