Midnight at the Oasis

This is a photograph of a detail of a surrealist painting by Max Ernst currently
on view in THE BIG BANG exhibition at the Pompidou.

Spring must be in the air - although one has to look very hard to find it. A few crocus are bravely poking their heads out of the cold, cold ground... soon to be covered by snow or sleet. Still, it is something. Last week I met a friend of a new friend. She is a photographer who bravely drags a $5000. (Australian dollars) Hasselblad all over the world. She is an attractive, shapely woman close to 40 who has the striking look of a beautiful Goth girl...luminous white skin, miraculous blue eyes and straight dark hair. She has been in a relationship for 5 years. The moment she arrived in Paris interesting men have been barking up her tree trying to get her attention. I've heard most of these stories but last night I witnessed one in the making.

We spent the afternoon walking through Pere LaChaise taking photographs. It was a beautiful, grey aftenoon, perfect for this endeavor. I realize now the first thing that was different was the man at the corner entrance. I have seen this man sell maps at this entrance for years. I never knew he spoke English until yesterday. Perhaps it was because we were a group of women he was inspired to be funny and flirtacious? He was great. Now I know. Its my favorite entrance there since it is closed to the metro.

As the afternoon grew late we talked about Anne Rice, New Orleans' great cemetaries, Hollywood Cemetary, the Montparnasse cemetary, Oscar Wilde's tomb (now covered in lipstick kisses which it wasn't a year ago...) and on and on. We walked back to our atelier, damp, cold and ready for dinner. Our mutual friend is a vegetarian so we walked to a place I've seen on the Isle de la Cite several times. It always looked kind of touristy to me... but I am not a vegetarian anymore and I know it is difficult to find vegetarian fare in a city that loves its protein as much as Paris.

The waiter immediatly fell head over heels for our friend. He couldn't really speak English but he managed to tell us he was Tunisian, had been in Paris for five years and was crazy about our friend. He kissed her hand. He brought us free drinks, he ignored the other customers, he played schmalzy French music like Serge Gainsborough and the other one...they mannered Pepi Le Peugh's accent after his voice... our friend actually commented that this evening would always be the Pepi Le Peugh evening for her (while the waiter was sitting by her side with his arm around her...) That was funny... and so true.

He asked her to come downstairs to the bar and have a drink with him. By this time everyone else in the restaurant was gone. She was hesitant. We said were ready to go and as soon as we powdered our noses and got out coats we would be right behind her. At the top of the spiral staircase we were saying our good byes and missed all the excitement. He made a very romantic gesture, sort of a swoon, I suppose, and exploded all over himself. We missed this of course since it was one of those "you had to be there" experiences. The closest thing I can relate it to would be an adolescent boy who can't control his urges. We were only a few feet away... we paid our bill, thanked him for the kir royals and left.

Well, of course the food wasn't great. It was slightly better than cafeteria food. After all that I hoped we would at least throw our bill in the waste bin but no, no, we paid. Our friend recounted what has happened as we walked to Hotel Esmerelda and looked in the window of Shakespeare and Co.

We think she must be emitting more pheremones than usual since she is about to turn 40. She is attractive and striking but no more so than many, many women in Paris.
I must say, Parisian women are much more interesting to me than Parisian men. Spanish men are much more interesting to me than Spanish women. Maybe its the balance of yin and yang. Maybe its the culture that allows them to be who they are. In the meantime, our friend is back in London where I think she'd be better off in her studio working rather than dealing with drunken lads in the streets. As a matter of fact, so would I.