Paris!
Wonderful! Back in Paris. Back to where I once belonged or at least stayed for a month while running a souvenir shop near the Eiffel Tower. Memories came back as we approached Charles de Gaulle International. Landing was smooth and life was good.
I only had my wheelie carry-on so debarking and getting through customs was quick. Coming down the escalator I spotted the sign, "Number One" and correctly deduced there was my ride.
"Bonjour Numéro Un," the chauffeur said, "Bienvenue à Paris," meaning, "Good afternoon, Number One. Welcome to Paris."
"Merci," I said, "Thank you."
The chauffeur took my carry-on and I climbed into the back seat of a Peugeot limousine. I figured I didn't have to tell him where to go since I didn't have the slightest idea of where to go, but not to where I had stayed before.
Nice. The driver pulled into the valet entrance of an obviously very expensive hotel. I didn't even have to check in. The hotel maître de escorted me to my room, gave me the card key, and, after declining my proffered tip, bid me a pleasant, "Have a nice stay in Paris, Monsieur."
Having a nice stay was exactly what I had in mind. Whipping out my iPhone I texted away: Ingrid, Liebling, I am on assignment in Paris. Love to see you again, XOXO, and pressed send. Then I wired flowers to her apartment.
Where are you staying? Ingrid texted.
The Hotel Les Bains in the Marais, I typed back.
I'm on my way, Liebling.
The Hotel Les Bains was expensive, very expensive. I was not complaining but I couldn't help but wonder why Dr. N was content to have his Numéro Un spokesman live in a dump in Little Saigon and then check into a place like this on assignment. Dr. Nostradamus was a man who moved with ease and indifference in whatever social strata he chose. He could appear and be regarded as a person of great wealth, or as a common laborer, as he wanted. My apprenticeship was clearly more than just learning how to remember and how to write.
I woke the next morning to a text alert: Meet me at Paris-Sorbonne University. Tuesday evening, 6:30 p.m. Go to reception and you will be directed to the classroom. N.
Can I bring a friend? I replied.
Yes. Ingrid is welcome. N.
The plot thickens.
Today was Sunday. Ingrid texted she would take the train from Vienna to Paris, a tiring 12 hour trip, please meet her at the Gare du Nord Monday.
I spent the rest of the day walking around the Marais, a trendy Paris neighborhood. By now it was almost automatic for me to internally narrate my walks. I returned to my room and walked through the Marais in my mind.
Monday was a beautiful reunion with Ingrid. We kissed and made up and wandered around Paris and the Marais, which I now knew as well as a native. In some respects better.
I told Ingrid everything I knew about Dr. Nostradamus. It was funny but I knew almost nothing. I had no idea where he lived or stayed. I had no idea if he had an office or business location or where. I actually learned more from Wikipedia about the historical Michel de Nostradamus than I did from the real one in person. Of course, dry historical facts and speculations were one thing; face to face meetings and conversations quite another. But seriously, I was a grown man, I did not think Dr. N was the historical Nostradamus. That would have made him more than 500 years old. Childhood stories.
Ingrid and I spent a romantic night at the Hotel Les Bains. It was like our break up spat never happened.
Late Tuesday we made our way to the Sorbonne. Arriving about 6:00 p.m. we were directed to a building and room wherein Dr. Michel de Nostredame would be conducting a series of seminars on historical pattern recognition and projections. Interesting? No.
The classroom was empty when Ingrid and I took seats at the front. At 6:30 p.m. precisely, Dr. Nostradamus entered through the door to the right of the lectern and came over.
We both stood up. "Dr. Nostradamus," I said extending my hand. "This is my friend, Ingrid....."
"Yes, Madamoiselle Ingrid, "the good doctor said, "Vienna. I apologize for not taking the time to be introduced....I see you've changed your hair."
I looked over at Ingrid. I didn't notice anything different about her hair.
Ingrid laughed, "Yes Doctor, I've added a few highlights. I'm flattered you noticed."
I then stood by marveling as Dr. Nostradamus practically seduced my girlfriend right before my eyes with nothing more than a few comments. He remembered that she had tiny gold heart earrings in Vienna and was wearing L'Air du Temps, but not today. I was not surprised at the clarity of his recollection, but I did wonder why he was telling her all that. He never did anything without purpose. I would have been worried, but he was old enough to be her grandfather, or great grandfather. Or great, great, great,,,,,,,,
Then, without further ado, Dr. Nostradamus was the professor. He handed me a brochure. "This is a syllabus of the course I teach this week. I want you to attend starting tonight, and of course, Ingrid is welcome. As is our custom, for you-- and for Ingrid -- there will be no note taking, no recordings. Leave the brochure after you've reviewed it."
Students started filing into the class room and Dr. Nostradamus stepped back to behind the lectern, watching each in turn as they entered.
Dixi
No comments:
Post a Comment