Locking in love

More and more I see how this is the city of “love.” Aside from the bridge dedicated to lovers who attach locks to the wire railing and throw the key of the side into the Seines (the river that runs through the city) as a token of their eternal feelings for one another, menus are dedicated to appetites of two. Couples fill restaurants throughout the day sharing stories, discussing Franco politics — and probably American, as well. If they’re not snuggled up next to each other, many of these couples reach across the table with their hearts in hand, clasping the fingertips of their lover as if they can’t get enough.


And since I’m here without mine, for now I’m enjoying my newfound love: cheese fondu! Where has it been all my life and will I ever find anything so great in the states? I stab the fondue fork into the rock hard sourdough bits and swirl it around in the bliss that is cheese fondue until the bread softens. In between bites I listen to the cackling of the flame and sip my red wine. I don’t know what keeps the flame lit and that captures me even more. The potatoes dipped are good as well, but dry and bland compared to the cheese-covered bread. And once again, all is accompanied by a misty water vase that reflects the pink and red lights of the café.

As the fondue begins to brown (a sign that it’s time to stop!) the rain starts to fall onto the awning before making its way down to the cold, stone sidewalk.