Note: To understand the story from the beginning click here.
Saturday morning started with breakfast in our perfectly Parisian apartment. Well would you guess what we had? Croissants, bread, pastries and – oui, oui – coffee. Shocker. We were simply adhering to the staple diet required for such a trip. Sure, this diet is not entirely good for you but I figured I could shift all of the extra pounds piling on when I returned home. Until I realised Christmas was coming. Ok – after Christmas, then.
After indulging in the breakfast delights, we decided to head for the Sacre Coeur. Hopping on the metro would cut too much out, so we set off and explored by foot. Walking turned into strolling, which then turned into grinding halts, “WAIT. Stewart has gone to get gloves” and, “Who wants a crepe? Should we get a crêpe yet? I fancy a crêpe”.
We finally made it to a lovely road at Montmartre and took a leisurely pit stop at a café. We’d had a coffee or two so the next obvious option was a Kir Royale. Oh, so obvious. Sitting at the tables outside, we nattered and soaked up the Saturday afternoon buzz of the area. This place was people watching heaven. I almost felt French. The only problem being that I can barely speak the language; Je suis désolé.
As we got up to leave, I knew it was time; it was time to leave my first postcard. Don’t be confused by the fact that my last post was my first response. I’m mixing this all up – stay with me. The nerves started to kick in. Leaving messages for strangers to find seemed such a good idea in my head. I couldn’t back out now, so I left the first postcard on a table outside and walked away, wondering if I would hear anything.
Email – January 5th 2013:
What a legend – Alexandre the Great.
It felt very special that the first postcard had been found. But what makes it even more special is that we had chosen that café for a reason. I don’t expect you to recognise that address of course, but it is now one that I am unlikely to forget.
This was no ordinary café.
This was the café where Amelie worked. When I say worked, I mean of course that this was the set for the film. A film that has a firm place in my top five of all time (if you haven’t seen this quirky, romantic story then I suggest you do).
Just a little side note, here. Did you know that “Cafe Des 2 Moulins” is actually French for “Two Windmills”? Yeh, not so bad at French now am I. (Or is it that I just know how to google.)
After we left – and I fled – the café, we continued on to the Sacre Coeur where one of my favourite (non-postcard related) moments happened which induced many tears of laughter. That is a tale for another time.
Don’t think I’m done yet. Oh, I’m not done yet. You still have to come back. There is much more to tell….
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