April 11, 1996
Thursday
5:20 p.m.
We left the hotel, looking down our noses at the doormen like a couple of waiters. Grzegorz confirmed:
– Flight’s tomorrow at ten in the morning?
– Yeah, ten-something.
– Can’t see you off, got business to take care of. Car’ll pick you up at seven. Say hi to Zhora. Go enjoy the rest of the day on your own. Won’t get lost?
– No!
Grzegorz smirked:
– What’s your hotel called, and where is it?
While I was trying to recall the lines from the travel agency’s fax, Grzegorz pulled out a business card and pressed it into my hand. «Hôtel du Paradis» in bold type, with the address.
– You can wander around here, or across the river, but don’t stray too far. When you get tired, flag down a taxi and show them the card. They’ll get you back in ten minutes for fifty francs. Get hungry – they’ll feed you cheap. Anywhere expensive, they won’t even let you in.
– Why not?
Grzegorz smiled with his eyes, said flatly with his lips:
– A red jacket’s a bellhop’s uniform…
Turned around and was gone.
Well then. I’m no bellhop, and no bellhop’s me. Took off my jacket, my hand reached for the trash can – a tiny thing, nothing fits in it but cigarette butts… Across the way stood a homeless man about my size.
Tossed him the jacket: «Hand-me-down for a fellow tramp!» Reconstructed from memory the map of Paris I’d left back in the room. Looked like I was standing on the bridge by the Place de la Concorde. The Louvre should be to the left, Notre-Dame behind it – yeah, I could see the towers, and somewhere behind them, the Bastille. To the right, the Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe. The Eiffel Tower in front of it all – there it is!
Crossed to the other bank, turned left. Walked around like a cadet-corps graduate – white shirt, black trousers. Chilly…
Along the way I spotted a café, packed to the rafters. In front of the sign a couple of tourists were posing for a Polaroid held by a third. Had to go in!
Half an hour later I was thinking: why did I even bother? They brought the cup of coffee out like it was a bottle of fifty-year-old Hennessy, all it was missing was a fanfare. Charged me like it was a night at the hotel. And why was the place so packed anyway?
Took a taxi back to the hotel.