Bored in Paris. Nothing to do but whatever I want. Only coffee and whiskey to calm my fears. The girl sleeps face down on the bed, boots on. Earlier today I washed my few travelling clothes. It’s nice to have clean clothes. Later I spilled dark beer on my white shirt. Tonight perhaps we’ll go find live music. The endless search to quench our appetites. Not too far though. Not to Belgium.
We left the room and walked down the stairs and part way through the lobby when Mel realized that she forgot something in the room. I handed her the key as she ran back up, then bought a cup of coffee from the machine in the lobby. I walked outside and sat on a small curb in the narrow streets. I sat there for a while watching the locals and tourists pass by as they went about their day, all the while enjoying my hot, and rather small, black coffee (cafe solo). I took the last sip of coffee from the paper cup, wondering what might be taking Mel so long. Just then an old Spaniard women approached with her hand extended towards me holding something. Gold colored coins, Spanish money. The kind woman was giving me money, thinking I was a beggar, a man on the streets. With my dirty traveling clothes and empty cup in hand I understand her reasoning. So, being a bit off guard and not wanting to offend her, I graciously took the sweet woman’s offering of cents. Feeling embarrassed and a little confused I quickly stood and walked away, hoping nobody really saw what had just happened.
I now no longer sit on curbs with an empty cup in hand.
BTW. The money has since been given to other homeless folk or street musicians.