Yeah, so, last year mighty, mighty good man David and I rang in the New Year in Paris. We were on our honeymoon.
I am incapable of talking about our trip to Paris and Belgium without gushing. We had the most amazing time. And we got a nifty souvenir from the trip. The Spawn is pretty cute.
On New Year’s Eve, we spent the day walking all over Paris. We went to the cafe where they filmed “Amelie.” We went to the Erotic Museum (it was kinda stupid and gross – surprise). We walked to the Sacré-Coeur. Then we headed to the neighborhood where we were having NYE dinner. We had dinner reservations at Bistrot Paul Bert at 8. We figured we had plenty of time to eat dinner and then head to the Eiffel Tower to ring in the New Year. It turns out that at a nice restaurant in Paris you don’t do dinner AND something else. You just do dinner.
We arrived in the neighborhood early, before 7. The restaurant wasn’t open yet. In fact, the staff was eating dinner when we walked by. So, we walked to the end of the block to a neighborhood bar for a drink. I have such warm feelings for this bar. I wish I could remember the name of it. It was a family-owned neighborhood bar. It wasn’t some cool place you read about. They were getting ready for the NYE crowd, putting out horns and party hats. The staff was all dressed up. One of the younger male employees arrived for work in a brand-new crisp black button-up shirt and everyone started teasing him. I was a little sad to leave when it came time for dinner.
Of course, I wasn’t sad for long. We had the most amazing dinner. Lobster tempura with a lobster bisque shot, a scallop with a truffle, a delicious filet of beef and a dessert so soaked with rum that I got even more drunk eating it.
We met this older French couple at the restaurant. By the end of the evening they were referring to themselves as our “French parents.” We loved chatting with them. We were having such a great time at the restaurant that we decided to ring in the New Year with our French parents instead of trying to fight with crowds at the Eiffel Tower. (The next day, we met a group of Italians who came to town for NYE. They went to the Eiffel Tower and said they couldn’t see jack. We made the right call.)
At midnight, everyone in the restaurant walked around and clinked glasses. David and I kissed under the mistletoe, which is a tradition in France. I bet you didn’t know that. You see! You can learn something reading this blog.
I think we left the restaurant at 1 a.m. We walked back to our hotel. It was a goodly walk, but everyone was out in the streets, so it was an entertaining walk as well. Everyone was wishing each other a Happy New Year. Bonne année! And even though David had told me a million times how to pronounce it, drunk-ass Sonia was walking the streets of Paris saying, “bon ami!” or “good friend.”
French person: “Bonne année!” (Happy New Year!”)
Me: “Bon ami!” (Good friend)
French person gives me a weird look.
You’re welcome, America!
So anyway, instead of trying to bully someone into babysitting the Spawn for us, David and I are celebrating this New Year’s Eve at home. David is going to cook a French feast, including mussels in white wine sauce and creme brulee, and we’re going to finally open a bottle of wine that we brought home from that trip. Also, we’ve recorded the entire “Thin Man” series on TCM, so we’re all set.
So, my dear bons amis: Bonne année!