The city of light

    The leaves falling brought to my memory our days in Benevento, when the street were full of merchants and the trees had that beautiful orange-yellow tone that characterize this season of the year. I was there and I can´t believe it, it has been a long time, years I must say. The cool wind was pretty nice — taking in count that is autumn, I´m not surprised by this kind of breeze— but what amazed me the most is to see the tower upon my eyes. The shining path of the park looked like it was allowing you to come and have a moment to feel the wind, sit on an old but well-cared bench and just take her hand for a while — and, I´m not going to lie, that´s what I did—.

    Meanwhile, I can see her foot drumming that sweet tango song that we wished to dance so many years ago. The song was playing on the radio, in the coffee shop just beside the park: “por una cabeza, si ella me olvida”, the singer was finally home — not many people know that Carlos Gardel was born in France, even when he lived almost all his life in Argentina—  or at least his voice was. I took her to the middle of the park and started to guide her — I didn´t care about our shoes, and judging for her big smile, she didn´t, either— step by step I was listening to her sing in low voice the song while I was looking at her eyes, her lips stopped singing and said something that I couldn´t understand but the song stopped and our feet with it.  

She was so excited for the place, that she took me and pulled me — I can´t believe the strength that this woman has when she wants to see something— to the coffee shop.

    “Do you want something?” I asked her, and she with a beautiful and big smile pointed to a croissant on the dark wood table. We bought two croissants and two hot teas for the cold because it was already 9 pm, but even though the hour, she was calmed — this is not Venezuela, Paris doesn´t bite like Caracas.

    We walked to the Eiffel tower; I saw her face and noticed that she had a little piece of croissant left on her face. “You are a mess” told her with a smile while I was passing a little napkin around her lips, and she with a cute face passed her finger in my chin showing me a little piece of spinach “you too, don’t judge”. Before we could know, we were in front of tower. Her eyes started to shine of happiness — call me a crazy, but she was the best view over there — and started jumping saying “we are here, we are here, we are here, oh my god I can´t believe it, we are here” — and you didn´t believe it while we were on the airplane?—. I started jumping with her, we were like two kids in a candy store —except that there were no candies and the store was a huge iron-made tower, funny huh?—.

     We went up to the highest floor of the tower, it was 11 pm at that moment and the wind was trying to freeze my fingers. I saw her rubbing her hands, so I took off my jacket and put it in her shoulders; then took her hands and started breathing on them trying to warm them up. She just stayed looking at me and again said something with her lips that I couldn´t understand.

     After a while watching the view that “the city of light” gifted us, we decided to go back to the hotel, it was a long day and the only thought in my mind was sleeping with her and wake up to see the Mona Lisa tomorrow — maybe I should take the chance to buy some presents in the museum to our friends. We walked back to the thirteenth district, place d´italie; walking slowly, enjoying every second — but my eyes were focus in her happy face; I’ve always loved to see her so happy. She grabbed my arm and pressed it —constricted it in fact; I don’t know how I can write with this arm right now— looking at a big wine store just at the corner of the street. “Let me guess, you are not leaving without at least 3 bottles, right?”

     “Four bottles, it’s better when is a pair number” answered me with a big smile ear to ear — she knows that I can’t resist that smile, that’s cheating. Even though she knows she can’t resist the alcohol, she likes to drink a cup of wine once in a while. I drink with her just for make sure that she doesn’t end up in the middle of the street singing about a grumpy unicorn; but the main reason is because I love to see her enjoy every sip.

     We arrived to the hotel both tired but happy. She fell in the bed like a log, with a big smile on her face while I was looking for some sheets; I cover her with the sheet and gave her a kiss in the forehead. “It has been a long day, huh? Good nights, sweet dreams” I turned off the light and lay down beside her. I closed my eyes, but she putted her hand in my face and said “merci”. Those were the words that I couldn´t understand before, but I was so happy that I didn´t talk, just said “thank you” and closed my eyes slowly. 

Finland

It was one of those day at the end December. Winter was getting colder, as it usually does by that time, or that was what she was told. She’s always said she was a tropical weather bird: chilling to the bone was absolutely not her idea of good night. But she was sure it was worth it, it had to be worth it.

          She was at the not-so-happy-but-maybe-perfectly-functioning Finland.  It seemed like cold weather made governments being less corrupt and people willing to suicide more. Funny fact, isn’t it? What else did she know about Finland? Less corruption, more suicides, more cold, more drunk people getting violent… Did Jean Sibelius count? She knew something about Finland, not the country but the symphonic poem, by Sibelius. It was a creepy, and also powerful, song, composed in 1899. He meant with it something about a censoring Russia and the misery of the Finns by the time, or the closest to that. She also knew that the Finland’s National Anthem came from it.

          It wasn’t for sure her soundtrack for tonight. Her glass igloo was way too comfortable and almost-warm-enough for that scary song. Did she mention that she was inside a glass igloo? The night sky view was amazing and the bed was nice and soft. It was cloudless, and freezing cold, outside. She assured herself to learn from the safety instructions that if she touched the glass, she could lose her finger. And she always thought it was cold at home when she had to wear socks. Reality wasn’t so nice right now.

          She heard her roommate (or maybe just mate) snore. It was obvious she wouldn’t go there, to the almost end of the world, for chasing penguins alone. She didn’t care if there weren’t penguins in Finland, she wouldn’t go by herself anyways. So she took him —she’d refer to her mate as him from now on— with her, promising some nice vacations, hot chocolate and penguins.

          Note to self: she’d better find a stuffed penguin before they leave.

Mumbling and complaining, as she was doing before, were her “staying-awake” activities for tonight. The last two nights she had had his companion (his awake companion), but that day he decided to take skiing classes. He ate some snow at first, but finally got to manage it. She had a nice time laughing between the ice dishes and the actual practice, just saying. She smiled, looking at him sleeping. He was so tired. Sighing, she hugged to her knees and she felt a chill running through her back.

She closed her eyes deeply and slowly. Sandman was playing with her, he was waiting for her to lower the guard so he could make her fall asleep. This, her third and last night at the igloo, wasn’t her lucky night, either. But then she heard it like a whispering. It wasn’t Sandman’s voice, but a fairy’s one: a voice, iced by the weather but warm in its tone. She didn’t know where it came from, but she clearly understood what it said: “Open your eyes”.

          He was still asleep. He didn’t even imagine what was going on. She was overwhelmed with emotions for waking him up. She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t do anything but cry. It was so beautiful. Finally, after years dreaming of them, years planning it, years hoping someday she would be there, freezing to the bones, complaining about the cold, watching the artic sky at night, waiting for it like a child awaiting for Santa Claus to fly through the star with his reindeers. She was finally there, under them, a green glow filling her eyes. It was way better than Santa Claus. It was real.

          The northern lights: magical, mystical and thousands of times more breathtaking than she could ever imagine. Her cheeks were damped, her faced crossed with a smile. She was shocked with amazement, staring at their dance. She felt her hand being taken, then kissed.

          “You stopped moving and you didn’t fell asleep, so I thought something must be happening”. He smiled, looking her in the eye and then looking at the sky. “You were right, they are spectacular”.

          She laid back, keeping their hands together. Sighing again, happy, she let herself enjoy what would be, maybe, the best night of her life.