Not Quite
April in Paris

16 Out in the Mountains April 2000

 

  

PAR ERNIE MCLEOD AVEC KEVIN Moss

Romance vs. Reality

Imagining ourselves in Paris, I had romantic visions of strolls along the
Seine, languorous hours at sidewalk cafés, picnics on park benches amid man-
icured gardens, a river cruise on one of the famous bateaux mouches. All very
April in Paris. Except Kevin kept reminding me that we were visiting in
January, on the heels of a hurricane. I _ '

On December 26, we were overpacked and ready to go when, just to be
sure, we called the airline to confirm. Little did we know that while we were
gorging and unwrapping, France had been blasted with a storm bigger than \
Celine Dion’s vocal range. The airline offered todrop us in England or,
Belgium,‘ but, since the guidebooks we had accumulated made no mention of
these countries, we declined the offer.

Upon arrival—a day late——in the Jetson-like airport, we learned'French
baggage handlers weren’t handling. With hundreds of other jet-lagged souls

« V we watched the
same two valises
carousel mockingly
past for an hour.
Despite the delay, it
was still pitch dark
as we vanpooled
into the city.
Perhaps dawn skips
over France in
January?

Once we found
Les Degrés de

    

Notre-Dame Hotel (our taxidriver was, apparently, new to Paris), it turned out
to be perfect. Situated across the river from the cathedral, it’s relatively inex-
pensive (by Parisian standards), simply charming, and convenient to the gay
quarter..Our room, #43, was spacious and had nice beamed ceilings. Poke

your head out the bathroom window and——voila!—the spires of Notre-Dame

(far left) rising into the drizzly heavens. Only drawback: the steep, winding
staircase down which I was continually tempted to fall.

A preliminary outing was enough to burst my romantic bubbles. The Seine
resembled a zillion gallons of café au lait run amuck. “See those streetlamps?”
Kevin said. “Usually they’re above water.” No river strolls. No bateaux
mouches either—the undersides of the bridges had not risen in proportion to
the water. Parks and outdoor cafés proved equally problematic to anyone dis-
inclined to sit in puddles.

But even when the gods are against you, one cannot grow désolé in gay
Parée.

Le Marais

This is the premier destination for any gay tourist. Unless you suffer panic
attacks in tiny spaces crammed with queer books and bookish queers (I won’t
get into the sculpture posing as a staircase), make your first stop Les Mots a
la Bouche. Then browse some of the exquisitely appointed shops. Paris is one
big anti-Wal-Mart. There are shops selling only paper, or spicy things in bar-
rels, or marvelously impractical objets for the home, or undergarments unsuit-
able for 99 percent of the population. Cruising beautiful fellow-browsers with-
out crashing into highly breakable displays is a trick; flamboyant gestures,
particularly with umbrellas in hand, are ill-advised.

After browsing, pop into one of the many mainly-gay cafés. (In Paris,
there’s no excuse for not being hyper-caffeinated 24/7.) If it’s lunchtime, head
for the string of falafel joints on rue des Rosiers. Beware of tourists walking
blindly with overstuffed pitas. At Chez Hanna you can sit inside and avoid the
sensation of tahini dripping down your arms.

For dinner, there are a number of gay restaurants to choose from. We liked
Au Tibourg, though the gelatinous terrines made Ernie nervous. Le Divin is a
decent choice if you like to bump elbows and cutlery with other queer diners.
There was added drama the evening we visited: the cook got into a tiff with
the waiter and pots began flying around the kitchen. Less gay,
but good for vegetarians, is the laid-back (don’t go if you’re in a rush) Piccolo
Teatro.

After dinner, head to one of the bars. Gay bars come and go faster than
Madonna movies, so it’s dangerous to recommend. We ushered in 2000 at Le
Central, where blue and white balloons adorned the ceiling and cute patrons
danced on the bar, waving in plastered straight people. Lesbians, as usual and
alas, have fewer choices, but some Marais hangouts are at least mixed. We
took along the handy pocket-sized “Paris Scene: Gay City Guide.” It has a les-
bian section.

All photos: Ernie Mcleod and Kevin Moss