MOZAIK

12

Paris was breathtakingly beautiful. I had already visited the city once or twice as part of a shooting, but had never really had the opportunity to wander along all the pretty little streets, stroll along the shop windows on the Champs Élysées or to just enjoy the midday sun in the botanical garden.

I was all the more grateful for this day off, which we used to explore the city as tourists to the fullest.

Since we had a brief interview at a TV station right after breakfast, the guys from Joker Out had already gone without us. But I didn't mind at all because, on one hand, I was glad to spend some time with my own band offstage, and, on the other hand, I still held a slight grudge against Bojan, even though it was probably completely unjustified, I knew that myself. Sometimes all I needed was a fresh breeze to organize my thoughts.

We hopped onto one of those open-top sightseeing buses to take a city tour. Vic was wearing a huge hat and black sunglasses that almost covered half her face. She said she wanted to stay undercover, but with that hat, she attracted more attention than a sore thumb.

Suddenly, we were surrounded by a crowd of people wanting photos or even a hug. That was the flip side of the coin. It's not that I didn't like people, quite the opposite. But all these unfamiliar faces, though they stared at me admirably, always seemed to want something, which made me feel a bit overwhelmed.

As a consequence, we decided to get off at the next stop and explore the area by foot. In the Latin Quarter, we finally managed to get a table at a street cafe. The cobblestone pathway was framed by  centuries-old buildings adorned with colorful, wrought-iron balconies overflowing with vibrant flowers. Innummerable galleries and bookshops dot the street, their windows displaying eclectic collections of vintage books, antique posters, and artistic treasures.

Each of us ordered a coffee, a small cheese platter and some baguettes, to ger a taste of the French cuisine. Since I hadn't eaten all day, I was quite hungry and immediatly filled my mouth with the food. It was simply delicious. The cheese was creamy, a bit salty and coated my palate with just the right amount of nuttiness.

"Oh my God, this tastes almost as good as Provolone.", I sighed after I finished the piece. "Yeah, maybe almost, but definitely not as good as Provolone.", Damiano mumbled with a mouthful of cheese.

It was only when the sun began to slowly disappear behind the rooftops that we made our way back to the hotel. We walked along the banks of the Seine, where the last rays of the evening sun transformed the sky into a colorful sea of soft oranges. 

"Now I understand why Paris is called the City of Love.", Damiano whispered reverently. "But, Dami, the sky looks like this in every city.", Vic laughed. "Honestly, I find Rome more romantic. There are just too many tourists here. It's too crowded to even have a touch of romance or intimate moments.", I added. "Well, Rome also has a loooot of tourists.", Vic countered with a playful wink. "Okay, then I'll say Bari.", I replied.

"OMG, how can you not name Venice or Verona in the first place? You're like completely ignoring those winding canals, gondola rides and Romeo and Juliet?", Vic protested.

We all laughed and were grateful for this chance to be ourselves without the stage lights and roaring crowds.

We arrived at the hotel, my feet aching from a full day of walking around, but when I tried to lie down in Vic's and my bed to rest, she protested loudly: "Hey, did you forget what we agreed upon earlier?"

"Let me just rest for a moment," I mumbled. She began to drag me unceremoniously out of the bed. After she had finally succeeded in pulling me to the edge, almost causing me to fall out, I gave in and sat up: "Come on, Vic, you could have granted me those 10 minutes."