We were running late. We were in Paris, waiting for a cab to take us to the airport. The croissants were done, the coffee was not.
"Excuse me," I said to the server. "Do you have any to-go cups? You know, so I can take along my coffee?"
The server looked puzzled. Clearly, he didn't understand, but that had nothing to do with his ability - or inability - to comprehend English. He simply didn't know what I was asking for.
In Paris - and elsewhere in Europe, it appears - the to-go cup seems as foreign as the jumbo Slurpee or the Teen Burger. You may see one, but it's rare.
There, the locals take their cafes au lait in the quaintest of ways: sitting down. On chairs. At tables, in brasseries.
So unusual, we thought.
It occurred to us that no matter where we were - on the subway, at the park, strolling along the Seine - there were precious few people walking and eating at the same time. Well, except when it came to gelato.
"This is different," my husband said.
"This is nice," I added. In our part of the world, of course, folks view meal time a tad differently. We're all about fast food. And drive-thrus. And to-go cups.
We have places to go and people to meet. We have deadlines and appointments and schedules that stretch for weeks ahead. Is there time to relax over three meals a day? Not a chance.
But perhaps when you're off on vacation.
We happily joined the sit-in.
We went to sidewalk cafes. We went to bustling bistros. We went to outof-the-way eateries hidden in cobblestone lanes that wound around in circles.
It was all quite civilized.
The locals sat there and dined - lingering, chatting, lingering some more. No one seemed focused on inhaling a meal and bolting from the establishment to - do what? To log on and add more hours to the work day? To make haste to the closest crowded freeway?
Not a chance.
They munched on their baked camembert and their boeuf bourguignon and their coq au vin, behaving for all the world like people are supposed to behave when it's meal time. They sipped their reds and whites and their cappuccinos and talked - I'm guessing - about their kids and their vacations and their piedsa-terre.
I saw no one ask for a doggie bag. They had the time to eat their meals.
We did the same, and came home decidedly chill.
The trip is done and I'm back at work, but not everything's quite the same.
I no longer carry my coffee. I like to sip it sitting down.
