The next morning after getting a coffee with a baguette from a nearby boulangerie we embarked on our first cultural expansion. The Louvre was magnificent! I heard tons and tons of stories from friends and YouTube bloggers, although they didn’t reflect even a tenth of its’ greatness. Of course, we heavily underestimated the scale and amount of tourists that this magnet attracts. After a few hours of exploration and an onion soup in the city center, we were fully drained and were ready to get back to our stay.
Surprisingly, there was a book laying at a doorstep. After a closer look, it even felt stranger because the book was in Russian, and coincidently had the title “The Joke”. That’s weird! The first idea that popped up was that the Airbnb host’s friends returned the book to them. The thought was a bit controversial because our host barely spoke English and it was very unlikely that they wouldn’t have mentioned it in their profile. Nevertheless, after a few messages, we understood that the book was addressed to us and the host didn’t know anything about it. Oh, how many different theories we had that night, but after all I assured Julia that it was well-known French hospitality and a bit of humor. However, a tiny disturbing bell still rang somewhere deep because a person who left the book watched us and wrongly assumed that we spoke Russian.
It is indeed hard to stay concerned in Paris. A huge wave of mixed vibes carries you away and throws you right into a waterfall of random events and emotions, and after a couple of hours on the streets, you can barely remember what occupied your mind so much. The city has its own zest and it feels literally on every corner, especially if you have previously seen those corners on a screen. It is especially so in Montmartre, the place where the most iconic artists preferred to spend their time. For Julia, this place was even more special because it was where Amelie, one of her favorite movies, was filmed. After reproducing a few scenes from the movie and lunch in Cafe des Deux Moulins we decided to regain some energy before enjoying night walks near
Seine.
Right after getting into the flat, I heard Julia’s worried cry. She said that a postcard was shown in a small crack in a wall above the dining table. The postcard was monochromic and had an alternating image of two fighting men. The picture was like a frame from a silent movie from the beginning of the 20th century. It wasn’t fun anymore. Someone was here while we were out. My girlfriend’s face was white as a wall, I looked into her eyes and felt how terrified she was. We immediately texted the owner of the apartment. What else did we have left? The response was inappropriate laughter and a claim that the postcard was a present from one of their friends and it had been there before. If I were a maniac, this is the exact thing I would say. The apartment didn’t feel cozy anymore and we felt insecure.
The next half an hour felt like a day. So many different questions and thoughts chaotically have rose during that short timespan. What if a stranger gets in while we asleep? What if they were already there last night? It’s unsafe to stay or leave our stuff there. Ought we move out? Shall we preparare to defend ourself? And suddenly, just before scanning the apartment for sharp objects that could be used like a weapon, both of us remembred how we checked in. We enjoyed the place so much that we filmed a room tour to share with our friends. Anxiously we began to watch a video and what a relief! The postcard was there from the very beginning. In a moment we were laughing our lungs out. The joke was played well.
