My friend returned from Paris.

I immediately asked her how she finds the city under a new, socialist president as I am a serious, dedicated person with strong, civic sense.

She looked at me condescending, with some mild glance of pity in her eyes and told me: “I couldn’t care less about their president and political conjuncture. For me Paris means emotion, joy and romance. I had the greatest adventure there and I try to recreate it every few years, to keep the sparkle of love in my …our lives. I was assuming she was talking about hers and her husband life, though it could have been hers and her in-laws, hers and her cleaning lady, hers and her accountant but I don’t want to get carried away.

Judging my puzzled look as an invitation to continue she started:

“Some time ago, myself and Jack (her hubby after all) went to Paris to spend one week relaxing, loving, and getting in touch with our inner self.

The air carrier lost our luggage so we find ourselves in Paris with the clothes we were wearing and not much more. We decided to live on our modest means and not buy anything besides food. We washed our clothes at night, dried them and wore them again the next day. We slept naked and beautiful things happened in the morning at night time. We started to enjoy our bodies and ourselves again. Our love flourished and we enjoy ourselves today the same way we did 20 years ago… love never dies.”

I asked her (trying to conceal the envy in my voice) if things happened according to the same scenario during this recent trip but she didn’t bother to answer. She was still contemplating her image of eternal love and passions which even an earthy person like me could not spoil.

Of course I was green with envy seeing this ethereal creature living in the highest spheres of human sentiments, in touch with her body (and her husband’s it seems).

But then I remember that exactly 7 years ago I had a trip to Paris with my husband and, going through my memories, I had almost the same experience (with minor, insignificant details) so I couldn’t wait to share mine with her:

We did go to Paris to enhance our moods (especially my mood after giving birth a few months ago and not being able to lose 1 ounce of the extra weight). My mother offered graciously to take care of the baby for 1 week so I can “see something nice and relax” but I think her secret intention was to get me out of the house and have some peace.

Once we arrived we DID wear only one set of clothing (both of us) but for a slightly different reason. When I packed I assumed we are going to have a nice spring vacation and actually it was a late winter with nonstop raining. The only winter clothes we had was an oversized sweater which we fought for, as it fit both me and my spouse. Given the fact that we were cold and naked (almost) there were a lot of hot (even steamy) tempers in our hotel room and even some sparkles when my husband thought about the way I packed our clothes (and he thought about it approx every 3 hours).

We also had a lot of physical activity both early morning and late night: the hotel room was minuscule, so, to be able to move from our bed to the bathroom we had to move out the study desk. The hotel manager informed us sternly that if it disappeared from the hallway we are financially responsible so every evening we moved it back. It was heavy.

We still remember that trip (every time I have to pack for a new vacation my husband evokes the most significant moments) and our tempers get hot, very hot on my part as I assume he could have taken some responsibility himself and not let a hormone crazed post delivery creature do it alone.

I told my friend I think we are so much alike and maybe we can go on a joint trip, both couples.

From that moment she stopped answering my phone calls and emails. It’s a pity she could not accept competition…