Le W.C.

You’ll think it’s just me, but really, French bathrooms are funny. First there’s the whole separation of church and state business thing. Then there are the pay toilettes on the street which I don’t use (dirty and what if you don’t get your euro’s worth.) My favorite toilettes in the middle of the city are on the fifth floor of Samaritain. It follows from the favoring of Henri Bendel’s or the patronage of Bergdorf’s merely for their bathrooms. Samaritain is better though because where else could you get a view of the backside of a famous gothic church each time you go. Also, all over, the signs. Some have a figure of a boy, arm raised, waving his hand in the air to indicate the urgency. The best one is of a girl who seems to have her legs pressed together and one hand over her crotch. Laughed for a long time at that one. And yesterday, standing at the sink, the door opened and in the mirror I saw Rebecca for the first time since new year’s. I guess the bathroom’s the place to meet up in Paris.