The day after Christmas I managed to find a way back to the Hexagon, though Shelly hung around a few days longer in the Commonwealth before catching a flight back to San Francisco. It was sad to part ways a few days earlier than originally planned, but for however much we scrambled and sacrificed, the trip was very nice and I’m glad that I had the chance to spend it with such a good friend.
I spent a brief day and a half in Nantes, sleeping, doing laundry and downloading photos from my camera. Then I was back in Paris to meet my parents for a two-week trip in (sunny! warm!) Andalucía.
But before their plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle, I had a day to hang around Paris with my friend Katherine. And there was only one thing on our “to do” list: L’As du Fallafel!
A friend of ours had been walking through the Marais a few weeks prior and had spotted the long line coming out of L’As du Fallafel. Had he not just eaten dinner, he would have gotten in the queue, too. But instead, he headed back for lunch the following day…and praised its chickpea perfection for something like three weeks. Maybe even four.
So when Katherine and I were making plans for the day, naturally, L’As du Fallafel came up. And as we rounded the corner onto la Rue des Rosiers, we knew we had made a good choice for lunch. The crowd was immense, but we pushed our way through and got a ticket.
Then the waiting. An extreme test of patience as the hoards of people ahead of us walked away happily, with their hands cradling their lunches. By the time we made it to the window, my stomach was doing something much more savage than growling. What a relief to see quick hands grab at my slip of paper and stuff a pita with falafel, red cabbage, cucumbers, hummus, eggplant and spicy harissa, in thirty seconds flat. Incredible. Delicious. The best!
The falafel was wonderful! I even convinced my sleepy parents to take a trip to the third to give it a taste. Now we’re all preaching the good word of L’As du Fallafel!
We still had the rest of the day to explore Paris. As it was New Year’s Eve, we spent some time in a café plotting where we’d spend the evening. Still under the impression that there would be fireworks at the Eiffel Tower, we took the overflowing metro to the Trocadéro and found a nice spot. When midnight struck, the lights sparked as they do each night, but hélas, no fireworks. We still enjoyed the night, though maybe not the three hour walk back to our hotel…especially as we had a flight to catch at eight that morning!