Paris. Hockey. The Moose.
Why am I not surprised that at 5pm yesterday my husband, after taking me to the art museum and sitting with me while I sketched Notre Dame Cathedral, informed me that the US was playing Canada in the Olympic hockey semi-final in one hour and that there was a bar named The Moose, owned by a Canadian, that was only a short distance from where we were? And if we left right away we would get there just in time for the faceoff. Why? Because, he is as passionate about sports as I am about art. And, he was the one that suggested we come to Paris again so how could I refuse.
The Moose was located on a small side street just off Boulevard Saint Germain. I was the one who first spotted the sign from afar. It had… wait for it… a moose on it. Clever. When we arrived there was a cardboard cutout of a moose covered with gold foil hanging in the window, even more clever.
The door opened and EVERY Canadian in Paris was in The Moose watching the game. My heart sank and my husband looked at me with sparkling eyes… “Let’s go in, you go first and go all the way to the back”, he said. I thought, the back, are you crazy? I’m not even sure I can take two steps into the place let alone go “all the way to the back”. So I said, “ You go first and I’ll follow”. He made it about ten feet inside the door and then we were stuck in the crowd of people wanting to see this game.. At least it was a sports bar and there were plenty of TV’s, in fact there was one right in front of us and there we stood.
All right I thought, this could actually be fun, I kind of like hockey. I understand the game a bit from when we lived in D.C. and would go see the Capitols play. I looked at the screen. Ahh, that’s right, 20 minute periods. It’s fast paced. I like hockey. I can do this.
Did I mention that every Canadian in Paris was at this bar? Big, tall, moose like Canadians that kept bumping into me so they could get all the way to the back of the bar. My husband struck up a conversation with a few young guys who were from Vancouver, British Columbia and lived in Paris. This ended up being one of those spur of the moment(at least for me it was) adventures that you just go with the flow on and end up having a really great time meeting good people who really are not all that different from you. People who like to watch a good game in a good pub and enjoy a pint or two with good friends. And now when hockey is mentioned… I’ll always think of Paris.