Tuesday, June 17, 2025

A Secret Staircase, a Stray Cat, and a Paris Night to Remember


 

Hungry and Hunting

We’d been walking for hours—half sightseeing, half scavenging for anything remotely edible—and Paris, much like myself, is all charm and grace—until hunger strikes and the claws come out. It wasn’t just dinner we were after; we were searching for a moment to exhale—for a place that felt like it belonged to us, even if just for an hour. Just as we were about to settle for less, we spotted a staircase curling down into the street below like a secret. We followed it—and Marcello found us.

A Quiet Refuge Beneath the City

Teetering on the edge of a full-blown hangry meltdown—the kind only real friendships survive—we slipped into the soft glow beneath the street. Marcello was tucked away under the noise of Paris like a whispered secret: warm light, a hush of green, and that effortless magic that makes you forgive every Paris cliché.

More Than Just a Meal

The food? Nothing to write home about (though here I am, quite literally writing home about it). But the scene—the vibe, if you will—felt borrowed from a novel: a koi pond behind us, a living wall of green beside us, string lights overhead, and wine flowing (mostly into my friend’s glass). We were mid-sip, mid-laugh, and mid-appetizer when a pair of curious green eyes and soft brown fur trotted our way. Without hesitation, our tiny guest pulled up a spot beside me—and I’ve never been happier to welcome an uninvited dinner guest. I never caught his name—or her name, for that matter; he didn’t exactly offer up his pronouns—but in my mind, he belonged to the restaurant, so Marcello felt right. Whether he approved or not was anyone’s guess, but one thing was obvious: he ruled that courtyard. And just like that, dinner for two became dinner for three, turning an ordinary meal into one of those tiny, perfect travel moments you carry long after the plate is cleared.

What Marcello Taught Me

What started as a desperate search for food became a quiet memory I’ll cherish—not because of what was on the plate, but because of who joined it. No begging, no meowing—Marcello simply settled beside me as if he’d reserved the seat all along. After a few pets and soft purrs, he moved on—to his next courtyard adventure. If Marcello (and Marcello - the restaurant) taught me anything, it’s that some meals may not leave a mark on your taste buds, but they leave one somewhere better—quietly tucked into memory, where the best travel moments live.

Visual Recap


Tucked away under Paris: a courtyard of calm and green.

Staged sip, borrowed wine, and a memory to last a lifetime.

An appetizer plate brought to you by blind optimism.


Twists of pasta, clams in white wine, and pesto that packed a punch—then kept punching… and punching. (Seriously, the most pesto-y pesto I’ve ever met.)

Paris gave us wine, pasta, and a cat who upstaged it all. 
Marcello—the real star of the show.



























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A Secret Staircase, a Stray Cat, and a Paris Night to Remember

  Hungry and Hunting We’d been walking for hours—half sightseeing, half scavenging for anything remotely edible—and Paris, much like myself...