44 Nights in Paris: Pilo's

Those who know me well are familiar with my passion for cafés that serve really good coffee and croissants. There has to be some trace of French blood in my veins that makes me so particular about croissants especially. They just have to be right.

Lydie took me for a walk around my new neighborhood one late afternoon, with our umbrellas handy because she promised me it rains spontaneously all the time. A short distance from our apartments is the very famous Pere Lachaise Cemetery (accent over that first e in Pere; French for father), where Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde are buried.

A few feet from the cemetery is Pilo’s, an Argentine café and bakery which came highly recommended by my girl. I was their guest as soon as possible.

That was the very next day, just after 9am when they opened. Reading at a window table was a young man with a sleeping dog and a baby in a carriage. A young lady glued to her phone was at the other window table. I ordered my coffee and just-baked croissant with the very kind English-speaking lady at the counter, and settled in ever-so-happily.

Other than the very, very soft soothing music on their sound system, there was blissful silence. This is my favorite type of ambience, since I write while I savor the best coffee and croissants in town. I love what I call quietitude, and I really appreciate this consideration.

Pilo’s actually has lots of things that I love and appreciate. The team is mostly Argentine-French I believe, and very kind. Their signature croissant is called media-luna (half-moon) and the edges are caramelized, and it is surely one of the best pastries I have ever had. It instantly became my favorite in Paris with that first taste. Their bakery counter has a short-list of daily signatures, and their afternoon meals are as extraordinary as their baked goodies.

My visits to Pilo’s were a weekly thing from that point on, sometimes I landed there more frequently. It was always such a joy and pleasure to be their guest.

On still another cold, dreary morning I watched a large family out the window, meeting at the entrance of the cemetery. I wondered who had passed. I wondered who these people were, who brought those gorgeous flowers.

I imagined that with each extended hug and warm embrace, they felt comforted and loved. It made me feel comforted and loved to watch this story unfold, and I offered prayers in silence, to soothe their sorrow and grief. It hadn’t been that long since I was at my own mama’s memorial, and I had a sense of how they may have felt. I felt blessed for having been at that window table that morning.

Being a resident regular at Pilo’s after several weeks, I made friends with Audo, and we exchanged WhatsApp contact info and finally snapped a foto together, with the young man who is their baker. Audo was excited to hear about the books I was writing, and she made me promise to return to Pilo’s when I was next in Paris.

It will definitely be one of my first stops, and I will be thrilled to see my Pilo’s family again.