Many of us have this image of small cafes lining cobblestone streets where the people speak only French, smoke foreign cigarettes and the wave their hands as they speak loudly leaning over small tables in order to hear what the other is saying. Everyone is too engrossed in their own conversation to notice what is going on around them. Words ending in "zuh" and "kuh" create a cacaphony of sounds that echoes all around the smoky, crowded room. Most are slightly buzzed and what once was a room full of reserved and somewhat uptight French men and women has now transformed into a lighthearted escape of the traditional, accepted well-behaved cliche French people.
I have discovered such a place, but not on my own, of course. Olivia and her friend Fran, took me and my new American friend to this place (i will get to that later) last night in what appears to be a very artsy part of town not far from Moulan Rouge.
having a hard time tiyping on this keyboard - I have so much to say on this topic, but i think it will have to wait until i get home.
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