Abbey Jordan sits at a table on Saint Germain, writing her philosophy... just like Voltaire! Also, a lot like Hemingway because of America. I am sitting at Café de Flore, which truly is a famous cafe that has served great minds- such as mine- since late in the 19th century. The main difference between now and then, is that they are now able to exploit their posthumously famous patrons by inflating the price of a coffee to twice of what you would find at a neighboring restaurant. The place is still crowded, and not just with people like me, but genuine French people... also, as slow as the service is, it’s very friendly.
I went out last night with a friend, a French friend, who actually got told by the waiter that he (the waiter) was not deaf... All my friend did was remind him of the water we requested 15 minutes prior. Advice for tourists: the only thing worst that assuming your waiter speaks English, is assuming he knows sign language... although he must have really thought I was fluent if he didn’t speak it himself- I was “talking” so fast!
That’s how you get the upper hand here: sign language... what a vulnerable way to turn the tables. If I walk into an establishment and can tell the service is terrible, I speak English really loud and slow, like I have never heard my own voice and then use my hands a lot... like a duck... a duck making a sandwich.
All cafe jargon aside, I had to come back to where I was staying, to eat and access the internet. While sitting with my French friend, eating crème fraiche and ham, he turns on the tv... to Chuck Norris. He says to me- in his little accent- “this is my favorite show- Chuck Norris is so awesome- everybody knows it is every Sunday at 2.” If you have never had creme fresh going out your nose- you haven’t seen Walker Texas Ranger dubbed in French while hearing a grown man declare his affections for the show... even if you aren’t eating crème fraiche it will manifest itself just to escape your nose.
Je suis heureux!
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