Cockney Bistro
While in Paris I decided that I was going to get up early and get coffee at a cafe, eat croissants, and people watch every morning. The café I chose was one close to our hotel called Cockney Bistro. I suppose it was to be a representation of an English pub, it was not. It was however a great place to have a Parisian breakfast and wake up for a day of shopping or sight seeing.
Everyday I had the same thing: two espressos with a lot of sugar, one plain croissant, and one chocolate croissant. The food and coffee were great but what made this experience for me were the atmosphere and the events at the café.
One morning a rowdy group of drunk (drunk at 7:30 am!) Latin Americans tried to sit under the awning on the patio to escape the rain upon an altercation with the owner they were chased into the streets smashing their glass fifths in the street and shouting French obscenities. The very next morning at group of three drunk French college girls came stumbling into the café after being cat-called on the street for about a block, fell into a booth and continued drinking and carrying on. My favorite sight I saw from my solitary table at the bistro was a couple on Sunday morning walking up the Metro station steps, he in a full tuxedo, tie hanging open around his neck, and she in a cocktail dress, still in heels, makeup smudged and hair askew. I know they had been out all night living it up in Paris, fabulous!
