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19.06.02: Le Thaillandiers, rue des Thaillandiers This is the place Serge had declared to be the last authentic, un-branchified café left in the neighbourhood. Allowing for a little Judeo-French exaggeration, you still might assume as much from the exterior. Inside, it was a simple wood-and-tile affair that recalled the most humble and homey of eateries. I sat almost entirely alone for close to an hour (even the proprieters spent most of their time in the room at the back), reading the paper at the bar and trying (not?) to think about how I was going get by in America without moments like this.
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