Vagabond Artist

Tonight I spent the evening with one of the nicest persons I have ever met, a very interesting writer that has been living in Paris for 8 years. She suggested that we meet at Wili's wine bar on 13 rue des petits champs.

I came home from the atelier on the metro leaving my bike at the atelier in Ivry and took the 91 bus from les Goblins up blvd St. Michel two stops, what a waist of a metro ticket but it was raining.

I did what I needed to do at the apt and then left to go back to Les Goblins and took the metro down to Palais Royal exited and walked across some garden where those funny black and white colums are that are supposed to be interesting then got to rue des champs and found my friend at Willi's. It was the first time that I saw clientele in a restaurant that was semi dressed up since I have been here. Who invented the urban myth that the French know how to dress. It is the Italians that dress to kill, definitely not the Parisians that look to me like they threw their jeans on over their pygamas and forgot to shave. Perhaps it is their bedroom habits. They say that the Italian stallion is a myth gone by, I believe it.

We had a mediocre glass of wine at Willi's a nice place with a long bar and super duper posters; they have a fabulous group of graphic artists that give them the image they have gained. All of the clients that came in saluted the wait staff in French then dropped into English at their tables. We were looking for something a little more raunchy so walked down around the corner of rue de Richelieu to Juveniles a Cave Bistrot at number 47 where we shared an aubergine tapenade and a plate of charcuterie. I chose a spanish wine that was absolutely fantastic and we chatted and chatted. The Juveniles had a much more relaxed atmosphere, more eclectic crowd that still satluted the bilingual wait staff in French and then fell into English but not all of the tables like at Willi's, some spoke only French. It was even affordable. I will keep in mind les Juveniles but we promised to go tango on the seine before my new friend leaves Paris in a few weeks to go back to the US after an 8 year sojourne.

PAris is like Florence, people come and go.