Sunday, October 11, 2009

Two and a half ways



I have so far discovered two and half ways to get free coffee in Paris.
(If it's from a friend it's not really free, because you take turn about and next time you're out having coffee and a tete-a-tete together, it will be your turn to pay for BOTH coffees.)

Halfly: the shop assistant forgets to charge you for it. But because you should (and my kind friend did) inform them of their error, you end up paying for it anyway. And even if you do not, you probably get a naughty karma mark chalked up to your name somewhere. That's why this is only half a way to get free coffee.

Firstly: A complimentary Nespresso from one (or both) of the big department stores.

Nespresso are currently pushing their machines in a big way, and given that all coffee in Paris comes out of a machine not unlike an Nespresso machine, why not? (i.e At the push of a button. Coffee grinders are not part of the Paris soundtrack.) It really doesn't taste much...strike that....any different. And it comes with a chocolate square. What more could a girl want as she browses deluxe French homewares?


Secondly: Have one bought for you by a stranger.

I had just finished browsing an open-air photography exhibition on the left bank that was hosted by the Quai Branly Museum and was hanging out for an coffee and some people watching. Given my tourist-heavy location, however, I decided to check the prices on the outdoor menu. While scanning it for 'espresso' two guys sitting nearby admired my outfit. (Vocally. With full sentences. They didn't just leer.) One of them had a stroller with a sleeping child, and the other looked like a Ralph Lauren cut-out, so I figured how bad could they be? We continued chatting, they invited me to join them. Which, given my time-killing status, seemed like a logical enough thing to do.

Monsieur Dad had an accent that made me doubt my French speaking abilities, I had so much difficultly understanding his questions. (At the time, I felt silly having to always ask him to repeat himself. In retrospect, however, it's highly possible he also came away feeling silly, seeing as the blonde Australian girl seemed to only be capable of speaking to his friend.) Le other one, however, was cute, with square white teeth, sandy blonde hair AND easy to understand. When the waiter came over with the bill, I had a laugh that it was Monsieur Dad who footed the afternoon's entertainment for his friend. And with that, my phone buzzed, I bid my adieus to Monsieur Ralph Lauren and Monsieur Dad and dashed off into my waiting chariot, Le Metro.

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