The so-called tavern is not a formal tavern or bar, but a tavern on the way back from the training ground to the residence.
Gawain could not determine the opening time of the tavern, but he could pass by it every day when he returned to his residence after training. The cream-colored lights always made the night a little gentle, and the gusts of evil wind in the late autumn night did not seem so scary.
There are two types of chairs placed at the entrance of the tavern.
It's a small round table like a coffee house. People sit face to face, with their knees touching their knees. They can feel each other's breathing by resting their elbows on the table. Parisians who usually keep their distance break the boundaries between strangers only at this time.
One is a small round table with high stools, but almost no one sits on the chair. Instead, they stand beside the round table with a glass of red wine or beer, casually standing at the edge, chatting with friends in twos and threes.
Every time I pass by, I can always see the bustling crowd at the door. More than 20 or 30 people gather together. Friends stand beside the high table and talk loudly. Couples crowd around the small round table and whisper. There are even some people. Stand directly on the street or sit on the doorstep.
On the contrary, the interior does not look so crowded.
A glass of wine and a cigarette are enough.
At first, Gawain thought it was a bar or a club. Later, after chatting with Sampras, he realized that this is the most common tavern in Europe. Not only France, but also other countries have such tavern culture. Formal, but the best place for friends to gather.
"Compared to American bars, well, it's more literary and retro. Just listen to the topics they chat about."
"In a bar, they either discuss how many prey they caught during the weekend hunting, or what troubles they encountered in love and marriage; but in a tavern, they will talk about literature, movies, painting, and philosophy."
"Of course, it's not absolute. I'm just emphasizing the difference in atmosphere."
This is the answer given by Sampras.
Obviously, Gawain had never experienced such an occasion, and he couldn't help but be a little curious.
It wasn't until he actually entered the tavern that Gawain could understand what Sampras's mischievous smile meant——
French.
French again.
Paris as a whole dislikes English-speaking "tourists," and bistros take that one step further.
Gawain stood in front of the bar and greeted him in English several times. The bartender and waiters pretended not to see Gawain and were busy going back and forth, but they didn't care at all about losing Gawain as a customer.
This... is so unexpected.
But if you think about it seriously, it’s not surprising at all. In just a few days in Paris, I have already deeply experienced that English is not welcome here.
What to do?
After thinking for a while, Gawain raised his voice and called out, "Excuse me, can anyone help?"
Chinese, standard Mandarin.
Gawain spoke directly in his native dialect.
Then, miraculously, the waiter and bartender "heard" Gawain at the same time, both turned their heads and looked over, and came over with friendly smiles.
One second, no one cares; the next second, there are too many service staff.
"I would like to ask, do I need to make a reservation for dinner? Or do we only provide drinking service here?"
"Chi-go-go-go-go-go-go."
"I'm ordering dinner. Is dinner okay here?"
"Jigujigu."
The three people were gesticulating face to face, interpreting the picture of a chicken talking to a duck. Everyone talked to themselves and had a back-and-forth conversation, but the information communication efficiency was zero.
All three people found it a bit funny, and smiles couldn't help but creep up to the corners of their mouths. Then the waiter thought for a while and asked.
"Chinese?"
This time it was finally in English, so Gawain could understand.
After receiving a positive reply from Gawain's nod, the waiter immediately said, "Mud Howl", paused, and said with a slightly uncertain tone, "Hehe?"
Gawain thought for a moment, "Thank you?"
"Yes, Crab!" The waiter was very happy and said again, "...I love you?"
As a result, the last sentence was the most standard. Gawain gave him a thumbs up to express his appreciation, "It's very standard, and the pronunciation is very accurate."
The waiter laughed happily, high-fived the bartender in celebration, and spoke a series of words in French. Judging from his expression, he seemed to be showing off something.
The bartender didn't believe it. He patted Gawain on the shoulder and asked in English, "He said he can speak Chinese. Is it true?"
It seems that Parisians can actually speak English, but the point is, they don't want to.
After Gawain realized this, his smile became brighter and brighter, "Yes, he speaks Chinese. Do you want to learn? I can teach you too, it's not difficult."
At this time, another customer came over in front of the bar. The bartender said "Sorry" to that person with a smile, and then pointed at Gawain and said a lot of French. Judging from his expression and movements and the expression of the guest, The bartender seemed to be saying, let the other person wait, he was learning Chinese from Gawain.
Who would have thought that it is not English but Chinese that becomes the bridge of communication in a foreign country?
Fortunately, after breaking down the barriers through Chinese, things became smoother——
The waiters and bartenders received Gawain very warmly. Of course, communication was still done in English, but the treatment was completely different.
Now, Gawain is a VIP in the tavern, and other waiters will wave and greet Gawain in a friendly way when they come and go, which makes Gawain experience the treatment of a panda.
The atmosphere in the tavern is indeed slightly different from what Gawain imagined.
The interior is mainly a space for enjoying dinner. There are two seats and four seats. The small space is fully utilized, so that the aisle is a bit narrow. The coming and going of the waiters is also a technical job. Looking at their light footsteps, I feel like It's like ballet.
The outside is mainly a space for chatting and drinking. If you want to smoke, you can also go outside. The people gathered in twos and threes are discussing particularly lively, but all the noisy sounds are swept into the vast night sky by the autumn wind, and the indoors are slightly quiet.
Occasionally, some people finish their meal indoors, then go outside with their wine glasses, smoke and chat, and then return indoors after the wine glasses are empty.
Freedom, leisure, lightness, full of vitality, far less noisy than imagined, but filled with a youthful atmosphere of life——
It has nothing to do with age. In fact, within sight, you can see college students, white-collar workers, and sloppy uncles dressed casually.
Gawain finally understood what Sampras meant. Without personal experience, it would be difficult to describe such a scene just through hearing.
Wow.
At this moment, the door of the tavern was pushed open again, and a gust of autumn wind blew in, and the bustling noise outside also surged in like a tide; the door was soon closed, but the sound of loud talk did not disappear, with the sound of a tornado. The gesture swept over him, dissipating the heat in the room.
Reflexively, Gawain turned his head and looked towards the source of the sound, and then he saw——
The girl I met at the coffee shop this morning.
