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It’s highly unusual to go to Le Fanfaron without meeting someone new, without witnessing one of the bartenders’ sensational alcohol- infused tantrums and certainly, without having something pretty rock’n’roll to tell your friends about. I see a lot of well-dressed men in Paris, fresh from the office board room hopping on bikes rather than into flash cars.
6 Rue de la Main d’Or, 75011 Paris, Metro: Ledru-Rollin P. It’s Independence Day for Americans on Monday, 4th July. I think it’s extremely refreshing and shows that it takes more than a pimped out ride to show you have style…
On Sunday nights, Le Caveau des Oubliettes, is exactly where you need to go to be seduced by the best live blues in Paris.
The oldest jazz club in Paris and remembered as a hotspot or post-war jazz, there’s nothing much to the bar upstairs, but it’s the 12th century underground wine cellar that draws in the music-savvy crowd.
Flore en Ile, 42 Quai Orléans, 75004 click to view map here :::: When thinking of romantic things to do, I’ll admit, shopping isn’t the first thing that would come to mind.
It is common knowledge amongst most Parisian men that American girls who come to Paris in the summer are searching for three simple things: 1) The Eiffel Tower– along with a miniature version of it, encased in a plastic snow globe.
2) The smelliest, least transportable traditional French food (that most French people indeed don’t even eat), which will not actually get past customs. 3) A summer love affair with a French boy who could read the small print off a can of peas and still make it sound sexy in his accent.
:::: On the hottest day of the year in Paris, at 37 degrees, I was walking down the street, wondering whether I would actually make it to the end without biting the dust when I stopped and noticed this black labrador sprawled out on the sidewalk. alternative, balloon, blues, bridges, Canal Saint Martin, delivery, food, French, guide, ideas, Ile Saint Louis, jazz, local knowledge, markets, Merci, Paris, pastries, pizza, romance, romantic, shopping, things to do, weekend, wine did the unthinkable last weekend. Oh the horror I experienced, I wouldn’t know where to begin.
He had obviously been suffering in the heat with such a thick coat, but had cleverly figured out that these metal grills were in fact acting as a massive ventilator from underneath, Marilyn Monroe style. I could start by describing what an obnoxiously sunny day it was, how the restaurant’s terrace indecently over-looked a glistening canal, and terrifyingly, the conversation post-main course turned to weekend escapes in the French countryside– enjoy a double date here and there, discovering the romance of Paris and generally speculating on the whole ‘French-boys-aren’t-arse-holes-like-English-boys-are-(so-get-used-to-it)’ theme du jour.