"Match Point(
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.
Gao Wen couldn't determine the opening time of the tavern, but he could pass by 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 didn't seem so scary.
There are two kinds of chairs at the entrance of the tavern.
A small round table like a coffee house, where people sit face to face, with their knees touching their knees, and their elbows resting on the table, they can feel each other's breath. Parisians, who usually keep their distance, only break down the boundaries between strangers at this time.
One is a small round table with high stools, but almost no one sits on a chair. Instead, they stand beside the round table with a glass of red wine or beer, standing casually, 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 people and 30 people gather together. Friends stand beside the high table and talk loudly. Stand directly on the street or sit on the doorstep.
On the contrary, it doesn't look so crowded indoors.
A glass of wine and a cigarette are enough.
At first, Gao Wen thought it was a bar or a club, but after chatting with Sampras, he realized that this is the most common tavern in Europe, not only in France, but also in different countries. Formal, but the best place to meet friends.
"Compared to American bars, well, it's more literary and retro, just listen to their chatting topics."
"In the bar, the discussion is about how many prey were hunted on the weekend, or about the troubles encountered in love and marriage; but in the tavern, they will chat about literature, movies, paintings, and philosophy."
"Of course, it's not absolute. I just emphasize the difference of an atmosphere."
This is the answer given by Sampras.
Obviously, Gao Wen had never experienced such an occasion before, so he couldn't help being curious.
It wasn't until he actually entered the interior of the tavern that Gawain was able to understand what Sampras's mischievous smirk meant—
French.
French again.
All of Paris doesn't like English-speaking "tourists", and bistros are better than that.
Gao Wen stood in front of the bar and greeted him several times in English. The bartender and waiters pretended not to see Gao Wen, and kept busy back and forth, but they didn't care about losing Gao Wen as a customer at all.
This...was such a surprise.
But when I think about it, it is not surprising that within a few days in Paris, I have already experienced deeply that English is not popular here.
What should I do then?
After thinking about it, Gao Wen raised his voice and called out, "Excuse me, is there anyone who can help?"
Chinese, a standard Mandarin.
Gao Wen spoke directly in his native dialect.
Then, miraculously, the waiter and the bartender "heard" Gao Wen at the same time, turned their heads to look over, and walked over with friendly smiles.
One second, no one cares; the next second, there are too many service personnel.
"I want to ask, do you need to make a reservation for dinner? Or is it only for drinking?"
"Me, order, dinner. Dinner, is it okay here?"
"Chick, chick, chick."
The three people gesticulated face to face, interpreting the picture of a chicken talking to a duck with their strength. Everyone talked to themselves and talked back and forth, but the efficiency of information communication was zero.
The three of them thought it was a little funny, and they couldn't help smiling. Then the waiter thought about it and asked a question.
"Chinese people?"
This time it was finally in English, so Gao Wen could understand it.
After getting an affirmative answer from Gao Wen's nod, the waiter immediately said, "Howling mud", paused, and said in a slightly uncertain tone, "Hehe?"
Gao Wen thought for a while, "Thank you?"
"Yes, crab!" The waiter was very happy, and said again, "...I love you?"
In the end, the last sentence was the most standard, and Gao Wen gave him a thumbs up to express his appreciation, "Very standard, the pronunciation is very accurate."
The waiter laughed happily, gave the bartender a high-five to celebrate, and said a bunch of French, which seemed to be showing off from the expression.
The bartender didn't believe it. He patted Gao Wen's shoulder and asked in English, "He said he can speak Chinese, is that true?"
It seems that Parisians actually speak English, but the point is, they don't want to.
After Gao Wen realized this, his smile became 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, and the bartender smiled and said "Sorry" to that person, then pointed at Gao Wen and said a lot of French, judging from the expression and gestures and the expression of the customer, The bartender seemed to be saying, tell the other party to wait, he is learning Chinese from Gao Wen.
Who would have thought that it is not English but Chinese that serves as a bridge of communication in a foreign country?
Fortunately, after breaking down the barriers through Chinese, things went smoothly—
The waiters and bartenders received Gao Wen very warmly. Of course, the communication was still done in English, but the treatment was completely different.
Now, Gao Wen is the VIP in the tavern~www.mtlnovel.com~ When the other waiters come and go, they will also wave and greet Gao Wen in a friendly way, which makes Gao Wen experience the treatment of a panda.
The atmosphere in the tavern was indeed slightly different from what Gao Wen had imagined.
The interior is mainly used for dinner. There are double seats and four-seaters. The small space is fully utilized, so that the aisles are a bit narrow. It's like ballet.
The outdoor space is mainly for chatting and drinking. If you smoke, you can also go outside. The crowds gathered in twos and threes are discussing livelyly, but all the noisy sounds are swept into the vast night sky by the autumn wind, and the interior is slightly quieter.
Occasionally, some people finish their meal indoors, then go outside with their glasses of wine, chat while smoking, and return indoors after the glasses are empty.
Free, idle, brisk, full of vigor, far from being noisy as imagined, but full of a youthful breath of life—
It has nothing to do with age. In fact, you can see college students, white-collar workers, and sloppy uncles dressed casually.
Gao Wen finally understood what Sampras meant. If he didn't experience it personally, it would be very difficult to describe such a scene just through hearing.
Crash.
At this moment, the door of the tavern was pushed open again, a gust of autumn wind blew in, and the hustle and bustle outside was also surging like a tide; the door was closed soon, but the voice of talking did not disappear. The posture swept over, dissipating the dry heat in the room.
Reflexively, Gao Wen turned his head, looked towards the source of the sound, and then saw—
The girl I met at the coffee shop in the morning.