I dropped off for a while. A long while. Sorry about that. We were moving our good selves back to San Francisco, and before that, trying to squash in as much traveling as possible, right up until the move. It was really sad to leave Paris, and especially now with the recent terrorism, I miss it horribly. Being away from Paris during this time feels like not being there for a friend who’s going through hard shit. Not sure what I would be doing even if I was there, but it still feels strange.
We’d planned to stay in France much longer than a year, but things don’t always go as expected. And no complaints on San Francisco life, this is my favorite city in the world. But it does feel like an adventure cut short. That said, it won’t be so scary to ask dudes for pictures of their beards any more. Also, since we’re no longer in France, I’ve decided the post titles of this here wee blog shall revert back to my mother tongue. Regardless, I still have many barbes français to post, so let’s get after it.
The guy I’ve got for today is a friendly Frenchman, discovered at one of my most reliable drinking holes in Paris. Bar du Marché. Lots of seating, good foot traffic (hence people-watching), and all the servers wear overalls. I was there with my friend Kristen and my husby, Max. Kristen was teaching us how to use the app Periscope. We were sipping wine, making live broadcasts, and enjoying ourselves immensely when I swiveled around to look for the waiter. Instead I found a smiling redbeard sitting directly behind me with his friends. I turned, I asked, affirmative. So we snapped the shot and all was right in the world.
The day continued along merrily, and we discovered what can only be described as a Paris townie dive bar. My pug made friends with a distinguished older gentleman, I made friends with a drunk wearing a feather boa as hair. And then we had a tasty dinner at L'Avant Comptoir. So capturing the joyful redbeard was just one small part of a sensational day.