Raf's Travel Diaries

The one person out of place. The music is pounding; high people are dancing in trance to the electro beat that pierces your eardrums. You can't believe you got so lucky to have ended up here.  The combination of a Medieval Castle, a XXI century Dj and people dressed up in mafia costumes popping pills somehow manages not to look surreal, although it does seem more like a movie set than an actual party. The people are perfect, the settings as well, there are even log fires burning in the stone fireplaces. The lights are dim, drinks and food abundant, girls try to look even more plastic than they already do and somehow manage to get away with it. A huge mirrored disco ball hangs from the ceiling, contrasting with the 300-year-old lamp that hangs besides it. Flashing colored lights fill the room. A woman from the Russian Mafia in a fur coat tosses her head back with laughter as a man from the Italian mafia whispers in her ear something in a French accented Italian. Two girls

Once again, I am lost. -Hello new place. As always, no map. I walk a bit here, and a bit there. I have no clue in what part of the city I am. -Oh well, I might as well get some late breakfast, a coffee maybe. I see a sign that reads: Cafe-Restaurant. The place is empty except for one table where a couple sips coffee. I pick a table and sit down. The waiter ignores me, so I call him and he drags himself to my table. I have practiced in my head what I'm about to say, and with my best smile I plunge: -Un cappuccino s'il vous plait. He looks at me in disgust, and with a heavy accented english replies: -No. Unless you pay in advance and drink it in less zan 10 minutes. Ziz is a Restaurant, can't you see we are in lunch time. I can feel my expression change dramatically, and my right eyebrow rising . I exaggeratedly look around to make my point that the place was empty. -Non, merci. That was a great first impression the Parisians made on me. Raf