Tuesday, 18 June 2013


I want to blog but my laptop is being a dickhead, freezing and updating itself, then letting out a jar-jar-jarrrrrr noise when I try to do two things at once. My Cinderella room is unbearably hot as well, this afternoon I actually had to get dressed and go for a walk around sunny Paris, can you imagine?

It's been a whole week since I last blogged and in that time I've eaten at the Oddest Restaurant in Paris, been chased under a bridge by a mad Spanish man with a broken chair, taken the nursery kids to a photo shoot at A.P.C and I've been to London and back, for the bestest wedding ever!!

First the restaurant...

It was B's restaurant on Wednesday and she wanted to go a Manga-themed Japanese restaurant she'd read about, where the waitresses dressed up as cartoon characters and everyone sat in individual booths, which had little televisions in them showing Japanese cartoons. B told everyone it was next to American Dream a garish, USA-themed bar near Madeleine, which I've walked past before and thought it looked like TGI Fridays on crack, with the walls and ceiling crammed with random photographs and 'comedy' props...

What B didn't realise is that the Japanese Bistro isn't just next to American Dream... it's the same place. There's a separate entrance and the decor is 'Manga on acid' rather than 'Americana on crack', but the two restaurants share a staircase, a kitchen and menus. 

As soon as the waitress (who was indeed dressed as a Manga cartoon character but her monochrome, ill-fitting costume looked more like an old fashioned school uniform, or a non-sexy French maid's outfit) told us that the Japanese Bistro and American Dream where the same place, we contemplating going somewhere else, but it was already half nine, we wanted to go out afterwards and we reasoned that sometimes bad restaurants make an evening ten times funnier...


So we stuck with B's choice and got a booth in the Japanese Bistro. It was almost empty, the bright neon lights and televisions flashing at nobody. It was a bit eerie. Then we got the menus and everything did seem a bit nightmarish. The same person responsible for the trippy decor was clearly behind the hideous, disturbing menus... and they love Photoshop. The menus were bursting with mad photos of girls dressed as Manga cartoon characters and freaky images of people pretending to be Japanese food...


The woman made of sushi I found particularly terrifying and it was partly because of this image that I decided not to order Japanese food but also, we all agreed that it wasn't a good idea to order sushi in a restaurant that also serves burgers, fries and milkshakes. Jack of all trades, master of one (digitally turning people in Japanese food).

I also took a photo of this disgusting patisserie snail, a surefire way to put people off deserts (for life):

And this crusty sandwich that has sprouted legs and eyes. There was really need to write 'Sandwiches Remember!' underneath, this sandwich-lizard will haunt my dreams forever:

As predicted, the awfulness of the restaurant made the meal a memorable one... We stayed until the restaurant closed (trying to finish our two litres of wine- it was one litre for twelve euros) and the owner/manager stood at the side of our table making cat noises until we were so freaked out we left.

After the Japanese Bistro, me, B, Shayna and Holly went to Wanderlust. I've not been since it first opened last summer, but I've been told by my Twitter spies that since it first opened it's become a crowded, over-priced poser-magnet.

Full of posers or not, Wanderlust is an amazing building, viewed from across the river, that tunnel of light reflecting on the black river, like a green snake under the water. Unfortunately, looking at it from across the river also means you can see all the cool kids partying on the roof top terrace, which Julia told me is an exclusive club 'for artists'. Humph, I wouldn't want to go up there anyway...

Before we went in to the club, we sat under the bridge drinking a bottle of champagne B got for her birthday. We attracted the attention of a very chatty Spanish man with teeny tiny pupils (crack? heroine? lighting fluid?) who, considering none of us spoke Spanish and he didn't speak French or English, enjoyed a very long conversation with us. Actually, Shayna and B spoke a bit of Spanish to him, much to Holly and mine's surprise, but the novelty wore off once we realised Spanish Man wasn't going to leave until we gave him some champagne.

We finished the champagne really quickly and got up to leave. Once Spanish Man realised what was going on, he ran across to the other side of the bridge where bizarrely there was a wooden chair. He started smashing up the chair, then he roared at us and ran after us, holding one of the chair legs. We kept stopping and laughing, then one of us would turn round and see he was still chasing after us.

Just before we got to the entrance, two guys asked us in lovely school-boy English is they may please accompany us into Wanderlust. Obviously they needed girls to get in. Normally, when men ask to 'accompany' us into clubs, they are unsavoury-looking characters wearing double-denim or trackie bottoms and I just run away from them, but these two guys looked ok. I felt sorry for them, it must be hard going to clubs in Paris when you're not with a group of girls.

As we walked to the entrance, one of them said indignantly, "We've got money!"

I felt proper soz for them then, I imagined them choosing their clothes and doing their hair, trying to look cool and the bouncers just taking one look at them and saying 'Non'. They looked fine to me, but I think they must have had scally accents, more easily detectable to Parisian bouncers than to me. The bouncers wouldn't let them in, so we left them at the entrance. Me and Holly felt like crying for them but that might have been all the wine and champagne.

Inside it wasn't too crowded, I suppose because it was a Wednesday night. The music was good, kind of 70s funk and house (I DO NOT mean Funky House) but we were all knackered, so we left at about 4am. On our way home, crossing over the bridge, we saw Spanish Man staggering around and we ran past him, screaming.

My laptop has started being ridiculously slow now, it's overheating and dying a little death.

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