Little brother, another cup of coffee -- Parisian artistic café

Author: Huang Renda
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-05-01
Features: These people are doing the same thing in famous cafes, sitting there drinking coffee, gossiping, and exchanging glances; the friends you want to see are nowhere to be found, because they are drowned in the crowd. If you are lucky enough to have spent your youth in Paris, it will follow you for a lifetime wherever you go; Paris is a moving feast. – Hemingway I sat in Café de Flore, staring at the white paper on the coffee table. I could feel my fingers twitching; I needed to write. Next, I wanted to write about myself. The rising thought was: What is the meaning of being a woman? – Simone de Beauvoir What Paris is annoying is: its exquisite senses, gentleness, its tendency to call the beautiful pretty, and to call the pretty beautiful. What is appealing is: the terrible loneliness – a silent loneliness that fills the remaining soul with a surge of sorrow. – Camus Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec, Sartre, Hemingway Their footsteps in Paris Paris is one of the few cities in the world that refuses to change. I am delighted to see her stubbornness, for capriciousness is not a trait I admire. In 1972, influenced by France’s "May 68 Revolution," I traveled far to Paris with a group of "angry young men" to pay homage. Even though most of my time was spent studying the works of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Trotsky, I still faintly tasted the vicissitudes and stubbornness of Paris. Yes, we could only taste the intangible Paris; the tangible Paris was too luxurious for us poor students. Sitting in a café cost 1.2 francs per cup, while standing at the bar cost 0.7 francs. You can guess whether we were sitting or standing. In the student-packed Latin Quarter, we often had to assert that we were on the "Left Bank" (you know, newcomers to Paris often struggle to distinguish between the Left Bank and the Right Bank), then searching for the traces of the stones that students had dug from the roads to resist the riot police. Of course, they were gone. We walked past the bookstore owner, who looked a bit like Einstein. Books were something we could never afford – after standing through a round of books, we went back to the bar for coffee, but this time we could only have a small cup. However, the cafes in Paris are truly fascinating; it’s hard to imagine how Parisians (in this sense, all French people) would live without them. Some say the street lamp posts in Paris are very unique, as if each one hides a small story behind it. I say: Yes, yes, that’s right – the cafes, Hemingway, Shakespeare’s bookshops! I agree, really. My dear friend Huang Renda arrived in Paris three years later than I did. I’m very happy that he has finally decided to share these books with the world; of course, I suggest that it’s best to explore it in person for a richer experience. If that’s the case, then Renda’s book can serve as a guide!