Here we go.
For eating before partying, if you want the whole French experience, you can go at l’A.O.C. (rue des Fossés Saint-Bernard) for their os à moelle, which I’m so fond of. Yes, it is the inside of beef bones and you spread it on brown bread with salt de Guérande. to die for. Also, Le Hangar (Rue Rambuteau), or even snails at the overpriced l’Escargot, rue Montorgueil (where any café will offer good food and nice settings).
In general, apéros are served with the classic charcuterie and fromages platter, which you can order anywhere there’s wine. Apéro Me will make her own thanks to Healthy Me. Badass Me would be near her fridge, eating a whole camembert and crying whisky tears of self-contempt.
Tonight might be all right
Apéro is when we French people shine. I believe us to have the perfect timing for the end of the afternoon. See, in Argentina, you’re pretty much supposed to wait until midnight to have a bite. Oh no, let’s not go out yet, it’s barely 5 am. By then Apéro Me is drunk on heavy red wine and sleeps in a foetal position somewhere, as on this picture, lovingly taken by my friend Claudia, a hot-blooded Spaniard.
Whereas protestant countries just eat at 5 pm and go to bed at 9pm, after some savage after-work party. Très disgraceful. When I was in Copenhagen, the only place to find something to eat after 8 was the 7-Eleven. There was a whole group of bored Danish youngsters eating krauts with us. It was like it was happening there.
French people adore getting out of work and enjoy the most of their day. For us, it actually starts when we throw that work case and put on our espadrilles. If it’s sunny, go for any place with water and grass, and pop open a bottle of roro. The greyish ones are the best. Act as if you knew wine. Which you don’t, but Apéro Me has some confuse knowledge on the etiquette and can say fancy shit stuff.
Go on les quais, although we’re having a rat epidemics and let me tell you those basterds get out in hoards at night and all of a sudden it’s no longer the romantic sunset on the Seine banks or watching tango on a Friday night at Jussieu, but a scary night with rats and homeless pervs. Don’t miss the exit. Or at le Canal up until Ourcq. It is a lovely walk which will lead you to Stalingrad, where you’ll walk between the refugees tents to Le Point Éphémère and La Rotonde. Prefer to go dancing there on weekends and book a ticket on Shotgun. Finally, for a great before time, simply go to the UDO, rue Neuve Popincourt, for a kraut and German beers. They have great sets in order to start the night.
Time to shake what your momma gave ya
Learn this: from 5 to 7, people do their stuff home. At 7, remain light on the booze, as it all starts at 9. At 11 only should you ask yourself if you want to go out. It’s all about finding this place that will lead you up to the 2am dancing and the comeback of Badass Me.
Here is how it goes.
Pretty much, you have nothing on the Left Bank, except for parties at La Cité Universitaire. Then, you have what we call les rues de la soif, or Streets of Thirst (Rue Keller, rue Amelot, rue Mouffetard, the little streets around Châtelet, the little streets near la Fontaine St-Michel, rue Oberkampf). It’ll be Erasmus students and Provincial out-of-age guys and sad bars and kebabs and puke.
If you’re more than 16 and have a shred of self-esteem, don’t go in a rue de la soif. Keep it for desperate times. Otherwise, you’ll end up shooting yourself up with vodka-caramel. Prefer checking events online at Le Badaboum, for instance. There is also Chez Moune, in the 9th district. If you can squeeze in, check Le Carmen (Georges Bizet’s private hotel particulier), but it’s pretty dull once you’re in.
Right now, it’s all about pop-up places in insolite rooftops and such. That is why you should connect to Le Perchoir (be prepared to wait 3 and a half hour if you don’t go at 5pm) and everything at La Cité de la Mode. Just google Lieu éphémère Paris and you should find a lot of recommandations. My friend Clémence regularly goes to La Colonie and Le Consulat. Here it is: 2 am and Badass Me. It’ll be simple: Le Rex, and that’s it. I’m too old for that shit, will I mumble while I stumble in.
After a few hours sweating and dancing, you should find me where it is possible to after party, such as the Pygallion, but mainly I’ll be wandering around a fast food restaurant and ordering 45 euros of fries. The Hotel de Ville Quick has saved my ass more than once, as well as the always-open crêperie rue Rambuteau. By the way, time to confess: every time the crepe guy turns around, I dive my hand into the Nutella pot and lick it. I just seems like such a sensible idea every time. For a drunk munch, go to the very French Le Tambour (rue Montmartre), opened until late.
Badass Me would also try and have a few drinks at the dingy but efficient Connétable (rue des Archives), but at the only condition to be wasted enough to invent yourself a new life and think whoa this rosé is really good. Because, let me tell you, it isn’t.
Time to try and find my way out of Here. Good night, and good luck to find yours.