Chapter 636: Youthful and Vigorous

The so-called tavern is not a formal tavern or bar, but a tavern on the way back to the residence from the training ground.

Gawain couldn't be sure of the tavern's opening hours, but he could always pass by it when he returned to his residence after training every day. The cream-colored light always made the night reveal a little gentleness, and the gusts of evil wind in the late autumn night did not seem so scary.

There are two types of chairs placed at the entrance of the tavern.

A small round table like the one in a coffee shop, where people sit face to face, knees touching, elbows resting on the tabletop so they can feel each other's breath. Parisians, who usually keep their distance, only break the boundaries between strangers at this moment.

One is a small round table with high stools, but almost no one sits on the chairs. Instead, people stand beside the round table with a glass of red wine or beer, casually standing by the edge and chatting with friends in twos and threes.

Every time I pass by, I can always see a bustling crowd at the door. More than 20 or 30 people gathered together, friends standing next to high tables talking loudly, couples crowded around small round tables whispering, and some people even stood directly on the street or sat on the steps at the door.

On the contrary, the room doesn't seem that crowded.

A glass of wine and a cigarette are enough.

At first, Gawain thought it was a bar or a club, but when he chatted with Sampras, he realized that this was the most common tavern in Europe. Not only in France, but also in different countries, there is such a tavern culture. It is not so formal, but it is the best place for friends to gather.

"Compared to American bars, well, they are more literary and retro. Just listen to the topics they talk about and you'll know."

"In a bar, people would discuss how much prey they caught during the weekend hunting, or the troubles they encountered in love and marriage; but in a tavern, they would talk about literature, movies, paintings and philosophy."

"Of course, it's not absolute. I just emphasize the difference in atmosphere."

This is the answer given by Sampras.

Obviously, Gawain had never experienced such an occasion before, and he couldn't help but feel curious.

It was not until he actually entered the tavern that Gawain understood what Sampras's mischievous smile meant.

French.

French again.

Paris as a whole dislikes English-speaking "tourists", and the bistros are even more so.

Gawain stood in front of the bar and greeted customers several times in English, but the bartender and waiter simply pretended not to see Gawain and kept busy going back and forth, not caring at all about losing Gawain as a customer.

This... is really unexpected.

But when I think about it carefully, it is not surprising at all. Within just a few days in Paris, I have deeply experienced inside and out that English is not welcome here.

What should I do? After thinking for a while, Gao Wen called out, "Excuse me, is there anyone who can help me?"

Chinese, standard Mandarin.

Gao Wen spoke directly in his native dialect.

Then, magically, the waiter and the bartender "heard" Gao Wen at the same time, both turned their heads and walked over with warm and friendly smiles.

One second, no one is interested; the next second, there is an oversupply of service staff.

"I'd like to ask, do I need to make a reservation for dinner? Or do you only serve drinks here?"

"Chick, chick, chick, chick."

"I'm going to order dinner. Dinner, is this okay?"

"Jigujigu."

The three people were facing each other and gesticulating, which was a perfect interpretation of the scene of "talking at cross purposes". Everyone was talking to himself and they were conversing back and forth, but the efficiency of information communication was zero.

The three of them found it funny and couldn't help but smile. Then the waiter thought for a moment and asked a question.

"Chinese?"

This time it was finally in English, so Gao Wen could understand it.

After receiving Gawain's affirmative nod, the waiter immediately said, "Mud howl," paused, and said with a slightly uncertain tone, "Hehe?"

Gao Wen thought for a moment and said, "Thank you?"

"Yes, crab!" The waiter was very happy and said, "...I love you?"

As a result, it was the last sentence that was spoken most standardly. Gao Wen gave him a thumbs up to express his appreciation, "Very standard, and the pronunciation is very accurate."

The waiter laughed happily, high-fived the bartender, and spoke a lot in French. From his expression, it seemed that he was showing off something.

The bartender didn't believe it, patted Gao Wen on the shoulder, and asked in English, "He said he can speak Chinese, is that true?"

It seems that Parisians actually speak English, but the point is, they don't want to speak it.

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After Gao Wen realized this, his smile became even brighter. "Yes, he speaks Chinese. Do you want to learn? I can teach you. It's not difficult."

At this time, another customer came to the front of the bar. The bartender said "sorry" to that person with a smile, then pointed at Gawain and spoke a bunch of French. Judging from his expression and actions as well as the expression of the customer, the bartender seemed to be saying, "Wait a minute," and he was learning Chinese from Gawain.

Who would have thought that it is not English but Chinese that becomes the bridge of communication in a foreign country?

Fortunately, after breaking the barrier through Chinese, things became smooth -

The waiters and bartenders welcomed Gao Wen very warmly. Of course, communication was still done in English, but the treatment was completely different.

Now, Gawain is a VIP in the tavern. Other waiters will wave and greet Gawain in a friendly manner when they come and go, which makes Gawain experience the treatment of a panda.

The atmosphere of the tavern was indeed slightly different from what Gawain had imagined.

The interior is mainly a space for enjoying dinner. There are seats for two and four. The small space is fully utilized, so the aisles are a bit narrow. The coming and going of the waiters is a technical job. Looking at their light footsteps, it is like ballet.

The outdoor space is mainly for chatting and drinking. If you want to smoke, you can also go outside. People gathered in twos and threes are discussing very lively, but the noisy sounds are all blown into the vast night sky by the autumn wind, and the room becomes a little quieter.

Occasionally, some people would finish their meal indoors, then take their wine glasses outside, smoke and chat, and then return indoors when their glasses were empty.

Free, leisurely, brisk, full of vitality, far from being noisy as imagined, but filled with a youthful breath of life——

It has nothing to do with age. In fact, within the field of vision, you can see college students, white-collar workers, and sloppy uncles dressed casually. You can find everything.

Gawain finally understood what Sampras meant. It would be very difficult to describe such a scene if one did not experience it personally but only heard about it.

Crash.

At this moment, the door of the tavern was pushed open again, and a gust of autumn wind blew in, and the bustling noise outside came in like a tide; soon the door was closed, but the sound of loud talking did not disappear, sweeping in like a tornado, dispersing the heat in the room.

Reflexively, Gawain turned his head and looked towards the source of the sound, and then he saw——

The girl I met in the coffee shop this morning.

(End of this chapter)