Looking back on Symfony Live 2011: part 2

It was around eleven o’clock when we walked towards Boulevard Jourdan, which is part of a belt line road around the city centre and is parallel to the Périphérque, but with a smaller diameter. If we would follow the road east we would walk back to the RER station and the university, instead we went the opposite direction.

There were mostly large greyish buildings – probably from smog and exhaust fumes – typical for the outskirts of a major city. We passed a Lidl supermarket, which we already spotted on Google Maps back in the apartment, and checked for its opening and closing hours. There was a night shop across the street where we bought ourselves breakfast for the next morning. It had some pretty ridiculous prices, but we needed our coffee, jus-d’orange, baguettes and Nutella. I mean, you never really went to France if you haven’t had pain au chocolat. It’s like…it’s like bread with chocolate spread. It’s crazy. It’s luscious! And you always end up damaging you palate which you can then disinfect with some nice fresh orange juice. Yummy!

Up ahead the neon-lights of Le Corentin were trying to lure us inside. There were one or two bars more on the same block, but the first one was the most inviting. It looked quite gezellig. When we saw the price list it became a lot less gezellig. Almost 6 Euros for a (30cl) beer! Amsterdam isn’t inexpensive, but this was downright absurd. 25 cents per sip! The Dutch are known for being a bit cheap and nagging about prices, so we tried to live up to our names for the rest of the evening. Six Euros! Damn Paris, y u no cheap?!

After we finished our 50 buck round of drinks, one of my colleagues wanted to buy a second round. We thought he was seizuring, but he looked pretty healthy…and pretty serious. There is a Dutch saying: “Smaakt naar meer (tastes very moreish)”, but being screwed over is never really moreish. Luckily the waiter misunderstood our ‘another round’ hand gestures and brought the check. They are probably used to tourists getting the hell outta there after their first drink.
When we left the bar we had a quick glance over the neon sign and made a mental note: Le Corentin; ne jamais plus.

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