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You are here: Live Your Life E-zine > Hostel Newsletters - 2010 > July E-Zine > Americans Abroad

Americans Abroad

Wherever you’re living, it’s important to have your local spots. Places where you have friends and where you know the food is good. A place where you feel comfortable and at ease - where the rigor of life loosens just a touch. Maybe it’s the kind of spot where anything can happen. Maybe there’s someone in particular there who you want to visit. Perhaps it’s a place where you can be alone and remain anonymous, if only for a moment.

It doesn’t have to be a bar, restaurant, teahouse or any sort of establishment. It could be a tiny garden hidden away deep within the city walls that only you and maybe a select few know about. Hold these places dear. The chances are that they’ll play a pivotal role in the life you’ve built abroad. During those formative moments when you need sustenance, a moment to yourself, somewhere to get liquored up, watch the Final Four at some ridiculous hour or impress an alien goddess from the far reaches of the earth, you’ll be happy to have the option handy.

Growing up in Durham, North Carolina there are places I held and still hold close - miss constantly and look forward to returning to. Places where I solidified friendships, made life-changing decisions, learned to be a lover and *cough* tried new things. It was here where I asked the universe big and impossible questions, and sometimes got answers.

I think of late nights on the rooftop deck of Cosmic Cantina and the local burrito joint - open until 4am. It’s the kind of place where you’ll see students and professors, groups of hormonally raging young uns’ and wrinkly old couples. I frequent these places with my family, my crew, my once in a blue moon date and my out of town guests. Jorge who wears many hats as order taker, bartender, manager and register guy, has watched me go from goofy pre-teen to slightly mature (maybe) twenty something. He’s seen me at my best and my worst, and never passed judgment …

Fast forward to Paris, France, June 2010, year of our Lord Barack Obama. After carving out a niche and building a nest high in the city centre I’ve found a few places that serve a similar purpose. Some were passed on from others, while some have taken time and experience on my own accord, to uncover. Regardless these spots become your own. It’s where your memories are made and where the growing up goes on.

Bo-Bun is one. The name alone should stir excitement and induce salivation. If you’re drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs you already know it. You won’t find this place in any guidebook or on the internet. Most likely you’ll walk right by it without noticing. Unless it’s 9pm on a Saturday night and there are more people milling around outside on the street than can fit inside this tiny wonder.

If you’re able to squeeze through the door and work your way around the little L shaped bar you’ll see a beautiful girl with silky black hair named Marie. Although busy pouring beers and delivering steaming dishes to famished tables, as soon as she sees you - she’ll smile warmly.

Dr Quan is the one man show at the back of the house, in part because this restaurant and safe haven of soul is his brainchild, and also because only one person can fit in the kitchen. From the dining area you catch glimpses of him slicing, dicing and sautéing away to create hearty and homely, French and Vietnamese fusion foods.

There’s only table space for 20 and the walls are lined with shelves of classic literature and philosophy, a chess set and a row of obscure DVDs that are sometimes played on the tiny television. Plants hang from the ceiling and ivy covers the interior walls, giving the place a soothing, organic feel.

If you show up in the middle of the day, you may have the restaurant all to yourself. It’s then that Dr. Quan will come out and greet you, shaking your hand with his super long fingers. He might even sit down and have a spot of tea, telling you all about his days as a philosophy professor in Vietnam and pointing out the many books he’s written. He’ll pass you his manifesto – Man, This Immortal Being - which has been translated into many languages. Then, after giving you the neighbourhood discount, he’ll disappear back into the tiny kitchen as you bask in his calm and soothing afterglow.

Get to know your local places. Share them with your friends. Become a regular. After all, that band with the foxy vocalist you’ve been dying to see is bound to be playing in a little venue, just around the corner, so grab that hot ticket, walk down the hill to the show and have at it.

- Ned Phillips