About 3 months after I arrived in Paris, and after a multitude of visits to my favourite cafes and bars, hoping desperately that I would one day become like one of the Parisians and be greeted warmly by the barman, I was finally recognised by the barman at Au Petit Fer du Cheval.
I cant tell you how satisfying that was 
At first it was just the barman in the evening. A flicker of recognition in his eyes. A slight smile. The next time, it was a full smile, and a “comment ca va?” (“how are you going?”), which is usually reserved only for friends.
Over the following visits, it turned into playful banter, conversations, and unexpected generosity. Like when I had a cold, but had made arrangements to meet some people for networking purposes and went anyway. The barman was shocked that I ordered a cup of tea at 8pm, but realised that I was sick. He looked concerned, and said that I should have some honey and lemon with my tea because it would be good for me. Before I could say anything, my tea, a pot of honey and some slices of lemon were sitting in front of me.
Over the last couple of weeks, the owner who works during the day started to remember me. Yesterday, Lisa and I stopped by at 4pm for a coffee and a slice (slice? more like a slab) of Tarte Tatin (caramelised apple tart) with deliciously sour creme fraiche. I clapped my hands excitedly when my plate arrived and the owner and barman laughed at me. The owner said “you know, this is really easy to make at home.”. I agreed that it looked easy but I had no idea how to make it, let alone make it as delicious as they did. He said: “Next Friday, at 8am, come past, and you can come to the kitchen and watch how we make it.” “Are you sure?” I said, and he held out his hand to shake on it.
Last week, they said I should bring my business cards down to the bar because they often have lawyers stop by and they would be able to let them know I was looking for work.
People say that French waiters can be really rude (I’ve got another post coming on that topic). And its true, sometimes they can be. There are reasons for it, which I’ll attempt to explain in the other post. But once you get past the initial “waiter/client” barrier, and you’ve established yourself as a “regular”, or even just someone who is polite, most waiters will go out of their way for you.
A friend told me that they once went to the same cafe in Potts Point (Sydney) every morning for 2 weeks and not only did the same waiter never remember his order, he didnt even remember his face.
Can you imagine Bill Granger (famous Sydney chef) inviting you to join him in the kitchen to watch how they make their pancakes? I think not….
Victory!
Hi, Kristie
i ran across your website, and found it to be very interesting.
anyhow, i am a bartender in Baltimore. with hopes of moving to France for a year or two. just out of curiosity, how much french would you say i would need to know to look for a bartending job there? i know only the basics, you know “how are you, and my name is? , so so. ” i probably should learn more anyhow, i enjoy your story. keep them coming
Hi Juan
Thanks for commenting on my blog. I write it for my family and friends, and a way to record my experience for the future, but you’re welcome to read as well! Firstly – your biggest hurdle may well be getting a visa to stay in France for more than 3 months. Start talking to your local French embassy now about what your options are. As for bartending jobs, I’m not an expert, I’m sorry. Probably the easiest option for someone with limited French skills is to apply at one of the Australian/English/American bars in Paris, like Cafe Oz. There are quite a few in the 2nd arrondissment. Just do a google search for “Irish bar paris” or something similar and I’m sure you’ll find them all. In general though, the more French you can speak and understand, the better the experience will be for you. Get yourself to French class immediately! Good luck!