Frantically trying to finish another chunk of Mexico chapters before starting on the _next_ project, about _New_ Mexico–so hold your breath for more exciting tales of zany innkeepers and crotchety museum curators, once I get there on the 20th. I’m somehow thinking it will be easier because people will be speaking English, but I’m probably wrong.

Meanwhile, I’m excited because a _real_ French bistro has opened in Astoria. Owned by actual French people. With honest-to-God French food and at least one French waiter. And _crazy cheap_ beer and wine!

I’ve never been one to fetishize the French, but there’s nothing more disappointing than a place that says it’s a bistro but is somehow too slick or too expensive or too… I don’t know–I have all of Astoria’s faux bistros in mind (and there are a lot of them now), and I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with them except that they’re all trying way too hard. Actually, now that we have just one of the real thing, I can appreciate those other places for what they are (good sushi at Li’l Bistro 33 on Fridays; nice lighting at 718; nice room at Brick) instead of moping through dinner wishing they were something else.