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- <text id=92TT2866>
- <title>
- Dec. 28, 1992: Bistro Blues
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
- Dec. 28, 1992 What Does Science Tell Us About God?
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- TRAVEL, Page 62
- Bistro Blues
- </hdr><body>
- <p>The traditional French cafe is slowly dying out, a victim of
- le cocooning, le stress and le fast food
- </p>
- <p>By Margot Hornblower/Paris
- </p>
- <qt>
- <l>The last time I saw Paris</l>
- <l>Her heart was warm and gay</l>
- <l>I heard the laughter of her heart in</l>
- <l>Ev'ry street cafe.</l>
- </qt>
- <p>-- OSCAR HAMMERSTEIN II
- </p>
- <p> Will the time come when an American songwriter, seeking to
- capture the essence of France, pens a lyrical ode to Le Burger
- King or McDonald's? Will the Hemingways, the Sartres and the
- Picassos of the next century debate ideas while dining out on
- le hamburger and le Coca-Cola? The scenario is hardly
- farfetched. For on the street corners of Paris, and in
- provincial cities from Lille to Lourdes, le fast food is
- muscling out bistros at a dizzying rate.
- </p>
- <p> Early in the century, France counted roughly 300,000 cafes
- for 38 million inhabitants, according to Robert Henry, head of
- the cafe section of the restaurateurs union. Today, he laments,
- the number has dropped to 62,000 for a population of 58
- million. Over the past decade, bistros have gone out of business
- at the rate of 3,500 a year. "Each time a cafe closes, a little
- bit of liberty and democracy disappears," says Henry, a
- 71-year-old who was suckled in his parents' Val-d'Oise cafe,
- north of Paris. From his bistro, Le Petit Poucet, Henry sees
- people pouring into Le Quick, a nearby fast-food outlet. "Their
- food is cheaper than ours," he admits. "But we have a role in
- society: to listen to people, to lift their spirits, to provide
- a place where all social classes mix and converse."
- </p>
- <p> For many French, no other institution so embodies their
- civilization as le zinc. Today the counter of the typical
- cafe-bistro is rarely made of zinc--metal alloys and Formica
- are easier to clean--but the rituals remain. The owner who
- shakes hands with the regulars. The blue-uniformed laborer
- downing his half-liter of beer. The war veteran nursing his
- Calvados-laced coffee. In villages, farmers gather after a day's
- harvest for a shot of pastis and a dice game. In cities,
- shopgirls pause for orange juice and a croque monsieur, the
- grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich that is one of the mainstays of
- cafe fare. "Parisian zincs are the ideal theater of the comedy
- of man," observes the weekly L'Express.
- </p>
- <p> The great Left Bank establishments, such as Les Deux
- Magots and Le Flore, thrive by serving up literary nostalgia to
- tourists; even off the beaten track, visitors still find the
- city bristling with humble neighborhood cafes and their newer
- manifestation, the wine bar. But among the natives, the
- statistics of decline have prompted a cry of alarm, with
- newspaper articles and even a television special deploring the
- slow extinction of le zinc. A government poll showed that 62%
- of the French feel cafes are an "indispensable" part of life.
- A festival at the Paris Videotheque inventoried 110 films
- centered on cafes.
- </p>
- <p> The closing of cafes reflects a revolution in the French
- way of life. Postwar prosperity brought refrigerators, so
- bistros no longer had a monopoly on cold drinks. Television now
- entertains people who once dropped by the local cafe to pass the
- time. Moreover, alcohol consumption has dropped a third in the
- past decade, and cheaper supermarket prices encourage people to
- do their tippling at home. Another sign of the times: le
- cocooning, the preference of a stressed-out generation to stay
- home to relax. "People used to come and tell us their little
- problems," says Pierre Domingue, owner of the Cafe de l'Arrivee
- on the Boulevard de l'Hopital. "But those glory days are over."
- </p>
- <p> Cafes are hard put to compete with the television
- advertising blitzes that promote fast-food chains and with the
- price advantages of their mass-produced products. After Shannon
- Biondi, a headstrong three-year-old and a member of what some
- French sociologists call La Generation MacDo, saw a commercial
- for "McCopters," she dragged her mother to the McDonald's across
- from the Austerlitz train station. Until 1989, the spot was
- occupied by a vast cafe, the Arc-en-Ciel. But Marie Biondi,
- Shannon's mother, does not mourn the disappearance of the
- bistro. "We feel safe here," she says. "We avoid the
- neighborhood drunk, and the toilets are clean." Nearby, medical
- student Christophe Icard, 21, converses with a companion over
- chocolate ice cream. Cafes are "expensive and old-fashioned,"
- he says.
- </p>
- <p> Demographics is another factor. In Paris rising rents are
- driving the working class to the suburbs--and long commutes
- discourage after-work aperitifs. As a result, many cafes have
- beefed up their menus and make up the lost zinc trade from
- office workers who no longer go home for lunch. In the country,
- mechanized farming has shrunk village populations, leading to
- the closing of the cafes that served them. Still, most towns
- have a place where tradition survives. In Houlgate, a small town
- on the Normandy coast, six men and a woman chatted around the
- Formica counter on a recent Saturday. "We come for the
- conviviality, not for the alcohol," said Sylvain Lecuyer, a
- 40-year-old seasonal worker. "If someone does not show up for
- two days, we phone to see if he is sick." Musing on the closing
- of several local cafes, his drinking companion, James Jamet, 70,
- reflected morosely, "It is France that is dying." But in the
- next breath, he ordered a round for everyone, and one could only
- drink to the fact that so much of that zinc-plated Gallic spirit
- yet survives.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
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