Krishna Bhavan

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"Not in stuffy Paris anymore," Robyn exclaims as we enter an unusual little find near Gare de Nord. The restaurant is tiny with only about 10 tables, often people are comunally seated. And no, you'll find no Profiteroles here. This is an Indian restaurant in the heart of Paris' ethnic mileu, where virtually everyone inside is scooping rice to their mouths with their fingertips.

We are quickly ushered to a table where we find ourselves perusing the menu with no ideas. Samosa is about the only word we recognize, but by now after nearly a month in Paris we're used to accepting our cousine as a certain type of taste-sensation fate - and I'm hoping we have good Karma.

What's more, the restaurant is not only traditional Indian but only vegetarian. Sounds like a nice break from the Viel head and the steak tartares, classical French specialties. I ask for a recomendation and the very polite (also somewhat rare in Paris) Indian waiter doesn't quite understand me. I repeat, "Re-co-men-da-cion, si vous plait." "Do you want a recomendation from me?" he answers back in perfect English. "That would be great." Turns out English is better for this Indian waiter working in Paris.

When our entrés come they are a basic bed of rice with all these little tasty vegie dishes surrounding the rice in the middle. We try a couple of things and are very pleased. My girlfriend gets comfortable and tries a large bite of the green-beans near the rice. Her face goes red and she gasps for air. I try a tiny bit of the same. Yes, it is so spicy it would put hair back on a bald man's head. Turns out those are spicy peppers not green beans.

As we eat, the Indian guys at the table we are seated at talk in Hindi. They notice how we are eating and ask if we speak English. He proceeds to tell me what each tiny dish is and how to mix them all appropriately. Before I know it we are having a delightful conversation and learning all about Indian culture. Turns out these two guys are going to be in Paris for a year working out some computer programing. They are as lost in Paris as we are. They even tell us that in other countries they felt much more comfortable with their English skills. Did you know that in India, because there are so many languages spoken, that even though the National language is Hindi, the Official language is English. What's more, classes are all taught in English - Math, Science, History - all English. In fact, the "mother tongue" is a secondary language class, like a foreign language class in the United States. I learn all about these new friends lives and how his Wife and newborn baby will be joining him in Feburary here in Paris (his wife will be having the baby sometime next month). We congradulate him and bid him and his friend a fond farewell as we leave.

I wipe my sticky hands with a napkin.

It's nice to be discoving other cultures in France than French culture. We get off early at the Bastille stop and walk home from there, stopping to get a Gelato on the way, sorry but it's a better desert than any Indian desert I've ever enjoyed. Frambroise and Lemone never tasted better, but the Krishna Bhavan at 24 Rue Cail in Paris has got to be the best Inidan food outside of Bali. And these guys would know.

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