Rue de Belleville. Not one tourist around. Except moi. A plaque in a building nearby commemorates the place where Edith Piaf was born. Those are the neighborhood's credentials.
The corner bar. The enthusiasm of the jazz/bossa combo is charming, and the singer is a sweetheart, though utterly out of tune. They play American standards with great devotion. A drunk couple dances wildly, with no sense of rhythm whatsoever, but with too much abandon. It's quite annoying. And it looks like it's gonna end badly. She crashes to the ground on cue with the end of the song. Everybody claps. A fat French guy attempts to sing Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, by Otis Redding, with no sense of shame or decorum (or melody or tune). They are clueless, but they love the music with a passion.
Apparently, some things never go out of fashion.
Weird metro station from the 30's at the Place des Fetes. No one bothers to beautify it for the working class.
Two tough little customers.
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