Compared with the magnificent Louvre Museum, Rue Montorgueil was much more down-to-earth, filled with restaurants and open-air cafés.
After buying that shabby crystal ball from the Goblin, Pomona and Severus went to the restaurant Gong Saiyi had mentioned.
Severus should have returned to London. Whether to deal with the Werewolf problem or find a British Museum scholar who understood hieroglyphics, he ought to have gone back.
Yet he remained in Paris, waiting in the tavern with her for that deliberately mysterious appraiser.
Even the common people of Paris, the world's most romantic city, were no different from ordinary people anywhere else. They still had to go to and from work, and with the terrible traffic, Parisians wasted even more time commuting than people in other cities.
Once work, travel, and sleep were taken out of the equation, the time left for meals was severely compressed. Some people chose to rent apartments in big cities, and naturally, such apartments could not compare to the luxurious flats in South Kensington.
Rue Montorgueil fell somewhere in the upper-middle range. Monet had once painted its street scene, and a copy hung on the restaurant wall. Looking out from the restaurant windows, the view of the whole street seemed little changed from over a century ago.
French commoners generally ate freshly baked bread and cereal for breakfast, finishing it on their way to work. Lunch consisted of all kinds of quick food, nothing like a proper French meal that took two or three hours and began with appetizers.
Dinner was the French main meal. Ordinary families usually made pasta or Spanish paella, or ate at affordable places downstairs from their homes.
Rue Montorgueil had a street market, but it did not look dirty or chaotic at all. After all, the street was not far from