1 /5
Bewertung
★
Friday 13 January 2023, 13:15, skiing between friends. We are heading to the embassy. A single couple of clients in the embassy. He looks at us getting full of compassion, as if it were our last meal before climbing on the scaffold. A silence of death reigns in the embassy. Probably the priest has just arrived for the extreme anointing. Attachment, two of the ambassadors discuss eating. I approach the counter by smiling at the welcoming ambassador. Dead time. I give a big hello and hear a whisper coming out of his mouth. I just understood, she must be misunderstanding and must certainly read on my lips. Apparently they're two having the same handicap. The ambassador crêpier, stuck to her, conscientiously fixed her two billiards, although there is nothing to cook on it. I order for three. I settle beers and cakes, which are by the way, at the same prices as pizzas. No doubt, it smells good vacation. We are already in Courchevel, but strangely there is no truffle in the pancakes. The fourth ambassador, the ambassador barmaid, hails me a "sister", three times. I'm getting up. Planted behind her zinc, she directs her chin to the counter by designating beers. Then go back to sit down. Between the look of the chief ambassador, who continues to be confused with his colleague and mine, looking for the hidden camera, our poor welcome ambassador seems to want to tell me that here, not the right to render service to the client. Arrive the moment of the tasting. Among all the crêperies in which we have eaten in the last forty years, we have the honour of awarding the prize of the worst crêpe to “the Brest Airport Embassy” , unanimous to the three members of the jury. We all laughed after the first bite. Frankly, a big thank you for this huge fight. If you don’t like pancakes, but if you want to laugh, I’ll give you this pee. Get your eyes closed. Very big experience in perspective, with or without diplomatic passport.