by ALICE AND YANKA

In November, people are sad. If November were human, November would have the eyes of Frank from Blue Velvet, full of violence and torture. So we don't want to talk to anyone ever again and hope, hope, hope that la belle Tulipe will swallow us whole and keep us in.

Here we wait for a free performance by les Abdis. But doggone it, it's disgraceful. We'd rather have a ball of barbed wire slowly crawl down our throats. Thank God for the free cheezies. Yanka's face is painted with orange powdery streaks. She's paying homage to the DJ, a real chunk of shit. On veut s'immoler drette icitte with lighter fluid, for he piles on his vomit-inducing '80s hits one after the other, and it's just as sad as November. But hey, by 19 heures, there are no more scabs to scratch so we hail taxi man #1, who is strange and rides a long, long straight line to the restaurant where we intend to work like dogs and spit out a review. But the place is closed. The biting cold nous dévore la carcasse, so we climb into taxi man #2's grey boat-size car.

"Heu, monsieur, on sait pas où on va, là, vous connaissez un resto slave? Slovaque? Chaud? Un restaurant?" Meter running, we're almost parked on Ontario as Monsieur Lapierre rakes his brains, driving as fast as would a slimy snail with an industrial-size freezer on its back. "Heu, do you know a Spanish restaurant? Española?"

Upon hearing these words, something happens with Monsieur Lapierre's head-molecules, and without warning, tires burning as if over a gallon of bleach, we're off, les gencives retroussées dans l'fond du taxi. Sixty seconds later we come to a screeching halt and Monsieur Démoniaque Lapierre says, "Voilà. Casa Galicia!"

Who knows what time it is but c'pas important because the casa is empty. It's just us and a big tank of lobsters, des beaux lobsters à emmener en voyage, loin des Abdigradationnistes et de leur flagrante kétainerie. "Maréchal lobster, colonel lobster, Gary lobster, junkie lobster, hello!" We flash them all in the eyes with the Polaroid camera. They like it. All the tables are elaborately set for nobody. There is a lot of red. Yanka is taken by the tiny wood stage and the big, bulbous wine glasses - all empty. Qu'est-ce qu'on mange? Paella Galicia? Langoustines grillées à l'ail? Zarzuela de fruits de mer variés? Owner/Chef Oliveira? It's too late, so two soups, un verre de vino et un breadbasket. Alice, eat your soup while it's so hot it burns everything it touches. It's green, vegetable cream with tiny croutons. "Le vin, le pain, moi j'festive," squeals Yanka, eating away. Was it tasty? Yes, as tasty as our $18 bill! (Casa Galicia, 2087 St-Denis).

The next day, we're broke, tired and hungry. It's the perfect plight for a visit to Au Bon Vieux Livre, where you can read used books, hopefully buy them, and eat Tunisian. Et, la musique est à ravir. We meet Maman Tunisia, a fantastic and joyful woman who, along with her 10-year-old son Yasser, is ready to cook up a storm, even though she did not buy many groceries today, Tuesday. We'll have what's in the fridge then. Merguez couscous, Egg Brick and a salad. Na miam. Yasser, we later learn, has a cold. We eavesdropped on his telephone conversation: "Oui, j'ai encore mal à la tête, au cou, et aux deux oreilles." But for now, lucky boy, his mama is sending him to buy expensive lettuce and fresh bread to feed us. "Va mon grand! Allez!" We thumb through the dictionary and define him as gentil-debonair.

The couscous plate is a hill of semoule with carrots, chickpeas, a potato, two merguez and savoury broth. All homemade, it goes down like a charm. The brick is good in a weird way, like a fried crêpe with an egg in the middle and mashed potatoes with herbs and maybe tuna. Maybe no tuna. Yasser brings us trays and utensils, but he's a bit too cute for his age so we leave. Allez-y tous!

Firty postcards? cheapmotel@hotmail.com

Au Bon Vieux Livre
ADDRESS: 5380A Parc
PHONE: 274-7436
PRICE: Described food, espresso, mint tea: $14!
CARDS: Cash
HOURS: Seven days a week
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Down steep stairs
NON-SMOKING SECTION: Not really
BEST FEATURES: Yasser, his brother, all the books,
mint tea, heaping plates.