There are Santa Clauses and candles stenciled onto the windows in white. It seems like a small place, the section with the bar next to the entrance has only four tables. But to my left, unlit, is a dining room that could hold a fair number of people if it were in use.

The jukebox to my right has just sprung to life and someone is singing in Spanish. Past the jukebox is a refrigerated cabinet with fresh fruit: apples, bananas, and pineapples. In front of me two men sit on barstools and have an animated conversation; the man speaking now is using lots of hand gestures to emphasize what he is saying. To the left of the bar is a "No Fear: Dangerous Sports" pinball machine (unplugged). A woman stands behind the bar, her elbow on the counter and head propped up on her hand as she looks out the window. The wall behind the bar has been decorated with foreign currency and family photos. There's also a mystical framed image of a hand-looking thing with an eye in the middle and the word "Nadir" underneath.

The coffee was good. It came with a packet of sugar cubes. The ashtray is round, clear glass, and the table has a stoney green top with veins of orange and purple. Above the bar counter are three small souvenir posters of Guadeloupe, a beautiful-looking place. The only thing Guadeloupe and Paris have in common is that there is very little chance of a white Christmas.