So you know that place where you end up on a Wednesday night when your feet are aching and you are bone tired and the last thing you feel like doing is cooking?
You know that place where even though you speak English and they speak a language of which you know only 25 words?. That place where there are only four tables and the clock on the wall is stuck in the 70's. Where the beer is a pilsner conceived in the 60's? And it's cold. And crisp as eff?
You know that place where the pizza dough is is salty and the herbs on top are fresh and the waitress smiles like she's known you forever, and there's a golden retriever outside the door, and the proprietor winks when you request "a conta" and you just know that when you need a friendly face in a big and sprawling city 10,000 km from home ...
Well ain't this just that.
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