Having everything closed was a new experience for Mona and me. On Sunday in Brive, there were absolutely no restaurants open for dinner in the evening. We wandered all over looking for someplace, and finally came to a little bistro that had a bunch of people standing around the bar, and little children playing in the street. THe place had a decidely rough look about it, but we gave it a try. I asked the bartender if they served food. He answered...in French, but totally different French than I had ever heard. I said "Je ne comprend pas" and he talked again. Still didn't understand. Then he went and got another guy from the corner. This fellow looked just like the criminals in those french-language movies...really swarthy, a half-drunk look, and a cigarette. But...he did manage to make us understand that they had food. In fact, they had an Indian chicken plate if we wanted it. Mona and I both ordered that. We sat outside on the street-side chairs, and watched and listened as various people came out to yell at the 2 little girls. Apparently, there was 1 mother, a couple of fathers, and unrelated people. Very entertaining. I came to the conclusion that we were in an Algerian gang's restaurant. Since nobody can contradict me, that's my story....