Appalled by Restrictions, Visitors Take Refuge in Bistros
by Lynda Richardson
Shortly after 10 o'clock on a recent morning, a white and blue tour bus lumbered up to Caffe Lucca, a popular coffee-house in Greenwich Village, and disgorged dozens of European tourists. More than a few of them had cigarettes dangling from their lips like spare appendages.
The dimly lighted cafe beckons New Yorkers with the promise of dark espresso and deep conversation. But it is the blue-gray haze of cigarette smoke that makes these European tourists feel at home at the Caffe Lucca. The young people are smoking. The grandmothers are smoking Everybody is incessantly puffing in what seems to them, alas, the last bastion for smokers in New York City.
"The place is full of them, and they sit and puff," said Sal Moussa, the cafe owner. "The laws are different here, and they think they are stupid laws. 'Typical Americans,' they say." Anti-smoking fever has left America a bewildering place indeed for a foreigner who simply takes for granted the inalienable right to light up in public. And there is hardly anywhere more bewildering than New York, where some of the nation's toughest smoking restrictions may soon be expanded to include all restaurants and to ban cigarette advertising on billboards.
To foreigners who take refuge in the smoking zones of the city's bistros, cafes and restaurants, this anti-tobacco militancy is a peculiarly American bit of foolishness, emblematic of one or another flaw in the national character. These people are, after all, from countries like Portugal, France and Italy, where a cigarette and a cup of coffee or a glass of wine go together like peanut butter and jelly - and where a tendency to muse about national character is part of the national character.
"Europeans are very stubborn," said Ze Cardosa, a general contractor from Lisbon, tossing back his head in a swirl of smoke at Caffe Lucca. "If they are just coming here to visit, if they want to smoke, they're going to smoke no matter what, especially if they are Italians or Portuguese."
Mr Cardosa, a gaunt man in a black suit, considers himself a gentleman. But having lived in the United States for some 20 years, he said American social trends strain even his well-mannered sensibilities. He is stunned at the lengths to which Americans will go, from outright orders to vicious facial expressions, to make smokers quit. "If you're smoking, they give you a dirty look. They look at you as if you're almost a criminal," Mr Cardosa said.
To be regarded as a criminal, some would suggest, is better than as an insect. "I feel like a mosquito," said Marian Sanchez-Elia, a financial consultant from Buenos Aires, flailing his arms in imitation of the way Americans bat away his offensive tobacco fumes.
"They are completely crazy," said Mr Sanchez-Ella, as he had lunch with friends from South America the other day at Jerry's restaurant in SoHo. Mr Sanchez-Elia, wearing a black beret and leather jacket, felt immediately at home in the restaurant's smoking section, located conveniently near the bar. In other restaurants, he muttered, "You usually have to sit near the kitchen or in some back room."
In the eyes of many foreigners, this non-smoking militancy points, more than anything else, to the extremes in American society: the same countrymen who eschew smoking and exercise obsessively are also among the unhealthiest people living. "There's always a contradiction in this country, they care about the cigarettes, but they don't care if people get fat," a 23 year-old Japanese painter commented.
"America is a land of excess: people care more about everything; their opinions are so strong. They smoke and drink in Japan and they really don't care because most people are healthy. Here, they have to care more about their health because they're eating too much junk stuff."
The toughest of the European anti-smoking laws are in France. But visitors say there is little of the zealotry and Puritanism they find in America. In a country where the right to relax and smoke is considered part of the "art de vivre" - and where an estimated 40 per cent of adults and 65 per cent of those between 18 and 24 smoke - the new rules have been greeted by little more than a Gallic shrug in many cafes, bistros and brasseries.
"In the bars, it's not respected." said Philippe Rey-Gorez, a radio journalist on holiday from Paris, as he drank his morning coffee and smoked at the Cafe
Figaro in Greenwich Village. "When you go into bars to have a drink, it's impossible not to smoke. It's the place where people can meet and speak and listen to
music."
While some people must suffer, others find a way to benefit. The call for a smoke-free environment has been a boon to business at the Caffe Reggio in Greenwich Village, according to the headwaiter, Jack Williams. He informs visitors of two separate sections. "I say smoking or chain-smoking'?"
The eating salon is not required by law to have a nonsmoking section because it seats fewer than 50 people. Half of the cafe's business caters to Japanese and European tourists who "smoke like kings and queens", Mr Williams said. At times, the waiter said he is so shrouded in cigarette fog that his clothes turn a smoky gray "It's the truth; I've got clothes that are beyond black."
Vocabulary
beckon – to make a signal to someone with your hand or arm, to show that you want them to come towards you: beckon to/forward/towards; money/happiness beckons – it is so attractive that you have to do something in order to get it.
strain– to try very hard to do something using all your physical or mental strength: strain for sth; strain your ears/eyes; strain yourself; strain a friendship/relationship (=to cause problems in a friendship); strain every nerve; strain (n): be under a strain; put a strain on sb; stresses and strains(=problems and worries).
boon– something that is very useful and makes your life a lot easier; boon companion(=very close friend).