Fondue in Paris? Pourquoi didn't anyone tell me?

Just as of recent, I've made the most wonderful discovery of fondue within Paris city limits.  Let's qualify here that I am referring to GOOD fondue with an ambiance to rival any local favorite out there.  Up in the cobblestone hills of Montmartre, la Refuge des Fromages seats you along two wooden, cafeteria-style tables next to god knows know from god knows where.  My neighbor (who I ended up spilling wine on) was switching between German, French, and English...so we just "cheered" and took a drink together.  The walls and ceiling have been written on by passer-bys.  I don't think I know what I would write to my future readers if I only had one chance.  The gruffy and slightly drunk waiters target certain dinner party members, and unfortunately it was Alex's turn.  Perhaps it was his Oxford dress-up complete with starched shirt, tie, blazer, and shined kicks.  Oh la la, as we'd assume they'd say, he was dressed to pay the bill, which is all I cared about!  The fondue itself was somewhat diluted with wine, and the wine was harder to get down because it is served in baby-bottles with nipples that have slightly larger "holes."  This is all getting very sexual...but as Katie and I say...it was a "foodgasm."  

I then was suppose to meet up with my jeune Francais for a scooter ride and un promenade...but I turned out to be a bad person this particular day.  I made my way back across all of Paris to the 14th, where I had calculated in a forty minute reprieve in my apartment (to smoke) before my date.  However, Zach called me with a voice yearning for some time with le shit.  

This is all getting a little ahead, as much else has come to happen since my last entry.  Not only had it been the night before the fondue that I was dining on the Champs-Elysees for a friend's birthday.  We headed up towards the left of the Arc de Triomphe to hit up Dupleix...a night club that calls in all kinds of people, which provides good company and good entertainment.  Katie, Maron and I decided to meet up with some of the guys at Rex Club on the Grande Boulevard.  Apparently I was in for a very sweet night.  Boys Noize, a German dj, played until the late, late hours or early, early hours (depends on your view) in a humid, laser-lit basement bar.  Hundreds of people jumped up and down, sweating happily all over each other, grinding, and screaming for the next drop in the beat...I loved it and I danced my ass off.  The music and lights seem to take over you a little and you find your heart palpitating due to the suspense of the next beat.  I did have my feet smashed around a little, but battle wounds are always worth it.

So, because it happens to be my last few weeks in Paris (that is, on my own), I have been trying to soak up everything little thing; the lights, the breeze, the smell (and often, it is unpleasant...location, location, location...), the people, the culture, the loyalty to tradition, the inherited style, the classiness, the art, the music...you can't even imagine how difficult it is to say good-bye.  Just after getting to know the temperament of this moody Paris, I am being dumped back in a country that, selon moi, doesn't have defined traditions and histories.  I think rediscovering my own culture will be a little difficult, sometimes unpleasant, and I will wish often to be back.  However I will never forget what she has to offer.