Down the trail alongside the river, which sports lowhanging lamps slung from old tree branches and the occasional shop front, there's a patio entrance to a restaurant that, well - it looks like a dive. But a charming dive, and one built half into the river itself, all akimbo on poles supporting a wooden decks, lit with fairy strings.

Chatting with a local is one Remy LeBeau, leather and denim and cigarettes galore, smiling and talking in low tones to someone who was a stranger four minutes ago. He bums someone a smoke and then catches sight of the approaching duo, so he raises one hand in greeting, flashing a grin that's visible even from meters away.