Cafe in the Crypt

I ate dinner at St. Martin's Cafe in the Crypt this past week, something which I had been intending to do for a while. It's one of those places that you are continually passing by (or at least I am), promising yourself that you will go in, and then, inevitably, not doing so. I had also wanted to go there since I had read about it.

To my surprise, St. Martin's in the Crypt is quite a contradiction of itself. You enter into a glass-and-metal tube, to decend down a flight of ultra-modern white steps, and find yourself in an all-white hall, complete with gift shop. However, upon crossing the hall, you will find yourself in a several-hundred-year-old former crypt, which now serves as a cafe. While I did not necessarily enjoy the food I ordered (I hadn't known that chicken-and-mushroom soup could be spicy, or that ginger and lemongrass sparkling water could be so .... unappetizing), the atmosphere was quite worth it. It's very quiet and quite well lit, surrounded by an old crypt (although for the faint of heart, it is good to know that there are no bodies actually down there), and although it is a bit chilly, a sweater should fix that, and I imagine it'd be great in the heat of summer. For the record, the bodies that were in the crypt were removed during the 1800's, because the damp down there was doing not-so-pleasant things to them, although, upon walking around, you will find that you are stepping on what was once a final resting place (not so final now though), complete with names, epitaphs and birth-and-death dates. Also, their toilets are quite nice, which, while it's certainly not a reason to justify coming, is a nice perk.

While I was a bit surprised by the stark contrast between the Cafe-in-the-Crypt, and the other portions of the structure, I think I will certainly come back again (and order something different).

P.S. I've neglected to mention this in my previous posts, but there is a kid in one of my classes who looks almost exactly like Duckie from Pretty in Pink, except that he's got reddish hair. But his hair is (literally) several inches higher than hair ought to be, trimmed shorter on the sides, and he's even got the fashion covered, down to the tight jeans and horrendous cardigans. I won't take a picture of him (because that would probably freak him out), and I won't mention which class he's in (you know, to protect the tacky).