I left Switzerland a passenger in a car of a Flemish acquaintance who was going home to the ‘rents for the weekend.  I pestered with questions on the mothercountry the entire trip north, which made my trip fly by.  We rolled on through the French-speaking bit of Belgium, Wallonia, and decided to get a celebratory French-fries in the town of Neufchateau.  It was a pretty enough city-center, but no restaurants/pubs/snackeries seemed to be open.  We asked a passerby on the street about the availability of French-fries in her home-town.

Us: where’s the fries?

Passerby: there’s a fritery down the street.

Us: is it open?

Passerby: I haven’t got a clue!  (”je n’en sais rien! je n’en sais rien!”)

I wonder, if we had followed up with the question, “do you live here?”, whether the passerby would continue to answer “J’en sais rien!”. 

The friterie, along with every other public building (place of employment? ha ha!) was closed. 

So, no fries in Neufchateau.