Now that summer is here (and the sunny, beautiful weather we had in April is finally starting to return), it seems like there's a party or festival happening every day. And it's awesome.
Exampe #1: Fete de la Music, which took place Tuesday night. Luckily I was hanging out with my friend Erin on Monday or I totally would have missed it.
Erin: So, what are you doing for tomorrow night?
Me: Well, it's a Tuesday, so probably avoiding the train strike and then going to bible study...?
When asking her why I was supposed to have plans for a random Tuesday night, she explained that Fete de la Music is this magical night that happens every June 21st in Paris where there are bands and musicians playing all over the city late into the night; go to any bar, church or street corner and you're bound to hear someone playing (whether it's any good is another story).
Being the good children we are, AH and I managed to get to bible study and Fete de la Music; we met Erin in the Latin Quarter around 11:30. Clearly Erin's done this before: when I told her we'd meet her by the Font St. Michel, she suggested we might want to be more specific. And sure enough, it was completely packed with young revelers, some of whom were splashing about drunkenly in the fountain. Erin was maybe 10 feet away and still had to call us to find out where we were.
Like the U.S., consumption of alcoholic beverages is an integral part of festivities like this. The difference in France is that there are no open container laws, so people are free to roam about willy nilly with bottles of wine (or, in one young man's case, a camel pack full of beer- I'm sure that ended well). The drink of the evening was something called Desperado, which is basically Corona with tequila mixed in. And in the spirit of "When in Rome," AH and I each purchased one to walk about with (and believe me, one was sufficient).
We heard everything from a lovely jazz quartet to a rock band of questionable talent (always a bad thing when you're upstaged by your fog machine), a lone drummer banging away on his set to a DJ playing dance music that got the whole street moving. And the whole quarter was so packed that Erin and I were able to sneak into a bar to use the bathroom ("Desperado" indeed) without the servers tracking us down and forcing us to buy a glass of wine first.
We eventually decided to hike over the Ile to the Marais to meet up with another friend of ours who was enjoying rocking out to Donna Summers (Marais=Short North). Unfortunately by the time we got there, "They turned off the bubble machines and all the gays dispersed" (the picture above is of the aftermath). So we wandered about for a while until it was suggested that we find a club and go dancing. Being that it was already 2 and AH had to work the next day, and we were in a bar that had this sign posted on the wall,
I had a feeling that it might be time to call it a night.
Now the wonderful thing about public transit is of course that A) everyone can share the joy of Corona mixed with tequila because no one will get stuck driving and B) you don't ever have to wonder where the heck you parked your car. The downside, at least in Paris, is that the trains stop running at a certain hour and you are forced to take the night bus. However, due to the Fete, AH and I discovered that not only were the trains running, but the RER B (which had been not running due to a strike on Tuesday), our most direct way home, was now running because, well, it was Wednesday morning now. AH's theory was that the train conductors knew they'd be stuck working late transporting loud, drunk people around the city so they decided to take the day off in anticipation.
Of course, we don't count ourselves in that judgment. We were sleepy drunk people who just wanted to get home to our bed and for our hearing to return. On both counts: success!
Coming Soon: Parisians Love to Party, Part 2: Pride...
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