Nuit Blanche

I'd been looking forward to last night for, oh, I don't know, let's say two years. Nuit Blanche was the single coolest experience of my year abroad at Smith, and I couldn't wait to come back and do it again, only not be lame this time and not spend the better part of two hours watching fire jugglers in front of Notre-Dame, as entertaining as that was. I got even more excited when France beat whoever they played last week and made it to the quarter finals of the rugby world cup, which, in case you didn't know (and you probably didn't because you probably live in the US, where rugby is a strange, violent sport which no one understands and everyone is reluctant to play - as they should be, because it's a strange, violent, ridiculous sport) is being held in France this year. Every week since I've been here, the city's been flooded with a different group of tourists visiting in support of their team - first it was the Scottish, then the Irish, then the English... I know there've been other countries - I noticed Spain a couple of times - but I only really paid attention to the UK and Ireland because they were so damn drunk and loud all the time. There were probably some Argentinians here, since they played at Saint-Denis, but they're much better behaved, I think. And some Bulgarians, too. But I digress.

Last night, in addition to the awesomeness that is Nuit Blanche, the quarter final was on at 9, and like every other game in the cup, it was broadcast on a huge screen in front of the Hotel de Ville. Some friends and I decided to do a pregame picnic and stay for the game - ok, so it was my idea, and I got really into it and bought facepaint and organized the whole thing - ALLEZ LES BLEUS! Anyways, the place was a fucking mob scene. Thousands of people trying to make their way to watch the game, most of them having to down beers and wine before crossing the barriers because they didn't allow glass containers. After much confusion, we finally all met up, took a squat somewhere pretty far away, scarfed down our food, and tried to watch the game. Ok, so five of us tried to watch the game, but the other three were content just sitting on the ground drinking wine and some beers some guy unloaded on us because he was going out - don't worry, they were closed, so they were not roofied. Yes, that sentence was actually uttered last night.

We couldn't see anything because of the huge crowd (see below), so we headed back to a Frenchie's place and all sat around watching the game, drinking whatever and all of what was on the table, including the bottle of absinthe from Prague. The match was SO tense! One thing I don't understand is how all the French people I talked to kept saying, "Oh, France is going to lose. No, seriously, they're going to get massacred," and yet they all - ALL - showed up at Hotel de Ville with flags and face paint! Anyways, in what was apparently a miraculous turn of events, France eventually came back from a 10-0 shamefest to a 20-18 win! Over the best team in the world!! ALLEZ LES BLEUS!!! (Sidenote: I think it's funny that their little slogan is basically the same as the Dodgers' "Go Blue".) There was a huge uproar in the surrounding buildings, kind of like when the Red Sox won the world series, only there were no cars set on fire and no one got tear gassed.

After celebrating and taking some very scandalous pirate/inflatable doll pictures, we finally set back out for the Marais and whatever was left of Nuit Blanche. I was kind of pissed that we didn't get to be there for the win and experience the absolute craziness that I'm sure ensued, but we're planning on going for the semi-final - England/France (holy crap that is going to be one awesome game/crowd, I cannot WAIT!) so that should make up for it. And I still have my face paint! But anyways... we wandered around for a while, coming across some very strange exhibits (see below), and eventually decided we needed food, so we went in search of crepes. A word of advice, my friends: when in desperate need of a crepe at 2:30 in the morning in Paris on Nuit Blanche, do not settle for the bonbons guy reheating them on the Petit Pont. Wait to get to Saint Michel where they're actually making the crepes fresh and they don't taste like cardboard.

People kind of dropped off one by one, and a friend and I walked back to my place, eventually getting to bed at around 4. So, not the literal Nuit Blanche (all-nighter) experience I was hoping for, but it was a good time nonetheless.

And then this morning I met a friend at the market down the street. People, I have never been so excited for food purchases in my life. Figs? Check. Peaches? Check. Fresh, amazing-smelling basil? Check. Garlic? Green beans? Dried fruit? CHOUCROUTE THAT I CAN JUST HEAT UP TONIGHT FOR DINNER? CHECK CHECK CHECK CHECK!! Granted, it's a little more expensive than the supermarket, but once in a while, why not? When in Rome... I mean, Paris....

Pictures:

The crowd (sorry it's blurry):


I can't even explain what this was. It's in a church, obviously, and it was really weird/trippy/creepy:


Just what I've always wanted! A giant, glowing, papier-mâché jack!