Summer has arrived. One day it was Marchish, the next - July. Phoom. It's in the low 80s, sunny, and sticky.
So yesterday was Bastille Day, and the day before that Hannah came to visit. We had a ball - literally. On the night of the 13th, dozens of Firemen's Balls are held all over France. Sponsored and thrown by local fire departments, these balls are a way to kick off Bastille Day celebrations. We had planned to go to one in the VIth, which was supposed to be very Ibiza, but were so full after dinner (Chez Omar's, the best Moroccan ever) that we couldn't deal with shlepping across the river. On the way to the metro, though, we passed another ball, and got swept into the maddening crowd. It was so much fun! Not wild and crazy like the Ibiza one would have been; this one was very family oriented. There were kids everywhere and confetti and balloons
and a passable cover band playing everything from Elvis to random French music (okay, probably not random to the French people) to something nearly like American swing. Here are some photos from the frolic:
On Saturday, Bastille Day, we hopped over to the Champs Elysee to see the parade, but realized once we got there that we were several hours late. No worries; we walked up the avenue, stopped at Ladurée for some yummy macaroons (the rose is my absolute favorite), and then walked to the Seine to catch the bus to the Musée d'Orsay. Hannah wanted to see some of the permanent collections there, and I wanted to see the Vollard show, so we split off for an hour and a half. (The show, by the way, Moo, was fantastic. I like art.) It didn't take me that long to go through the show (duh), so I wandered around the Impressionism collection and renewed my love affair with Monet. The museum itself is magnificent; I had forgotten how impressive the architecture is.
After our cultural jaunt, we headed home to hydrate, read, and nap. We meandered out in the early evening to pick up picnic supplies (bread, cheese, cold cuts, apples, cookies, and wine) and then planted ourselves on the Champs de Mars to watch the fireworks. It was complete bedlam out there. First of all, every single tourist in Paris must have been there. Second, one of the local radio stations was giving a concert, so it was packed with people for that. We found ourselves a spot on the side, on grass and with a view of the top of the tower. Even though we were behind a bank of trees, we assumed we'd be able to see the fireworks. WRONG.
When the fireworks started, we - and the hundreds of others who couldn't see - scrambled to the main lawn. They had arranged a whole score to accompany the show; they played everything from the Star Wars and Harry Potter themes to Moulin Rouge and Edith Piaf. I took a [sideways] video of a bit of it. (My technological savvy amazes me.)
It took over twice as much time to get home than usual: metro stations all around the Eiffel Tower as well as several bridges were closed to control traffic. As Hannah observed, sometimes we couldn't even make decisions about where we were going; we were just swept up in a "wave of humanity." Even though one heard English just as often as French - vive la France!
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