Bonne Fête Nationale!

The weather finally cleared up for Bastille Day, the national holiday of France, making it a beautiful day for celebrating the holiday. All of Paris was out and about, filling up parks all over the city, sunbathing, snacking on bread and cheese, and drinking wine straight out of the bottle. Street bands were on every corner, serenading the jovial Parisians on their national holiday while the scent of cigarettes and fresh bread waft through the air. The sun was warm on my face as I stretched out in a chair in Jardin du Luxembourg eating a 3-Euro ice cream cone (so worth it), watching a group of people toss an American football (didn't expect to see that here!). The details were a little different, but the atmosphere was not so different from America's national holiday, the fourth of July. Parades and fireworks. Good food and family. Of course, Paris puts its own spin on it, making it a unique experience worth being a part of. At least I was glad to be a part of it anyway.

I joined the celebrating masses at Jardin du Luxembourg, sitting in a surprisingly available chair on the lawn before the massive Palace of Luxembourg. Not long after sitting down, the sound of music reached my ears, peaking my curiosity. It sounded really far away, but I could barely detect the low rumblings of a tuba. I had to investigate, so Kaylin and I gave up our precious lawn chairs in our quest for this mysterious music. We followed the faint sounds throughout the park until the sounds became louder and more distinguishable. By the time we reached the other side of the park, I could tell that the music was jazz.

A jazz band!

Eventually we came upon a crowd of people along the tall, black wrought-iron fence that surrounded the perimeter of the park. We fought our way to the front of the crowd (no easy feat) where upon closer investigation, we discovered that it was in fact a jazz band responsible for the music we'd been hearing. But this jazz band was pretty special. For starters, the trombone player was a guy in a dress and a blond wig - I think he must have lost a bet, because he wasn't even a well-dressed drag queen. There was a trumpet player, an alto-sax player, a drummer, and a guy who switched back and forth between a saxophone, a clarinet, and a megaphone. They put on an amazing show. We stayed and watched the entire show, and I threw a 2-euro coin into their suitcase, where they were collecting tips. Cheap entertainment isn't difficult to come by in Paris.

Feeling desperate for something quick and inexpensive to eat, Kaylin and I decided to try one of France's own fast food chains. It is called "Quick Burger" and it is not much different from a Burger King, except higher in quality (relatively speaking, of course). It was more difficult to order fast food in French than I had expected, mostly because their food choices had unique and original names that didn't really describe what you are actually getting. Fast food chains in America do this... for instance, what is a Whopper? If you don't know anything about Burger King, you would have no clue what a Whopper consisted of because the name offers no information about it. At least at a cafe in Paris, a ham sandwich is a ham sandwich, etc. So anyway, I didn't end up getting what I thought that I had ordered, didn't really like what I got, and felt like crap after eating it anyway. What I got was called a Fred & Omar burger. Seriously. I was just trying to order some mozzarella sticks, but apparently whatever I said sounded like "Fred & Omar burger" because that was what I got. So that was my one and only experience with French fast food and it made me feel just as crappy and ripped-off as American fast food.

Around eight o'clock we headed to the metro so we could make our way to the Eiffel Tower for the fireworks. Apparently all the other 10 million residents of Paris had the same idea because the metro was so packed, that we had to wait several trains before we could squeeze onto one. And I mean really squeeze. It was similar to my Eiffel Tower elevator experience, except there were more people, it was a lot hotter and stuffier, and the ride was much longer. Oh, and at every stop, even more people tried to squeeze on. And of course my face was pressed right up against the door as the train sped along the tracks. I was just trying not to think about the lock on that door failing.... But I was just glad that I had a door behind me instead of some pervert trying to feel me up in a crowded metro.

We finally made it to the Eiffel Tower and it was crowded everywhere. To put it in an American context, these fireworks are like New Year's Eve in Times Square, New York. There was no room to move or breathe. After being pulled through the tides of people wandering aimlessly, we finally found a spot where we could sit down at the edge of a grassy area where people were sitting and picnicking and drinking. We had to sit in the gravel, but there were some really nice Parisians sitting next to us that we talked to while we were there. They were three couples, probably in their thirties, and they were immediately friendly to us.

"Bonjour!" One of the men said to us as we sat down, in really close quarters.

"Bonjour!" We said, as crowds of people stood behind us.

We basically just complained about the crowds with them and made fun of people for being stupid. It was really nice to be able to interact with Parisians in a casual social setting. I've been able to talk to Parisians a lot since I've been here, but it has always been either in the class room or in a customer-server situation. This was the first casual situation I've encountered and it was really cool. They were funny and really nice, considering that we are foreigners and obviously don't speak French expertly. But they were patient and didn't make us feel like foreigners.

After a while we were forced to stand, due to the crowds that were closing in on us. It was hot and noisy and so many people that I literaly could not move. I was shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers on every side. But when the fireworks started, it was all worth it. The entire crowd immediately turned silent and put their full attention on the show above our heads. The smoke from the fireworks smelled like popcorn as it drifted through the city, and it was illuminated in all different colors every time new fireworks went off. There was classical music playing in the loudspeakers all over the city, perfectly accompanying the fireworks, down to every note. At the end of every set, the crowd went wild with applause and whistles, then quieted again to await the next segment. The fireworks were absolutely amazing. It was one of the best fireworks shows I've ever seen... it was so beautiful that it made me want to start singing opéra!

Some of the fireworks were low over the river and one of the French ladies and I were both too short to see them over the crowd, so I stuck my camera up over my head and snapped a picture, then she and I looked at the pictures... it worked well and we got to see a lot of them that way!

At one point, someone a few feet behind me passed out and when the security guards didn't hear her friend calling, our entire section of about twenty to thirty people started screaming "Sécurité!" until security finally heard us (which didn't take long - we were loud).

The fireworks lasted for about thirty to forty-five minutes, but it seemed like it was over too soon. The Eiffel Tower glowed behind us as the crowd started moving en masse away from the river and the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadèro. It was one of the most massive crowds I've ever witnessed. There are ten million people in this city, and it seemed like they were all there.

As we were leaving, one the the French men said to me, "C'était beau, n'est-ce pas?" Which means "That was beautiful, wasn't it?" And I answered, "Oui, c'était très beau!" Then he and his wife said au revoir! and left. Kaylin and I decided to walk home because the metro would have been impossible. People were climbing over the gates to get in because there were so many people. After an hour and a half walk home through the city, I was glad to finally be home in my bed.

Bonne Fête Nationale!