Louis Vuitton and Bastille Day

Summer seems to have truly arrived in Paris—the weather is now warm and sunny for the first time since April (literally). The Parisians seem to talk only of their August vacations (yes, they seem to go away for the entire month), and promise to call after “the rentree” in early September. But as summer has rolled in, so have a few stories from Bastille Day and Anne and Corey’s visit.

The Keiths and Louis
Anne and Corey’s visit concluded our first round of visitors. I think we’ve gotten pretty good at hosting and our guests have all been fantastic. Recent changes: Due to complaints from the peanut gallery (AKA my parents), Josh’s “Death March” of Paris has been modified and now only includes about one third the tour that Jess so graciously endured with a smile. We now have a few more dining spots that we actually know. I would say my cooking has improved but I’m still mildly sulking over the duck that didn’t quite turn out as I would have preferred over dinner with Anne and CK.

Understandably, our visitors have their own agendas, which gives Josh and me a chance to see things we might have missed on our own. In one recent case, we got an unexpected look at one of Paris’s luxury icons. In the quest for a wallet for Kristi Keith (Corey’s mom), we found ourselves accompanying Anne and CK to Louis Vuitton. Josh and I were definitely not dressed appropriately, but since it was pretty clear we weren’t the purchasers, we were mostly invisible.

The store, located prominently on the Champs Elysees, was interesting, extremely large and was so busy, they literally had bouncers at the door. The demographics were a little surprising to me—it was filled primarily with people seemingly from Asian countries. I actually would have guessed I was in Tokyo or Seoul, not France.

Josh and I were enjoying the store’s sites and commenting on next year’s fashion and I found several purses that I would never consider buying since I *know* I saw the same thing on M Street in Georgetown for $10. Anyways, just as Anne and Corey had found the wallet they wanted for Kristi, Josh’s “art” caused a bit of a scene. He reported in on his ‘trouble’ and our conversation went something like this:

Josh: “I had a bit of a run in with the security guard.”

Sara: “You did what? I told you they wouldn’t be keen about you taking pictures in here.”

Josh: “Well, the guy told me not to take the pictures so I nicely asked him to show me where this was written, where the sign was indicating that this was the case. Besides, he was kinda skinny, I could take him.”

Don’t worry, it all ended well—the wallet was procured, Josh did get a few forbidden photos and he even waved nicely to the irritated French Louis Vuitton bouncer on his way out. The guy probably knew Josh and I were just there with friends and wouldn’t be back too soon. Still, it would have been fun to go back, Pretty Woman style, dressed to the nines, carrying many shopping bags from pricey stores, and tell the guard he made a “big mistake.”

Bastille Day

Having missed the Fourth of July in Washington, normally one of my favorite holidays, we decided to vigorously participate in Bastille Day. We figured it would tell us more about the French and seemed like a good excuse for a day of excursions. We went to the parade, to a concert, saw the fireworks and ended our night at a firehouse party (which is apparently a tradition here). The weather was sunny, the Bastille Day events were great, plus we even took a walk through lots of Paris’ sites and enjoyed a nap in a park to boot.

Perhaps the most confounding part of the day for me though was the parade. It was super cool—lots of planes and helicopters and military equipment, but I couldn’t help but think as a lot of military personnel and equipment were rolling down the Champs-Elysees that it felt like recreating an invasion. I also kept thinking, “No wait, I thought only Russia and North Korea had parades like this. Do the French even care this much about the military?.” It was interesting and I wish my dad could have seen it since he would have really appreciated it.

Once again though, just as I thought I “understood” a bit more about France, it tosses me a curveball and a militaristic parade is certainly one big curveball for a seemingly anti-war (at least in recent times) country.

If France were a song, Josh and I have decided that the song that seems to best fit is “I’m Every Woman” or “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks (“I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner, I’m a saint…”).

The firehouse dance was a great way to wrap up a big day. Many firehouses across the country host events on the 13^th and 14^th and so we headed toward our local “pompiers”, which is just around the corner. We walked in, mostly expecting old time French music and gruffy French guys playing the accordion due to some of the things Josh had read, and were a bit surprised to see an outdoor dance party complete with fog machine and hundreds of people dancing to techno remixes of American 80’s music.

It was pretty wild. We were pretty tired by that point so stayed long enough for a glass of champagne (because Lord knows you wouldn’t have a party here without bubbly) and a bit of dancing, which is always fun here because while the French are quite cultured, they really are no better dancers than Josh and me.

So, this is July in Paris—all good stuff. Today, after a picnic with some friends, I learned how to play petanque—a bocci ball-esque game that is wildly popular in France. As I finish this, Josh and I just toasted over a chilly French rose (called Cote de Thongues—go figure) and I suppose life could be better, but some days, I’m simply not sure how.

sPg