The festivities just didn't seem quite as festive this year. Perhaps it was because the holiday fell on a Sunday this year, and it usually means a 3+ day weekend to celebrate. The dances that the fireman put on the night beforehand were packed (I had to tell a french friend please not to refer to them as "fireman's balls") and the crows and pigeons around town felt slightly ill at ease as fireworks and firecrackers were lit off all weekend.
Decided to forego the parade down the Champs-Élysées in favor for a BBQ in the suburbs. However, plans were
They do love their jazz here in France, and most artist who get very little love in the states will draw adoring crowds in Europe. Trombone Shorty was no exception. A real New Orleans style funk jazz band got everyone on their feet and dancing for hours. No matter that he ran out of material when they called him back with rabid enthusiasm for his fifth encore. The spirt was there, and he was loved. Leave me alone, I'm a throwback and I love the Jazz Music and my grandfather and I will sit around and listen to Pre-war jazz on the turntable and he tells me about the bad old days and I actually listen. This is my music.
The Parc is also a lovely place to meander around. Lots of gardens and bees and butterflies and quiet wooded paths.
They keep a small herd of Ouessant sheep to keep the lawns trimmed. They were quite warm and just sleeping in the shade. Lazy, good-for nothing lawnmowers.
When the sun started to set, we headed off to watch the fireworks. Not wanting to be elbowed to death again this year, we opted for a posh party from a hotel room with a view in Montmartre.
The show was spectacular. What a gorgeous city.
I'm so glad you had a chance to see Trombone Shorty! I saw him last summer in Prospect Park and it was a wonderful evening of boogie down booty shakin' music! What a blast!
ReplyDeleteHe's so much fun. You can't sit down when he starts playing.
Delete