Paris, Je t'aime

It's Post-Firemen's Ball. I sleep in until just after noon. Happy Bastille Day. Something about revolutions, French patriotism, picnics and fireworks. Simonne, Nico and I arrive at the Eiffel Tower around 5pm. Forget the eskies. Here, the men wheel grocery trolleys. You know the sort you see little old ladies pulling to Woolworths back in Perth. And there's a big baguette hanging out the top. When we pass by a group of policemen, they have detained the beer brought in by a bunch of youth. Not to confiscate. But because it's a hot day and they're thirsty. Toto - we're not in Oz anymore.

We find a grassy spot 50 metres from the Eiffel Tower. There's a bunch of guys playing frisbee with their shirts off nearby. Empty Haagen Dazs wrappers line the leave-strewn ground. Bottles of wine are emptied as quickly as glasses are filled. And our group of 3 eventually balloons to about 20, as does the tower of food in the centre of the picnic blanket. Sacre bleu! Eiffel Tower. Perfect weather. New faces and friends. Food and wine. Splendide! (said with a decidedly Parisienne accent).

I get to talking with two of Simonne's friends from French class. Imi is from Berlin who has one of the guys (who looks more like an uncle) giving her the "I like you eyes" (we initially thought him gay - boy, were our gaydars out!); and Astryd is from Venezuela
and likes Louis Vuitton. She got a boob job for her graduation present. And for her first car, she wants an Audi. Oh yes. She is definitely shopping-along-the-Champs-Elysees-buddy material.

We three go for a wander around. The throngs of people have multiplied like frenzied amoeba by this point. Nelly Furtado is playing a free concert here - but the stage is practically at Beauvais Airport (Australia seems closer). We settle for room with a view of a big-screen. After a wander to the opposing end of the Eiffel Tower, we find ourselves bonding over bananas and nutella, pondering anatomy (of firefighters), gawking at one of the American professors in our party who looks eerily like Greg Kinnear's doppelganger and pondering Paris as lover and loved. Je t'aime.

And then the fireworks. The music is magic - In The Mood For Love, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Amelie... a veritable smorgasbord of soundtracks for the film aficionado. I'm inspired. Again. I can't escape cinema (and so it seems, Harry Potter as well). Tonight - right here, right now - I fall in love with this city all over again. This moment is perfection. Beneath a shower of fireworks and lights, I remember why I came here.