05 October 2008

La Nuit Blanche, or 7 Euro Bonbons? For Real?, or Why One Might Question the Sanity of the French

Last night was Paris' annual Nuit Blanche (White Night). Like I mentioned in my last post, Nuit Blanche is an all night celebration of art, culture, music, and performance. Churches, Métro stations, gardens, museums, and parks all throughout the city hosted events from sunset to sunrise. Boy, was it interesting...


After enjoying a home-made dinner of crêpes with my host sister, Nolwenn, and two of her friends, I made my choice about where to spend the evening. Based on timing, proximity to my family's apartment, and Caroline's preferences, I decided to go to the Centre Georges Pompidou (the inside-out building, remember?). The Center would be keeping the doors to its modern art gallery open all night long. This is where things got interesting. I arrived at the center quite a bit before Caroline was to join me, so I decided not to step into the huge line for the art gallery just yet. Starting to wander around, I came across a strange, almost airstream-like trailer with a bright neon sign on top reading, "Chambre(s) d'Hôtel" [Hotel Room(s)]. Nothing was really going on around it, so I didn't think much of it and continued on. But this unassuming little trailer will make another appearance in this post...


I then found my way to Église St. Merry, a church right next door to the Centre Pompidou. The church had been decked out for Nuit Blanche with lofty works of art, eery lighting, and various performers. When I first walked in, a dance group was just finishing up. I have to admit, it was a bit strange seeing hip hop dance in a centuries-old church. Up next, an awesome poet/actor/dancer(?) stepped into the spotlight. I'm not sure what to call what he did, but it might be similar to a French version of slam poetry. Anyway, he concluded his set with this soul-shaking quote:


-- "Moi, je suis Henri Marche. Et vous -- vous aussi -- Vous êtes Henri Marche..."

-- "Me, I'm Henri Marche. And you -- you as well -- You are Henri Marche..."


How true, how true... After this revelation, I did some more wandering. As fate would have it, I found myself back at the trailer. This time, I was in for a treat. Whatever company that was responsible for the presence of the trailer had begun their show for the evening. A large window on the side of the trailer that had once been obscured by a white curtain now revealed 2 women and a man inside, moving and dancing about with blank expressions on their faces. This, ladies and gentlemen, was my first experience with "performance art." From what I gathered from the abstract acting and trance-like music, the piece was about some sort of prostitution ring, or maybe domestic violence witnessed by a hotel cleaning lady, or maybe murder as a result of a love triangle? Maybe? It's hard to say. All I really learned was that the French might be nuts. Here's a short clip of the performance. I'll let you decide what it's about:



Just about the time this finished up, Caroline called to let me know she had arrived. I found her in the swaying crowd of drunk Frenchmen, and we headed to the line for the modern art gallery. Just then, a man from the center came out and told us the doors would be locked at 1 am. It was about 12:55. So we wisely chose to cut our losses. We explored the area a bit more, then I took Caroline back over to Église St. Merry, where we watched another dance crew. Yeah, more hip hop in the church. But they were good, so it was worth it.

Deciding it was getting too dangerously close to the time when the Métro would stop running, Caroline and I wound our way back to the station. Along the way, I found a huge stand selling amazing-looking candy. It was just too much to resist. I asked the worker how much the candy cost. "2,90 € for 100 g." Contemplating what 100 g of candy might feel like, I filled my bag with delicious sweets. Satisfied, I handed the bag over for weighing, praying that I hadn't stuffed it with more than 5 or 6 euro's worth. Well, it turned out to be 7 euro and some change. I wasn't too terribly upset by the price, so we continued on our way to the station. While we waited for our train, we decided to see if the candy was worth it. Alas, the bonbons were sub-par. Naturally. I got home about 45 minutes later, clutching the bag of sweets and feeling ready for bed.

I now leave you with a treat of your own: Love It or Leave It.

Reason to Love It: The architecture. The buildings here are absolutely beautiful. And old, man. It's hard to imagine that most of the churches in this city have been around longer than the United States...

Reason to Leave It: No Chicago style deep dish pizza in Paris. Nuf said.

Happy Travels
-- Cody

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ok, the "hotel room" trailer story didn't end up like I first thought it would, so that was a relief. Miss you bunches. xo