Allez les Bleus !



The goofy author

I woke up and it was game day - kind of like a Hokies gameday, but not - and I needed to equip myself with some FFF (Fédération Française de Football) swag.  We emerged from our quiet little residential oasis on rue des Ecoles, headed in the direction of the Champs Elysées, and more specifically, the Nike Paris store.  I really wish I had some more money to throw around, because the shirts and shoes in there are awesome, and some can't be found in the States.  My new France away jersey seriously depleted my spending money for the day, but it was totally worth it.  The team was only unveiling it later that night at the game, so I was one of the first to score one.  I guess I'm kind of like a girl in that sense, I want to do 2 things with fashion choices: (1) find something that no one else has, and/or (2) get there before everyone else, so I can wear it out before it gets overplayed.  Really though, can you blame me?  Besides, I pulled off both, which is what I like to call The Double Whammy... to answer your question, yes, sometimes I'm ridiculous.

We popped in and out of a few more stores before metro'ing back to the Châtelet area.  Strolling the rest of the way back to the Latin Quarter, crossing the Seine and l'Ile de la Cité, we settled for a croque monsieur, an omelette, and a few beers at a café near the Saint Michel metro stop, where our friends met us.  Feeling recharged after an afternoon nap, we were ready for the footy match.  I donned my new jersey and we hopped on the RER to the Stade de France.  They had some great-smelling street vendors right off the train and we scooped up a few merguez and french fries - and they were delicious.  To tell you the truth, the 4 of us blended in pretty well with the rest of the French fans at the food stations, and we stuffed our faces accordingly.



Le Stade de France

The atmosphere was festive, and it was an experience to just observe the French version of our football pregames.  On our way towards the stadium, the Croatian fan section passed by us - surrounded by a SWAT team escort.  I'm not sure whether they felt that the Croatians needed to be protected or contained, but guys fully clad in riot gear and automatic rifles were somehow deemed necessary.  We found our seats after a lot more walking, and, although we were in the upper deck, we were in the very first row, which gave us perfect views of the action.  We marveled at the teams warming up, the singing of La Marseillaise (their national anthem, in which they sing about killing "infidels" and French fields being watered with their blood - look it up, I'm not lying), and the introductions of each team.  Some of the best and most famous players in the world were playing in front of us, like going to an all-star game in the U.S.



Le stade de France, in its massive splendor

The game itself was pretty entertaining but, unfortunately, ended 0-0.  There was some exciting play and a few great chances, but no dice on goals.  It was the return of Patrice Evra and Franck Ribéry to the Stade de France, and they each got healthily booed - Evra for his World Cup captaincy failure and Ribéry for his World Cup failure along with the whole had-sex-with-an-underage-prostitute-besides-the-fact-that-he's-married thing.  That usually sours public opinion about someone.  The crowd warmed back up to him once they realized that he was the best player on the field that night, and he really did have some slick moves that spiced things up (still talking about soccer here).  During halftime, some French actor bombed his act.  I think it was supposed to be funny, but it really just sucked, frankly.  In the second half, the Croatians, answering my concerns in the previous paragraph, set off a flare in their section (their section was surrounded by a chain link fence) and threw 3 smaller flares onto the field near the corner flag.  Of course, the fans booed and whistled them, but that only made them even more enthusiastic.

After the game, we somehow bypassed a lot of the crowds and got on a train decently quickly to go back into the center of Paris.  We had a few brews at a pub around the corner and I made friends with the bartender at the expense of my English-speaking amis.  As the bar was about to close down, we were still hungry and we knew what time it was - it was kebab time.  It was about 1:30 am, so there really wasn't much of a choice, but if you ever read my old blog from my time abroad in France, you know I was in love with kebabs.  I was ready for another one, as were the rest of our group.  Loaded up on tomato, lettuce, ketchup, mystery kebab meat, pita bread, and french fries, we ambled back to the apartment, tired but completely satisfied that the night had unfolded well.  Sleep felt almost poetic, with the Parisian night sky filtering into the apartment through the 2 skylights.

But that's what Paris is all about, right?  It's the feeling and vibe you get from otherwise mundane activities, stopping and thinking about how it's all just... better.  Everyone feels differently about Paris, but here's how I think about it: imagine the times when you were stressing over exams, and when you finished your last exam each year, ready to go home to the beach for summer, you walked out of the class and let out an audible sigh that spread into a smile, or maybe even a surpressed yelp of joy - a realization that better times had arrived (however temporarily).  Paris makes me constantly feel like that split second of directionless emotion, where you're ready to let loose but you haven't even thought about where and when and with whom - when you just want to hang in that balance before responsibility hits you again.  It even makes me think about and write sappy paragraphs like these!

You know what, I knew I liked this place.

La belle Ville-Lumière