No Woman No Cry

Sunday nights are pretty dead, and having done my homework, I was more than happy to go with Don for one of our walks. And anyway, the catacombs had left a little wanting fresh air. lol

As it always happens, we headed to the river and saw the usual pack of people hanging out on the bridge. So we decided to grab a bottle of wine and become one with the Paris slackers. We crossed the bridge and spent a good 45 minutes looking for an open momoprix or fanprix or any prix, but no luck. I'm not sure what the french do if the have an emergency. What if they run out of toilet paper or you really, really want a rotisserie chicken at 11pm? Hey, it happens.

Then I remembered that there was a little store by Patrice's house, so we darted over and got a bottle of wine. The counter guy was nice enough to open it for us (FYI #1 the french word for "corkscrew" is "le corkscrew". FYI #2 the store had toilet paper, but no chicken.) and armed with the bottle and a pack of crackers, we worked our way back to the bridge.

By this time it was pretty full, but we found a nice spot surrounded by three different guys playing guitar. Now, for some bizarre gallic reason, everywhere there's a french guy, or gal, with a guitar, they're playing BobMarley. One of the guys was playing "Sounds of Silence", but he eventually got drowned out by the two others who were having dueling "no Woman No Cry"s.

Now, it could have been really annoying, especially since neither of the guys knew more than the chorus. But surprisingly, hearing two guys sing "no woman no cry/no woman no cry/ no woman no cry..." for an hour was really very amusing. Though that could have been because of the wine. Hmmm.