I Love Paris In the Summer When It Drizzles

Later that evening, after Gina finally made it back from a marathon shopping session and we had nun-dinner, we decided to take advantage of the hot evening, and Gina and Don's last days in Paris. Hence, off we went to the bridge, this time prepared with a corkscrew, a bottle of wine, cups and a bottle of pear cider we bought at the open market.

It was a beautiful sunset, and we sat there for a while talking and playing drinking games, like "I've Never" and another game having to do with the first name of celebrities. "I've Never" didn't go over very well, since Don is religious and he really never had "had". The other game went a little faster with a sufficient amount of wine (and pear cider for me) being consumed.

All of a sudden, the wind picked up a little, it cooled down and ka-blaaam! Tunder, lightning, and a very, very sudden downpour. It didn't even politely sprinkle as a warning. So everyone on the bridge started running for cover. We were closer to the Place de L'Insitut, so that's where we headed. Along with half the bridge.

For a big beautiful building, the Institut is sadly lacking in covered areas- it's more place than building- so we had to find places between the columns that weren't already occupied. I ended up with some Russians in a little nook that smelled unfortunately like urine. And I kept laughing, which meant I kept breathing. The russians didn't seem to mind, though considering the stumbling, I think they must have been really drunk. I thought about standing in the rain- wet or nauseous, wet or nauseous- but I just ended up breathing into my shirt.

Gina and Don were a little better off, so I passed off my bag to Gina. When it finally calmed down, we made our way back to the dorm, awning by awning. It was a fun evening, and the best part was that it cooled down the evening.

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.