I adore Paris. It's simply absurd the amount of love I have for the city, its people, places, language.
That being said, returning to Paris this weekend [thanks to sir Guillo] was wonderful. I got the chance to see great friends again, make amends with those who shared a month of miscommunication (and therefore misunderstanding) with me and spend time throwing a real party, as compared to the stereotypically accurate American drunkards stumbling, mumbling and yelling everywhere in the street.
Friday night, cigar and wine party at Florian's. It expanded slightly, naturally, but was a nice relaxed party that served as a wonderful teaser for Saturday night.
Which brings us to the long awaited party at Merry's. Almost an entire day spent preparing and party-proofing the house paid off, as French people tend to be pretty destructive with their mad dance moves and mock-rave circles to classic American music like Woo Hoo by Blur.
Yeahhhh right guys. Get your own crappy music, don't make me suffer through it twice.
Before the guests arrived, I succeeded in creating two French desserts [with a little touch of my American roots, granted] - apple tart and chocolate fondant. If that word exists in English. They were wonderful and I was excited to learn a little piece of the French culture that had remained untouched by me for far too long.
Onto the party. Many refreshments - snacks and drinks of all assortments. Gobs of people, coming in and leaving on a regular basis. Loud music and Frenchies pretending to know the already awful lyrics. Le bordel, partout.
Old friends, new friends, good music, bad, too much to drink, not enough dancing. Costumes, shared chucks [on two accounts], sunglasses, jean jackets. Disco ball shirts, blue wigs, Batman, pirates, William Wallace giving and getting bisous, marking everyone and everything with a slight smear of blue paint. All in all, a wonderful night.
The worst thing? Leaving. Besides leaving, having to do it without Merry there. Which sounds strange, and I'm glad Guillo accompanied me to the station, but it felt super wrong.
You have to understand that I say this because I've known Merry the longest of any French person and he's always been at the station, even if it was just in the nick of time - not being used to his absence, I was naturally a little perturbed. That isn't to say though, that I wasn't grateful for Guillaume's being there. That was nice too.
I guess that just means I have to go back so we can redo, which is quite alright with me.
Well kids, this is where I leave you for today. Time for me to work on the steadily mounting pile of French homework that I've managed to acquire during the first half of my semester here [which, by the way, is over]. Angers, you're alright. As long as your citizens don't hit me when I ride my bike. Please and thank you.