Springtime in Paris

Today was the vernal equinox, or, as I like to call it, the V.E. day. "The first day of spring" is for uneducated people.

Anyways, this is a landmark time because it brings about a phenomenon known in some places as "Springtime in Paris," so called because of the season during which it takes place and the city which is famous for it.

During this event, the city of Paris is said to be at its most beautiful, charming, romantic, and endearing, and is all around every shade of lovely. This has to do with some sort of confluence of weather, flora, and the travel agency advertisements.

As I was eager to test the validity of these claims, I started out for a day of sightseeing to celebrate V.E. day. I went to the Louvre, Notre Dame, and Canal Saint Martin, all with clear blue skies, comfortable temperatures, and a refreshing breeze. Needless to say, all theories were confirmed. I had a delightful day. As did my parents.

Which brings me slightly backwards in the past. Before it was spring, this past Thursday, my parents arrived in France to pay me a visit. This guaranteed that the weekend would be spent, thankfully, sightseeing and dining on expensive food. You see, one of the tantalizingly taunting things about Paris has been its status as one of the best places in the world to have money, yet having no real extra money to spend. This weekend brought wine, kir royal, foie gras, veal, confit de canard, creme brulee, frog's legs, lamb, and many many more delicious dishes. It also gave me an excuse to get out of the dorm and into Paris. I took in the Eiffel Tower, no short of three museums, Montmartre in beautiful weather, the opera house, and many shops and galleries. I spent roughly zero dollars on all this as well, making this one of the most successful weekends of the year.

Yet the tale of this weekend could not be complete without a recounting of a Parisian Saint Patrick's day. I'm not entirely sure, but it seems to me that the Irish presence in Paris is and has been very strong for a while, dating back to James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, and Oscar Wilde. Whatever the reason, Paris certainly has a ton of Irish bars, and me and my friends chose one, Finnegan's Wake, to begin our night at. The pints were a touch expensive, but it was refreshing to have a Guinness, and we all got buzzed while waxing envious over the large plush St Paddy's Day Guinness hats that had all been handed out already. We moved the party over a couple of blocks around 12:30, to a bar called The Wall, which I'm not sure if I have yet described.

The Wall is one of my favorite bars in Paris, for a few reasons. While the front room is cramped, there is apt seating there and in back. The decor is nice, and the crowd is certainly very college-y. The music is a huge plus, as it is a mix of American classic rock, pop, and alternative hits from the mid 60's through the late 90's. Hearing David Bowie mixed in with the Clash, Michael Jackson, the Beach Boys, and Oasis is always nice.

Yet there is one reason The Wall truly rises. The price of its cheapest beer, the Wall Lager, is a Happy Hour price throughout all hours of the nice. Three euros, believe it or not, is incredibly cheap for a pint in Paris, and unheard of after 10 pm on a weekend. It is for this reason that the bar was absolutely packed for St. paddy's. And it is for this reason that girls got drunk, got up on the bar to dance, and got sprayed by champagne.

This was a nice event, and managed to distract me from the NCAA tournament that they were showing on ESPN America for awhile.

Finally, with an increasingly disorganized and ragtag group, we made it to Le Violon Dingue, where I had one more drink, a gin and tonic I had no business ordering that late, and we took a packed night bus home. All in all, a great night. A great weekend. And a great spring to come. BARCELONA awaits me this Friday.