sun and some cheap wine

Spring has come to Paris. It is everywhere. Rollerblades have been dusted and winter rusty skaters wobble around the gobbled streets. Sleeves are rolled up, sunglasses cover faces and the bravest have put Bahamas on and won’t change out of them until next October.

Any café or bar with a terrace has customers coming from doors and windows and the air con, all hoping to get a seat where they can keep their faces in the sun.

And everybody is happy and in love.

With the sun came the first invitation for a picnic. It was taking place on the Pont des Arts. It was going to be the highlight of the week and enthusiastic emails made my inbox overflow. Despite being fully aware of the fact that the night was going to turn into absolute debauchery I dutifully directed my bike towards the bridge, half past midnight, after a night at work.

How right was I? People were very happy to say the least. But it was not the happiness that made me laugh it was the whole scene that took me down the memory lane – at least 10years. The first ones I bumped into were two guys, other in nice trousers and a collar shirt extremely proud of themselves for having snapped a half empty wine bottle from another more or less (well, extremely) drunken group.

Unfortunately the slight state of inebriation I found my friends from also meant that they had lost the last bit of sense they might have had at some stage and hence did not realise that this was not the time to show off fake Capoeira skills. Or they did, but only after a collision of someone’s nose and somebody else’s knee – a crash that obviously was by far more detrimental to the nose than the knee. Excellent.

And just like when we were teenagers, there was a curfew. But this time it was not evil and horrible parents who desperately want to ruin the night of their youngsters but the Metro or the girlfriend or boyfriend waiting at home.

When the others started to make their way to the station I ran to collect my bike and flew across the bridge to catch up with them. Well I had to watch out for the people falling over, running after each other and generally just behaving in a random manner so I really moved in a snail pace but still.

After saying good-bye at the station I put my ipod on and cycled home thought the warm night.

I love Paris during the night.

And I love being able to behave like an irresponsible teenager again, even if it just for one night in a year. 

But spring has come to Paris. And it just makes the whole world of a difference.