Halloween in Paris
The French, for whatever reason, are not into Halloween. Thanksgiving I can understand ... but I question why any country would want to skip pumpkins, black cats, and ghosts. The standard joke in France is the difference between a chateau and a castle is a castle (UK terminology here) has ghosts. I suppose the French think the Brits are silly with their tales.
Before I wander off onto some long winded tangent about holidays in Europe, and how insane it seems to find out just a few days before hand that you don't have to work on Nov 1st to celebrate a holiday you have never heard of... Or you spend all day trying to phone people in Dublin only to figure out that they are on their own holiday... Or to be really effective in your job here, you just fly to other countries during the French holidays so you can always be productive (sick) .. and of course you work on your own holidays, holidays like Thanksgiving and July 4th because you don't get these off to begin with (really sick)....
Before I wander down that path, let me take you back to the park, to the path around the lake, just across from my apartment in Paris. It's dusk and we are cutting through the park to go see a friend of ours for dinner. We wander down to the lake. Two fat swans waddle across the water, out to their island. After all, they do OWN the island, allowing a few fat ducks to share it with them. They are dominant (hissing, tail-wagging); they are elegant (necks arched in perfect grace). At this late hour, almost dark, the pure white feathers make them glow in the dark.
As I peer into the sky and try to figure out if we can see the EiffelTower from the lake or not, I notice bats; small bats fluttering, swooping, swishing off the lake, snapping up dinner. I am thrilled to see the bats. They are just silent little creatures. I wonder where they live. I wonder if they live high up in the trees or just in some secret cave that maybe I will find one day. I am amazed they live inParis, that they survive the traffic, the city lights, the people, the noise, the pollution.
We wander on through the park, out to a neighborh
ood with lots of shopping areas. Because of the bats, I am now focused on this halloween theme. I can't help it I guess. I notice all the orange outfits in the windows of the clothing stores. I notice the orange leaves that clutter the streets. And I notice a little girl, blond hair and freckles, being dragged through the streets by her mother wearing a little pumpkin suit. She's all dressed up and ready to go, all ready for her pumpkin party.
I want to stop, to find out if they are Americans. They look like Americans. She smiles like an American, and with tiny white sneakers, I think SHE MUST be an American. (In this thinking, this logical process flow, I laugh at my assumptions.)
So while in France we don't officially celebrate Halloween, we have an unofficial celebration. The celebration is in the bats on the lake, the spooky chateaus (castles), and in the little girls who still wear pumpkin suits with white sneakers. But hey, don't tell the authorities. You never know in France, this might be an infringement on the culture; the authorities might try to put a stop to the whole party. And then where would be?.....
A country full of a hell of a lot of bugs!
Before I wander off onto some long winded tangent about holidays in Europe, and how insane it seems to find out just a few days before hand that you don't have to work on Nov 1st to celebrate a holiday you have never heard of... Or you spend all day trying to phone people in Dublin only to figure out that they are on their own holiday... Or to be really effective in your job here, you just fly to other countries during the French holidays so you can always be productive (sick) .. and of course you work on your own holidays, holidays like Thanksgiving and July 4th because you don't get these off to begin with (really sick)....
Before I wander down that path, let me take you back to the park, to the path around the lake, just across from my apartment in Paris. It's dusk and we are cutting through the park to go see a friend of ours for dinner. We wander down to the lake. Two fat swans waddle across the water, out to their island. After all, they do OWN the island, allowing a few fat ducks to share it with them. They are dominant (hissing, tail-wagging); they are elegant (necks arched in perfect grace). At this late hour, almost dark, the pure white feathers make them glow in the dark.
As I peer into the sky and try to figure out if we can see the EiffelTower from the lake or not, I notice bats; small bats fluttering, swooping, swishing off the lake, snapping up dinner. I am thrilled to see the bats. They are just silent little creatures. I wonder where they live. I wonder if they live high up in the trees or just in some secret cave that maybe I will find one day. I am amazed they live inParis, that they survive the traffic, the city lights, the people, the noise, the pollution.
We wander on through the park, out to a neighborh
ood with lots of shopping areas. Because of the bats, I am now focused on this halloween theme. I can't help it I guess. I notice all the orange outfits in the windows of the clothing stores. I notice the orange leaves that clutter the streets. And I notice a little girl, blond hair and freckles, being dragged through the streets by her mother wearing a little pumpkin suit. She's all dressed up and ready to go, all ready for her pumpkin party.I want to stop, to find out if they are Americans. They look like Americans. She smiles like an American, and with tiny white sneakers, I think SHE MUST be an American. (In this thinking, this logical process flow, I laugh at my assumptions.)
So while in France we don't officially celebrate Halloween, we have an unofficial celebration. The celebration is in the bats on the lake, the spooky chateaus (castles), and in the little girls who still wear pumpkin suits with white sneakers. But hey, don't tell the authorities. You never know in France, this might be an infringement on the culture; the authorities might try to put a stop to the whole party. And then where would be?.....
A country full of a hell of a lot of bugs!
