I have much to tell about my recent travels, but I think we’ll start with the one that was the most noteworthy: New Year’s Eve in Paris.
I met Fabulous Cousin in Paris for a week of eating, drinking, talking, picture taking and more talking. It was decadence personified. More on this later, but for now we’re going to talk about the SUPREME DISAPPOINTMENT that was New Year’s Eve.
I’d spent New Year’s Eve 2000 in Paris, which was understandably spectacular. And in the ensuing years, I always looked for images of the Eiffel Tower on this special night, all exploding light and elegance. So, when Fabulous Cousin chose Paris for New Year’s, I immediately started chatting up the event that would be midnight in the City of Lights.
We headed to the bridge off the Place de la Concorde and got a great spot for viewing. The tower looked like this from 11PM to midnight:
At midnight, it started sparkling, like a million diamonds. Everyone began cheering:
And a few minutes later, it went back to its normal orange light:
Everyone just kind of looked at each other, shrugged, then walked over to the Champs Elysees and stood around, drinking Champagne and chatting and taking pictures of drunk people driving around the Place de la Concorde screaming BONNE ANNEE as police in riot gear tried very hard not to pay attention.
The highlight, by far, were the Arab-run grease trucks serving up delicious sammies and bottles of Champagne and blasting dance music. Also of note, if absurdly expensive, was the pecan pie I had and the chocolate crepe my cousin had at our café pit-stop on the way home.
There were no fireworks.
WHY WHERE THERE NO FIREWORKS? France, why do you continue to disappoint me so? And Paris, I am particularly upset with you. I expected more of you.