Nothing to do

Yesterday was the museum trip and tomorrow we will spend the day at Mount Montmartre, so today was to be a down day. De Anne has a bit of a cold - no doubt from sharing germs on packed subways , buses, and trains. I went to the grocery this morning while she rested.

This afternoon she was feeling better, the sun came out, and we decided on a short stroll around the Bastille circle. Under normal conditions maybe 15 to 20 minutes. We got back to the flat three and a half hours later.

As we exited the courtyard to the street I noticed three policemen on the sidewalk. This is a bit strange on our one lane, quiet side street. At the corner were two policemen in riot gear. One was about 6'6" and the other maybe two inches shorter. Riot gear looks like a cross between a knight's armor and football pads. Continuing down the street we came across a chanting group of a couple dozen protesters. Another group of riot gear equipped police were casually studying the demonstration.

Strolling to the other side of the circle we passed the fire department set up with a tent and a police mobile command van. Also on that side was another small protest going on. 

Just to add to the confusion a stage had been set up in another quadrant of the circle and techno music at just ear-splitting levels was pounding away.

We stood on a corner and suddenly got our first clue as to the coming festivities.

Suddenly we noticed the circle - always in bumper car mode - was empty.

Six large police vans appeared and more riot gear police emerged.

Finally all was clear. It was a gay parade and the end of the parade and a party was happening on the Bastille circle. I urged De Anne across the street to the monument itself. That crossing would be suicide any other time. 

The parade reaches us.

People watching was even better than usual.

Back in the peace and quiet of our flat we had a glass of wine and some dinner. We agreed we just had to see how the evening was progressing and so ventured back out about 7:30pm. Things were not quite as attractive as earlier. The streets were trashed and so were the folks. Wine is the drink of choice on Paris streets and the amount of broken glass proved it. The Gendarmes were looking a little tired too, so we made the circuit a quick trip and retreated leaving the streets to the young Parisians.