A Yorkshireman in London

The White Night is not a particularly adequate translation of La Nuit Blanche, but the concept, at least, is perfectly clear: an all-night party in the centre of Paris. Restauants and cafés are open until the small hours of the morning, metros and buses run all night, and a whole host of attractions open their doors in one of the most anticipated nights of the year.

Having spent most of yesterday chasing around our local quartier in a treasure hunt enforced by the languages department at the school, we decdided in the early evening to apply some of our new-found knowledge of the local area. After a spate of indecision we dined alfresco at a super local restaurant, where good food was washed down with, of course, the cheapest wine on the menu.

In France, the first of October must bring autumn, becuase I soon found myself having to don overcoat, scarf and gloves to get me through the rest of the evening. Suitably muffled up, we set out at 11:00pm on a crammed metro to the Isle de la Cité, on the river, right in the centre of the City.

What greeted us on this cold autumn night was not a few lost tourists, promenading locals and staggering post-revelers, but an atmosphere in full party swing. The streets were full of people, singing, dancing, playing a variety of musical instruments in an even bigger variety of ensembles. Notre Dame de Paris had given up its usual night-time floodlighting in favour of the outlandish projections shown in the photo. The city was still very much alive.

We battled our way through streets of open buildings, churches, museums and general revelry to find ourselves at the Centre Georges Pompidou, one of the most controversial constructions of previous decades, and the two of the longest queues I have ever seen to get into a free arts centre. Thus the surreal experience lasted, with vast proportions of the night consumed by wandering round the bustling modern art galleries to be found within, and standing on the roof looking out over Paris, its most famous monuments each picked out in lively colour against the night sky.

Eventually, exhausted, we left the centre after 3am, were confounded by the everlasting queue of people still wanting to gain entry, and braved a nightbus, which miraculously took us to within walking distance of home.

And now it is the 2nd of October, so to Helen: Bon Anniversaire.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 2nd, 2005 at 4:23 pm and is filed under Paris. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.