A Case of Severe 'Event-Fatique'

This restaurant and wine bar is in the
'island' part of the Ile-de-la-Cité.

Even Reading Invitations to Openings Wears Me Out

by Ric Erickson

Issue 2.24:- Metropole Paris - Monday, 16. June 1997:- June is a lunatic month in Paris. The whole purpose of France is either to get ready for the summer holidays, or recover from them. I don't know if it has always been like this - say - when the Romans were setting the tone 1,800 years ago, or is a fairly recent manifestation.

Every little neighborhood has its fêtes and the are even street-corner events. Schools have their annual pre-holiday galas, as do all clubs, associations and other odd groups and if there is no particular excuse at all, then there is a fireworks display.

Even in the tiny village where I hang my coat, there are too many events. What I originally thought was a one-weekend festival in nearby Marly-le-Roi for its 1,300th anniversary, has turned out to be a long-run show, now in its second month.

The weekend editions of Le Parisien routinely carry a listing of weekend events. The edition I get on Saturdays, is for the Yvelines department, and this program alone is now running to two full pages - and doesn't include all the things that are going on - listed in the larger Paris section of the same edition of the paper.

Last night's evening TV news was almost fully devoted to the most outstanding events, but that might be because the politicos are worn out after their recent efforts to get re-elected.

I don't even try to keep up with it. It is over-stimulating. If everybody was out of work, then these things could be spread out over a whole week and there might be a chance to take in two features a day - if you are a real 'events' person - but I kind of think the powers would rather that we work.

If we went out to all the events we could, then we wouldn't have time to sit at home with our feet up, watching advertising on TV. If we didn't do that, then the whole funky western world would collapse, and we wouldn't be able to afford to buy new high-tech toothbrushes or go to any events further away than walking distance.

I do that sometimes. For you, dear reader, I sometimes I walk 250 metres on a weekend to the Mairie, to see a photo expo or a raffle or a jumble sale or kids dancing in our low-end town park; take a couple of shots, catch some ambiance, and wrap up the whole excursion up in 30 minutes.

Well, em, I did that last year. This year I've got 'event-fatigue.' There are about 30 days left to go this year: get the Bastille Day out of the way, and do the last loop on the Champs-Elysées with the Tour de France - and then off with the clothes and flop in the sun for a month.

The French call it 'bronzé-idiot' but I call it common sense. There is something very soothing about watching the horizon of the Mediterranean, while it doesn't do much.

Fête de Saint-Jean

One night only: a week from Tuesday at 23:00, on the quai Saint-Bernard. This is by the Jardin des Plantes on the left bank and across the Seine from the Arsenal area on the right bank. What is it? Fireworks! Why? It's Sant-Jean's Day of course, or what's left of it.