Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

Bonjour, all! I just arrived in Paris, after a week spent in Southern France without any reliable Internet access (oh, the horror!!). The apartment we're staying in here in Paris has mercifully free wifi, so I've commandeering my fella's MacBook for a few to tell you a bit of our adventures thus far (thru a musical lens, of course).

While our travels through Nice and Avignon haven't involved much in the way of the Rock, there have been a few thoughts worth sharing…
Thought one: why oh why, when lounging on the most perfectly lovely sunny beach day in Nice, France, while being plied with frightfully over-priced beer, champagne, Badoit (fizzy water), and Evian (flat water), why would one want to be pelted with American Oldies like the Best of Pink Floyd or Genesis? (This question not actually rhetorical but based on my actually experiences of four days ago). This question is neither France- nor beach-specific, but one of my eternal frustrations while traveling: why must all places pander to aging American nostalgia?? The prescence of "Su-su-sudio" was particularly baffling here, as we were in the minority not only as Americans, but also as English speakers. Do French people really like Phil Collins? Je ne comprends pas.
Thought two: apparently, the Cote d'Azur loves the rock. On our final night in Nice, we were walking up the Promenade des Anglais (the main beachfront drag through town) when it became apparent we were closing in on a rock show in the main public park: a roaring crowd, a British accent taunting and thanking the crowd in English and some broken French (to great effect), kids dressed in black…. as we closed in, we realized it was effing Motorhead! The band sounded great (to our beachside outside-the-show-area ears) but they certainly couldn't have been more incongruous to the overall vibe of South France. 
Thought three: I might not know much about jazz, but it's killer to watch live in a French wine bar amid the ancient dye and tapestry area of Avignon, while what is apparently the entire neighborhood (including kids and dogs) smoke like fiends and drink and laugh and fight and play and flirt and you're the only two Americans but no one really cares because the language of Miles Davis is universal.
Other random thoughts: French keyboards are stupid. You have to shift for numbers, the A and the M are totally in the wrong spots, and you have to shift and do something else to make an @ symbol. Pah! French dogs are awesome. They get to go to restaurants and stuff, which rules. I think the French word for "dog" is "chien" but I am completely the stupidest human in the world about French. Public transportation like high speed trains and the Metro rule. If Seattle had those, we would conquer the world. The women who should go topless on beaches rarely seem to be the ones who do. At least at Nice, last week. I'm not saying which side of the top fence I sat upon. Medieval walled cities are fantastic. Avignon, formal Papal capitol, huge stone wall with ramparts build around the city. Bad ass. I haven't seen a Starbucks in over a week. Luckily, the French make nice cafe creme. I burn. A couple days at the beach and my skin is pink and raw, damnit.

And most of all, I miss Seattle!!! Loveyouallmeanit!!!