one plus one

Today was my last full day in Grenoble. What I had expected was that parting would be difficult. What I didn't take into account is that July is probably the worst month for leaving because it's the best month for being here, unless you're a die-hard ski addict.

In France, summer starts, with odd German precision, on the 21st of June. That day, the last day of school for the departing high school students, is marked with omnipresent street music all night long - Fête de la musique, as it's called. The next weeks are usually warm, sunny and full of life. People go out, enjoy dinners on terraces and beers in (or rather in front of) one of the countless bars, or simply hang out in parks. Everyone hasn't left for their summer vacations yet. That will be in August when the town is deserted with an eerie feel of emptiness. In July, things are different.

Music is always playing, either in the streets during the day or in open air venues at night. Many free concerts are offered. A cumulation of sorts is July 14, the national holiday, where everyone and their kids go to the military parade in the morning, on a hike with picnic during the day, and have nice dinner followed by fireworks at night. The day ends with free concerts and dancing all around town.

This being a blog, I wanted to talk about happened today, but I felt I needed to set the stage first. July is good, it's fun, it's relaxing, and Grenoble is enjoyable. In other words, I'm getting nostalgic even before I have left town.

This morning I went to Jack Juliard, the best pâtisserie in town and less than a minute from where I live, one last time, getting my croissant and croissant aux abricots. I can still remember the first few months when getting these two words out just never worked and I twisted my tongue trying. I always got what I wanted, and the salesperson never smiled. She hasn't smiled once to this day even though I've become way more linguistically nimble.

Later in the day, I happened by the jardin de ville where some French hip-hop soul act was trying to get the masses from their heat-induced stupor. Impossible, it was way too hot.

Even later, when it had cooled down a bit, we went for dinner at Amphitryon, a small restaurant serving, according to mouth witnesses, the best ravioli this side of the Alps. It was yummie indeed and the mint tea at the end a nice addition, though not very Italian.

By now it was dark, but I wasn't ready for bed yet. There was one more thing on my list, an event I had been looking forward to ever since I found out about it. In the city garden, an open-air screening of "One for one" was shown. I didn't know anything about the movie, except that it was made by Jean-Luc Godard, the beacon of the Nouvelle Vague. What could be more French? What could be better for the last hours of my last day in France? Can one even think about understanding the French without understanding their movies first?

The film was even more appropriate than I had thought. "One for one" is the director's cut of "Sympathy for the Devil", Godard's odd mix of a documentary on the Rolling Stones' song and politico-philosophical skits whose meaning remained hidden behind a dense smokescreen of depth and nonsense I could not penetrate. But the music was great and the sound system capable. The film was also in English with French subtitles, giving a nice transition to the next period of my life.

Tomorrow, I'm going to Germany for a wedding, and on Monday I'm off to London. My next post will probably come from across the channel.