It’s 3am in Paris, 6pm in Los Angeles. My body is confused and keeps going to sleep only to awaken a few hours later screaming, “What in the world are you doing in this bed? It’s time to go out for dinner!”
The wedding was truly something out of a movie script. We arrived at a Château in the countryside and I was reminded of a backdrop right out of Atonement or Pride and Prejudice. Cream and rose interspersed stones created a “home” grand enough to sleep at least fifty. Wide windows, twice the height of a man, opened themselves to sweet breezes full of French-Moroccan music that accompanied the preparations outside. Weathered busts set back into third story alcoves watched us navigate the cobblestone paths as they’ve watched visitors do for the centuries. I smiled at one with a funny, little mustache and nodded my glad acceptance. Oh yes, I’d definitely pop into this place for a party. And what a party it was! The bride shimmered and sparkled in a dress covered with crystals, like sunburst breaking through clouds onto the reflective surface of still water. Masked figures performed for us as we dined on delicacies worthy of only the French. Fireworks boomed through the night sky, illuminating the crumbling ramparts of outbuildings. We danced until the sun came up and drank wine as Bacchus intended. It was spectacular.
My favorite part was the people. Belgium, Holland, Germany, Italy, England, Brazil, Mexico, Argentina, Spain, Greece, Switzerland, India…the guests of these countries greeted us warmly in English, welcoming us to an International community of intellectuals who all seemed to share a robust enjoyment of life. We joined them as they twirled and flirted through the night, drunk on the elixir of love and life and adventure. I felt like a squirrel who had finally found a nice tree to jump up and down in for the summer. Everyone had a story. Everyone wanted to know hours. Voila! It was bon.
The other couple (if we can make it through no sleep and too much fantastic food…) Sam et Sara!