Narrative #1

After finding a restaurant that served huge tasty salads (just what we had been craving) Elizabeth and I wandered up a vertical stone staircase that we hoped would lead us to Sacre Coeur. Ten minutes later and completely out of breath, we were faced with sounds of laughter and talk that filled a square of restaurants and bars. We continued on towards the white dome we saw peaking over buildings in Montmartre until we reached a crowd much larger and seemingly more drunk than where we had just walked from. Bizarre light-up toys spiraled through the air and green lazer pointers shined on the massive church; a sign of desperate vendors attempting to showcase their cheap toys. We decided to take a seat on the wide steps where over 100 people we eating, drinking and talking. I overheard many conversations in various languages (French, English, German, Chinese, etc.). The sun was beginning to set so the sky was a radiant blue. A man with an out of tune acoustic gutair was quietly strumming and singing terribly. Eizabeth and I named him Fabio because of his long brown hair and bad singing voice. To everyone's joy, Fabio's singing was suddenly overpowered by two strong African-American men who began to play the guitar and sing Reggae music. We all began clapping in unison as the main singer shouted "YUAAH! RASTA MAN!" They had so much energy and happiness that radiated from their smiles and music. As Elizabeth and I were about to leave to go home, the older man asked us to stay with them for a little longer. I began speaking in French to one of the men who told me his name was Ravi. He lived in North Africa his whole life until he moved to Paris about 10 years ago. He kept telling me how refreshing it was to see Elizabeth and I smile because he feels people don't smile enough in Paris. We spent the next hour dancing to the music - I felt my heartbeat matched by the rhythm of the steel drums until we said our goodbyes and walked home.