Paris - The Mother Land

A true highlight of the past year was my first trip to Paris to see the All Blacks. A home coming of sorts for the duChat, back to the land of my pioneering fore fathers. Well we all know how good Paris is, so I’ll refrain from crapping on about its finer points! Only to say that a £2 bottle of wine actually tastes better than one would expect, and with the advent of the plastic pop top…perfect for the long trip to the Game! Yes, I may have a flashy French name but there is top notch kiwi blood flowing thru my veins! A Rachel hunter quote springs to mind…..

As luck would have it, my musical concerting partner Troy had managed to get a few tickets to the Killers at a small venue in downtown Paris. So I hit town a few days before the test on the Wednesday to hook up and see them Live! Trip there was mint on the Eurostar, now my preferred travel method…well only to France to be fair. Felt very Secret Agent like on the Train, very fast. Sorry I digress.

A few warm up drinks in the shoebox sized hotel room, we hit the gig at pace. Troy and his Wife, Catherine, and yours truly straight to the bar. Then after getting a feel for the 1000 seat room, the mosh pit! No repeats of Gun’s N Roses incidents…as far as we know. Check out the vids below. Mr Brightside and All the things that I have done. They would be one of the best bands I’ve seen all year, just awesome!

KILLERS VIDEOS

All the things that I have done

I was informed some days later that we in fact ended up at the local….how do I say…strip bar in the Moulin Rouge Area! Which I had no recollection of then, or now as I write this. I’m squarely putting the blame on the triple Tequila’s we consumed…or so I’m told! Is there anything worse that going to a strip club and not actually remembering anything of it. The Lord works in mysterious ways my friends.

So after doing a fair bit of footwork (Fancy?) getting around Paris, and basically avoiding any verbal contact with the locals (A Shock to some but much to the dismay of Mr Holt. My 3^rd form French Teacher, I actually faired rather poorly in the subject. I blame a genetic disposition to the language, figuring that’s why my ancestors left the cheese eating surrender monkeys to it).

Friday came, and with it a huge influx of Lads from England and Dublin for the big test on the Saturday night. Through some cunning planning the

majority of us were all in the same establishment, with a few others dotted around the suitably dodgy red light district of Moulin Rouge. More sex shops than the internet! (That’s what I heard anyway)

As Jimmy Barnes once belted out, Cheap Wine!! A connoisseur of fine wine would have chocked on his Merlot, for our standards revolved more around price than locale or grape variety. I believe the cheapest was something around the €1.85, that was a bargain…even for vinegar, which it had a striking similarity too. We loaded up once again in the shoebox and decided to have an impromptu gathering, as more lads floated in for the weekend. Come 10pm, Tokaroa and Manu were in full singing voice, with classics such as November Sun in Paris! The owner decided enough was enough and pulled the fuse on the room. So lights out we all hit the town! Once again memory is not quite like when I appeared on mastermind that time in 86, but needless to say the lads took full toll on the local bars! Meaning the next morning involved enough pills to keep a retirement home open.

So the big day had arrived, all quietly rearing to go for the big AB’s v Frenchies test at Stade de France! We spent most of the day trying to decide on all manner of ways to get booze into the ground, which as it turned out was more like fort knox, than a Rugby ground. This frenzy of ideas was prompted by the astounding fact that they only serve NON-Alcoholic beer inside. We learnt this from some poor sod who had, in 2004, consumed about ½ Dozen brews only to realise he was still sober…the most freighting story ever heard! Well not us, so after tucking into the Red, we all packed the drinkers best friend – Hipflask! Unfortunately a few saw fit to lighten the load on the train to the ground, and drained their hippies! As you do…. Prob for the best, because we all had to at the gate, as the security was tighter than Jeremy Cameron before payday!

Game and ground were just awesome, hard to describe…..which is what I did with my old batting partner Harbott, who after consuming his (And Paris’s) share of Scotch was unable to make out who was who from the 90 odd people running around the field! Classic Harbott. See the eyes below! Good man

We all finished up the night over running a bar back in Moulin Rouge area. Foolishly the bouncer was letting in anyone claiming to be Kiwi, so we had ownership of the place. I also unleashed my refined break dancing skills on an unsuspecting French public, and floor! Took me a week to realise why my big toe was blue? Might be time to pack the steel toes when dancing! Also only made the train by absolute minutes in morning! From waking to train was under 25min! Some effort, and thanks Steve for the Alarm in the morning. I believe some might have actually missed there’s back!

So Paris, what can I say. Only I could write a whole 2 pages on the place without mentioning the main attractions. There’s always next time…..

(Photos all stolen/borrowed from Harbott and Dalton, Cheers Fellas)