Okay. It’s been a crazy couple of days, and a lot to process. Where did we leave off? Oh yes:

Beauvais

Didn’t quite know what to expect from Beauvais. It’s a town on the outskirts of Paris, a little too far to be considered a suburb. The venue we were playing, Chaudron Baveur, was a nice clean upscale sort of pub. Looking around, I had the feeling that most of the people there weren’t really there to see a band, and that we would be playing background music. Turned out I was wrong.

The owner gave us some fantastic meals - the freshest pasta ever. Some places treat you really well, and it just puts you in a great mindset and you play that much better. Bruxelles went on first again and did their thing. Those guys are really consistent and it’s been a joy to watch them every night, plus I have had their songs stuck in my head for days straight and I don’t mind one bit.

There was a nice big crowd by the time we went on, including a few Canadians living in Europe and the UK, and the people were totally into the music (there was one guy doing odd interpretive dance on the floor - this seems to be a trend). Unfortunately, my keyboard was totally busted and wouldn’t connect to the computer at all. Thomas and Jimmy set me up with Bruxelles’ Microkorg, and before each song I did a little experimentation to find some patches that sounded close enough to the original. It worked out pretty well, and the songs still seemed to come across.

Living at Ikea

After the show, we went on a quest to find the Formule 1 hotel near Beauvais. Formule 1 was a new concept to us. It’s a sort of a discount hotel chain, each made from a cookie-cutter template, and staying there is something like a cross between an Ikea catalogue and a hostel. You get a tiny room with a shiny, brightly-coloured bunkbed and a sink, and at each end of the hallway there’s these tiny individual pre-fab washrooms and showers that make you feel a bit like you’re on a space shuttle.

Finding the F1 was already a bit of a challenge. Getting in was like a comedy routine. The hotel was behind a giant fence which didn’t appear to have an entrance, and we went around in circles trying to figure out how to get inside (in classic French driving style, Jimmy did a deliberate 360 on the highway at one point). Then we had to find and punch in a code, which didn’t work at first. But at least we felt pretty safe inside the fortress, once we eventually got through the drawbridge.

The hotel wasn’t too bad, actually rather clean and quiet, except that I got the distinct impression that those space shuttle capsules were out to get me - I’d enter the washroom and lock the door and suddenly the toilet would start flushing and not stop. I tried to take a shower in the morning and it was so scalding hot that I couldn’t get in, regardless of which way I turned the tap. Marcus’s shower was the opposite, freezing cold. Niko’s was just right… who does he think he is, Goldilocks?

Paris: Wonderful and Awful

Friday, October 15 we were due to head to Paris. The day did not get off to a good start, as we found out that our last show in Lille on Saturday was a no-go, which was bitterly disappointing as I had been looking forward to seeing another part of France and wasn’t ready to end the tour so suddenly. Also, I was going to have to deal with the busted keyboard issue and figure out what to do that night. We had trouble finding the right place to eat and get some things we needed. On the way, we heard that the protests in France about the increase of the retirement age were blocking many roads in Paris and turning into riots. Great.

By the time we got to soundcheck at L’International we were tired, hungry, and grumpy. I decided to use Bruxelles’ Microkorg again and just spend a bit of time fine-tuning the sounds, so that helped a bit. I wandered the neighbourhood trying to find wi-fi, eventually standing outside a McDonald’s to get a signal (I refuse to eat there!) We were given dinner at a couscous restaurant across the street.

(Arnaud was there in spirit… he arrived later for the show.)

Things picked up from there. We were delighted to see two people we knew from Vancouver - JB, now living in Switzerland, and Daniel, living for a while in Italy - who had both come to Paris to see us, as well as a few familiar Parisian faces from the last show. We were playing to a packed room from the start, and the crowd was fantastic - enthusiastic and attentive, and a lot of fun. We talked to them in English and in French, and the entire crowd helped me with my French, answering my questions together in chorus - should I say “nouveaux” or “nouvelles"? I even managed to joke in French, and they even laughed. We played a great set, and realized quickly that this was the best possible way to end the tour after all - playing our very best to a crowded cheering audience in Paris. It was a wonderful show.

After Bruxelles’s set (happy birthday, Jimmy!), we packed up and joined the crowd in the upstairs and downstairs of L’International, talking to people from France, Norway, Australia, the US and everywhere. It was a great celebration.

Until I happened to glance down at my purse and saw that it was wide open - and with a lurch in my stomach I realized that my wallet was gone. It was a horrible feeling, trying to explain in bad French to a stoic and disinterested bouncer that my wallet had been stolen, trying to get anyone to do anything. I found out later that a few other people had almost caught someone going after their own purses or wallets, and there seemed to be a team of men working the crowd; we even managed to narrow down who we thought it was, but nobody could prove anything and I hadn’t caught anyone in the act. We’d been so careful through the entire tour with all of our money, gear, everything, and I’d been so good about tying the zipper on my purse, but I’d let my guard down for a few minutes. I felt sick.

The bastard got my credit and bank cards, driver’s license, various other ID - and about two hundred euros from the previous days’ sales of CDs and t-shirts. That hurt a lot, because we’re an independent band, entirely self-funded, and everything we earn makes a difference. But I have to tell myself I’m lucky they didn’t get my passport, which was hidden in a separate pocket, or my iPhone, and I had some money in a separate pocket as well, so I’m okay for food and so on until we get back to Canada. No one got hurt, and I had good friends around me to help me out and calm me down. It could have been a lot worse, and I keep reminding myself of that.

Saturday was very, very low energy. It was a bit of a rough night, and we decided it was time to splurge on a hotel. There were a few parties and things we were invited to, but we’re pretty tired, and packed it in early to recover. We’ve still got Sunday in Paris, so we’ll try to see some more sights before we head back on Monday. One more blog post coming when we get back….