Somehow I doubt that the World Cup of Rugby is the focus of much attention in the States, but here in France you can't step out the door without being reminded that the championship is happening right in our own backyard -at the Stade de France in Saint-Denis. Case in point - the cafe across the street has a huge French flag waving in the wind and a large orange and white sign inviting "les assoiffes du rugby" to come to watch a match and (bien entendu) enjoy a few drinks. I found out, however, that much of this is false advertising because when I decided to head over there the other night the cafe was closed. This happened not once, but twice. I was extremely disappointed. Now I just tisk at the sign as I walk by. I think I'll have to find a good English pub near the center of the city instead. Or I could always go to the Hotel de Ville where there is a gigantic movie-sized screen and huge speakers set up for the other poor people who don't have cable at home and can't find a welcoming bar to hang out in. I have to admit that I have no real interest in the sport, but the guys who play it sure are hot and I'm hoping some of the guys who watch it are too.
Which reminds me...I have never seen so many kilts in my life. It seems everywhere I go in Paris I encounter yet another pack of ginger-haired and pale-legged fellows sporting kilts, jerseys and Doc Martens. And then last night thousands of them descended upon the Eiffel Tower and started an impromptu parade, bagpipes and all, that stretched all the way to the stadium.
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