Last night I accompanied my host sister to see her work colleague's band play. I get kind of ick when I have to hang out with a room-full of unfamiliar faces. But I had nothing else to do, so no good excuse not to go.
I assumed this supposed cover band would play on the side while people chatted and drank 33cl beers. However, in this typical Parisian bar (read: tiny), the 12-man brass band overpowered any hopes of conversation. I never expected to hear renditions of "Toxic" and "Gangsta's Paradise" with so much heart and soul. While the audience started dancing salsa, there was a lot of emptying of spit valves on the makeshift stage. It was hot, and dancey, and fun.
The worst part of the evening was when we missed the last train home. So we had to call home and have my host dad come pick us up. It was really cold and awkward to stand by a train station for 20 minutes at 1:30 a.m.. But we eventually arrived home, safe and sound.
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