I didn’t want to leave France. None of us did.

It didn’t start that way though. We arrived to chaos. The car at Charles de Gaulle was a no show and Tim was already in Rennes, three hours south. My manly response? Hyperventilate. I had to perform in six hours. I was stranded. In a full-on run, we caught a TGV train for Rennes…the last one that could have gotten us there in time.

We left Rennes in Tim’s clown car stuffed with four people, gear and a passive-agressive GPS. We were staying in Saint-Brieuc…where, predictably, the entire town was cordoned off. This massive marathon had every street blocked and our hotel was right in the middle of it. Dodging runners, we dragged our suitcases and guitars across the race course. It was incredibly hot.

We found a little bar, had a drink, went to the beach. Everything slowed. For once, we had an hour to burn. We drove to Yffiniac for a private show.

Finally got to meet the photographer Christophe Garnier. Such a great guy. He and his family and friends were incredible hosts as well. There were tables full of food and beer and wine and desserts. We discovered how little French we knew. We played, shot movies with Christophe on bass, drank and left when it was cold again. Christophe’s blog has photos and video.

The next night we were back in Rennes. Bar’Hic. First time we would ever perform the new material twice in a night. During the breaks, we tried Lul’s collection of alcohols. He’s the owner, a delightful guy and a bit of a local legend. I even managed to score one of his CDs off him. I’ll post a track from it soon. We got to the hotel at 4AM. Yann Provost caught some great images.

I will not talk about the drive to Paris.

I will not discuss the six hour traffic jam nor the toll machines that do not accept parking receipts.

Paris meant a few days off before the next show. Bought a weekly Metro pass and we devoured the city, intentionally getting lost, each day with a simple goal. I also got to catch up on one of my favorite travel pastimes: getting swept up in protests. This one was for French pensioners.

The Thursday show was at Espace B in Paris. It’s tucked away in the 19th arrondissement. The place was full. Everyone seemed concerned for the state of my mental health and appreciative when I left the stage in a swirl. We drank until 3AM at the hotel.

I sent an email. I wanted to play more shows.

If you came out, a huge thank you. If you were one of the ones who made it happen–Margaret, Sarah, Christophe, Yann, Olivier, Lul, Nicolas–I’ll never be able to thank you with words.

Troy