Written 11:54 pm DST, Paris time

I cant leave Paris without trying their nightlife. Last Friday, we went out with some colleagues from work, Fiona, a British/Australian girl and Franck, a French guy. We went around St. Germain, Paris’ Latin Quarter. Being such a big group (there were 10 of us initially), we couldn’t go to the big clubs where a lot of dancing took place because there weren’t much space. Eventually we found a bar, seWttled in at their –1 level (below ground level, or the ‘basement’ if you prefer) and got ourselves some drinks. After one or two rounds, we decided to find another place. At the second bar we found, some people decided to go ahead and get some rest. At this point, it was 1:30 and the Metro was already closed by then. Rather than get a taxi home, I decided to stay behind and wait til the Metro reopens at, oh, around 5:30 am. I was in for the long haul, not like I ever wanted to be with the first group to leave anyway. So there I was at that second bar, thinking I shouldn’t drink too much, lest I throw up all over the place and all over Paris. Every one else was saying, if you’re going to get drunk, you might as well get drunk in Paris. I would’ve agreed, except that none of them has ever seen me drunk. They don’t know how messy it would’ve been.

So by 2 pm, the bar was closing, and we had to find another one. We found one, and again, ordered drinks (at this point, I’ve spent 12 euros for 2 drinks already…ouch!) sans alcohol for me. We had a pretty interesting conversation, comparing our cultures and some of the weird (and scary) laws in some countries. Did you know that in France, any ‘legal’ ceremony can later be contested if there was no statue of the ‘Marais’ at the official hall. Interesting isn’t it? That’s what we were talking about, up until the bar had to close by 3 am.

Our 4th bar for the night, was the loudest that night. It was an Irish bar, with dance music and TV, and a group of Welsh rugby fans wearing their dragon gear. Again, drinks for everyone, except me. I’ve had enough alcohol and if I were to retain my pride, I’d best steer clear of alcohol. This time, talk revolved around sex, men and women, and what it means to be “French” (it means to be liberal, apparently, they are the most liberal among, oh, all cultures and nationalities?).

An hour later, we were thrown out again, and this time, it was time for coffee. The guys have had enough alcohol. Franck lined up for some crepe and the four of us, we stood outside the crepe/sandwich place, talking about after-drinks food. In Manila, it was Tapsi., in England it was Kebabs and in Paris, it was crepe and sandwiches. We had around an hour left to wait for the Metro and we spent the rest of it at the café. Conversation this time was about game boards. And frankly, I didn’t know half of the games they were talking about. I suppose it was partly because I was half asleep and partly because they were American/British games which I knew nothing of. So I kept quiet most of the time and stared at the sky.

Its been a while since I’ve gone out at night and stayed out until sunrise. How the color of the sky changed from pitch black (with very few stars, if I may add) to dark blue, to light blue, to even lighter blue was an awesome experience. Life goes on. After the dark, comes the light. It gave me hope….it also gave me determination to get home without falling flat on my face from exhaustion and the need for sleep.

Needless to say, it was time to head home at 6 am. The train ride took us around an hour I think. Again, I was thankful I didn’t drink too much, otherwise, I would’ve thrown up at every Metro station.

All in all, it was a good night. Sure, I didn’t meet any cute guys, but I have new friends and I can say that yes, I’ve tried the Parisian night life.