Just before departing for the States to be with my family amidst the woods and lakes of Northern Michigan, I revisited my city on the opening day of the celebrated Festival d'Avignon. I, unfortunately, had neglected to put the chip back into my camera, so the following images are all cell phone quality. Sorry! however, the vibrancy, joy, excitement and hoopla were fully present. We wondered down the main drag to the tourist office to grab the large book of "festival-off" offerings -- always interesting, rarely expensive, and happening at all hours of the day.
A short time settled in a cafe, the book at hand to flip through, artists and hired hands putting flyers in our hands, we contemplated the evening's offerings. It was uncontested that we view the performance of my renters -- five enthusiastic parisians of all sizes and shapes commentating the festival, but what would come next? Chinese dance? comédiens déjonctés? Penis monologues? Jean Cocteau? Shakespeare in French put to music? The options were infinite.
In many ways though, going to a small theater and viewing actors on stage is great, but, watching the live theater as it unfolded in the streets and on the squares... now that was truly worth the trip.
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