Sunday, September 16, 2007

Communist Party Parties

Some great moments at the Fête de l’Humanité:


For those who grew up reading Asterix the word 'menhir' never fails to provoke a chuckle:



This little boy was sitting on his father's shoulders clutching his racing car balloon and gggling at Iggy Pop when he came on stage and said "nous sommes les fucking Stooges". French children are definitely the bomb. Alas I have no photos of the tiny Communist children running around in their berets and Che t-shirts.





There's something rather marvellous about all of the PCF (Parti Communiste Fran
çais) tents. Each of them have a bar generally serving whatever the local liquid specialty is, a restaurant or food counter selling anything from grilled andouillette to local oysters to paella made in giant paella pans to foie gras to wild boar salami and so on through all of the regional specialties of France. It's partially this regional flavour that makes the whole affair feel so dynamic and alive but it's also the defeat of the left in the last election that seems to have shaken them all up a bit.. should be interesting to see what happens from here.

And I love this slogan:



Politics can be beautiful. I like that.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

what a collision of the aesthetic and the political, cuore mio, and a sign that communism isn't all about eastern european concrete! champagne socialism really can exist! and actually now you come to mention it: was there a champagnoise branch of the party in attendance?

Claudia said...

I didn't spot one but perhaps they were hiding behind the mountains of foie gras and oysters.. Come with me next year and we shall see?

Anonymous said...

we certainly shall. i will bring a spare liver with me.

trixie said...

Vive la révolution!

NOUS sommes les fucking stooges!

Où est mon andouillette?

A côté du marché de chardonnay, peut-être?

And isn't la tour visible from the 13ème?

grrrrros bises

Claudia said...

Not from where I live alas.

And i did do the andouillette grilleé on one of the most perfect pieces of french bread I have ever eaten, it belonged in an 18th Century farmhouse in Provence. Sausage sandwiches will never be the same.

x