Journal Entry...

Sitting at the fountain by the carousel beside Croisette Corner, these are my observations.
From May 18, 1:45 p.m.

1. There are naked breasts staring at me from across the street – an ad for the heavily advertised short film “Cashback” – on the magazine cover, the title covered the breasts – on the street, they are bare for everyone to see. That seems odd to me that public nudity is okay. Not because I’m a prude, but nude bodies seem to be private things, shared only with those you choose to share them with – perhaps I am an American prude after all.

2. Thought I have my iPod earbuds in (listening to Itzakh Perlman play movie themes of course!), outside noise comes in – the oh-so-French music of the carousel, bits of converstaion in languages I don’t understand, the click-clack of heels and the scrape of tennis shoes.

3. My phone buzzes – it is the buzz I’ve come to recognize as the indicator for a text message – so much cheaper than actually calling. A new friend wants to meet for lunch.

4. I stare at badges, not faces (just as our program coordinator Allison said I would) – I can tell by the lanyard who has a better badge than I. I struggle to read the words “Presse” (Press) or “Marche du Film” (Film Market). I still don’t quite understand the hierarchy, but I’m learning.

5. The sun is heating up on my back. It was cool enough for my sweatshirt this morning, but now it’s warm. I’m hoping I don’t get tan lines – the next dress I’m planning to wear is strapless.

6. A new sound has entered my environment. Apparently, you can rent remote-controlled boats to putter around the fountain. A little boy has rented one and I hear it’s motor. It’s annoying, but not nearly on the same level as the scooters which roar through JLP at all hours of the day and night.

7. The greenery is amazing and lush. Palm trees, potted plants, bright green grass. I know much of it is brought in just for the festival (I saw the trucks and workers putting them in place earlier this week), but it still has the desired effect. It is beautiful.

8. Despite what some may say about the Festival itself, this area does not discriminate against age, race, language, nationality, or gender. I have seen and heard everything – tiny children, elderly adults, French, Spanish, Asian, black, white, American, English, men, women. It’s only a small space, but it is perhaps the most multi-cultural space I’ve ever inhabited.

9. A scooter roars through and I’m reminded of my hatred for them.

10. The carousel has stopped. People are leaving, having had their lunch and siesta. I have just under an hour before my next film – actually, my first of the day. I shall read some more in my new Donald Miller book, and observe some more of my surroundings. But this shall be the last observation put to paper.