"Cannes is the only place where they can stop Tarantino at the door because he doesn't have an invitation"
Parties in Cannes are all about exclusivity. If you don't know the right people, you will never get in, or even know about those parties!
But even when you do get in, after hours of planning the right tactics to use, carefully choosing your words and making more than a few phone calls, the smile full of victory and pride all over your face slowly fades away when they deny you access to the terrace because for that you need a "special" kind of invite that you of course don't have.
Poor you, thinking you actually made it in.
The photo above was taken at the Wild Bunch party, at their rented villa overlooking the whole of Cannes. With great music, a view to die for, AND an open bar, Wild Bunch are certainly living up to their name!
Good morning ladies and gentlemen,
After recovering from my traumatising door-locking experience, I am here to deliver some good news.
No, scratch that, I am here to deliver amazing news, to say the least.
After months and months of applying to a couple of hundred internships. I got one.
Wait till you here the detailssss!
I will be working as an intern for a film production company at the....wait for it.... FESTIVAL DE CANNES!
Hell yeah, I am serious.
I am leaving on Wednesday morning and will be staying there for the whole of the eleven days.
I am not very popular now among my friends as they all hate me, but it's okay, I would've had the same reaction if it was someone else. Probably even worse.
Even my boss is amazing. 26 year old frenchie from the south.
Conclusion: you my dear friends are in for a treat, live from the very heart of the Cannes.
Enough said.
This post is not about the romantic life of Paris, or how lovely it is to walk in it's streets and drench in it's sun.
No, this post is about the real life of an Egyptian in Paris. No fashion shows, and no revolutions. Plain old real life.
This post is about one of the weirdest days of my life in Paris, and in my life in general.
I wake up in the morning, only to find that my shitty little french phone which I am using now because my dear blackberry is at the gurantee at the moment is dead, all due to the fact that my lovely baba took my charger with him to Cairo. Perfect start to the day!
Okay, I have to leave now to catch my meeting, I get out of my apartment, close the door, and voila, I am locked out. Yes, I forgot my keys in there.
Of course, I decided to go on with my day like nothing happened. I went to the nearest SFR, bought another shitty little french phone for 20 euros so I can reach anyone.
Fast forward four hours later, I am with my parent's Egyptian friend who lives here, I called hom to come and help me out with the door shitness. We call the service depannage which is responsible for helping you and bla bla bla. They came an hour late. Pas grave.
As any normal human being, we asked them how much will it cost, they said 100 euros, we said finee!
They come bla bla bla and do their thing, try the "radio" doesn't work, so they had to take the whole lock out.
After about 30 minutes of various shitnesses, it was time for me to pay.
How much? 1506,01 euros.
Yeah, I know.
Somewhere between calling the insurance company, and calling the police, I wanted to go home.
Yeah, we called the police, and they came. They were super nice and smiling. It made me feel even worse.
I am now in my living room, with an open door, waiting for the depannage people to come and put another lock on so I can safely sleep in my bed.
And this my dear friends, is the real life.
