After we watched very small, very famous people on a red carpet very far away, the crowd dispersed. We headed back to the hotel for a pre-clubbing nap. On our way back, we literally stumbled into the path of this year’s Cannes Film Festival poster woman, Juliette Binoche, who was walking into an event. I also saw Matt Lauer, who I have a bit of a crush on. Take that, celebrity repellent!

Around 11:30 p.m., we headed out of the hotel and into… the rain. (Rain is my hair’s enemy.) We took a cab to one of the places we’d read about earlier but it was dead. The rain had slowed so we walked over to one of the beach tents that was playing great music, although from what we could see it was a lounge. When we got to the front of the line (quite quickly) the bouncer told us to wait. Then he let in a tall couple and told us it wouldn’t be possible for us to get in. We were rejected! He rejected the cute threesome behind us too. Ouch. Well, we didn’t want to go to your boring lounge anyway…

We ended up at restaurant with an amazing DJ. I was in heaven. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite conducive to dancing. And it seems that beautiful people in Cannes don’t dance. Everyone was dressed to the nines and Anjana pointed out that while we looked good, we didn’t look glamourous. I’d have to agree. My cute-as-a-button cotton dress was no match for the skin-tight sequined numbers and five-inch stillettos being paraded around the room.

In the end, we left and ended up wandering the streets of Cannes, checking out different bars but never finding the place that was right for us. Kind of a letdown.

The next day, I found a film schedule in the hotel lobby. We walked around the city, with plans to try to see Colin Firth and Ewan McGregor who were in films playing that afternoon. The problem was the guide didn’t say where the theatres were. We ate lunch at a cute little restaurant and I struck up a conversation with the man sitting next to me. He was an Italian journalist and he invited us to a festival party that evening. We exchanged numbers and he said he’d call with details later. We never found Colin or Ewan. Sigh.

We really wanted to go to the party, however my friend’s train to Paris was leaving Nice the next morning at 6 a.m. If we went, it would mean hanging around Cannes for another 7 hours only to stay for about 30 minutes in order to catch the last train back to Nice. In the end we decided it wasn’t worth it. It kind of broke my heart to decline the offer when Luka called later on though. During lunch he had mentioned that there were parties all the time so I suggested that I might come back on Saturday.

I returned to Cannes sometime after 4 p.m. on Saturday. I have to say, in terms of looks, I brought it that day. My hair was great, I was rockin’ my outfit I have and I even went a little crazy and wore mascara. If I was going to be invited to a party, I was well dressed for it. Of course, it had been a glorious sunny day when I boarded the train and it was raining torrents by the time I arrived in Cannes. My umbrella was sitting unhelpfully back here in my apartment. Grrr. I dodged the rain under various awnings and in store entrances and then eventually went into a little coffee shop for some hot chocolate. Unfortunately, no interesting people sat down next to me and offered me tickets to a film or party.

At around 6 p.m. I wandered by the Festival Palace where people were beginning to gather for the next gala. I joined them right next to the red carpet steps. It seemed almost too good to be true. I was about four people back and right at the base of the stairs where the celebrities stop. I asked people around me what movie was playing but no one seemed to know, which I thought was funny. We were all there and no one knew why. I figured it was Saturday night of the festival so it would be a major film with major stars.

It turned out to be the latest Woody Allen film — a remake, if I understood the French announcer correctly. Based on the people who walked the red carpet, it seems to be about misfits and drag queens. The only “big” names were Naomi Watts, looking lovely as always, Jean-Claude VanDamme, looking remarkably handsome, and Josh Brolin. Meh. Diane Lane (Josh’s partner) was also there, off to the side so I snapped a blurry picture of her.

As I suspected, my positioning did turn out to be too good to be true as paparazzi arrived and set up right in our line of vision. All of my pictures are atrocious, blindly taken with my arm up in the air  pointing in the general direction of the action, like everyone else’s arms around me. So, despite being about 20 feet from the action, I basically captured nothing but the general chaos of the red carpet… sans celebrities. Overall, the experience was disappointing since I’m not even a Woody Allen fan (although I did like Match Point).

Luka and I kept missing each other and I ended up catching the last train back to Nice at 10 p.m. I hope the next time I go to the festival (if there is a next time) it’s a lot more exciting.