Suzanne à Grenoble

Spent the weekend in Paris. I love being able to say that--"Oh yes, just dashed off to gay Paree for a quick romp through the Tuilleries"--so nonchalantly. This time I get to add "and I spent a couple of hours at the French Open--you know, just to catch a couple of matches while the weather was pleasant."

In truth, it was a treat to get to attend a world-reknown tennis tournament for the first time in my life. We got the cheap seats, which meant we had access to every court there but the three main ones (the matches with players that you actually recognize), but we ended up finding front-row seats in a smaller court and had a ball (no pun intended). It was a mixed doubles match with three Czech players and a Spaniard (Kveta Peschke & Martin Damm vs. Frantisek Cermak and Conchita Martinez--guess which one is the Spaniard? Even harder, guess which ones are the females?).

Martinez was the only well-known player, or so I was told, as my knowledge of famous tennis players is limited to Agassi, Navratilova (who was playing there in the fancy courts), and a few other late 80's/early 90's superstars. I loved sitting so close and hearing the ever-so-charming grunts that tennis players are famous for belting out with each tough shot. The Czech woman, Kveta Peschke, made noises that sounded like little baby seals mixed with screams of death. Fabulous. Even better when she lost a shot. She would screech and stamp her feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I didn't notice the males making such expressive sounds, but those girls don't hold anything back.