Trick or Treat, Sentent Mes Pieds; A French Halloween

I'm happy to say that Halloween DOES exist in France. Throughout the day I pleasantly greeted vampires, monsters and other déguisements with a nod of recognition, satisfied that my home country's commercialism had safely made its way overseas. In my city with only two metro lines, I managed to find 3 different costume stores, not to mention the witchy and catty accessories available at the 2-euro shop, Claire's and other Americano establishments. Even the supermarkets clad cash registers and cashiers alike with orange and black balloons, plus occasional cobwebs dangling in shopping carts (or at least I presume those were purposeful embellishments...). I might even go as far as to say that the Europeans do it BETTER by casually making the Nov 1st All Saints Day a national holiday so that zombie-clad teens can party on a weekday night without any grave repercussions (muahaha). But I take that back, because they still don't sell Reese's here.

The notion of French zombies running around everywhere marks the biggest difference between

Why so SERIOUS?

Halloween here and in America (and no, they don't run around in berets!). At first I understandably assumed that every costumed-participant I passed was just a huge Simon Pegg fan, each coincidentally decked out in fake blood and gore in his honor. But on closer inspection, it appeared that I, and only I, had drawn on whiskers and a red bow without the accompanying nail pegged through my forehead. When I reached our friend's apartment with my Halloweenie treats, the party hosts gladly accepted the cookies but disconcertedly looked me up and down. They watched me remove my coat, in hopeful anticipation that  perhaps I had just been waiting for the right moment to reveal my true identity: Hello Kitty RoadKill. Oh, the disappointment.

"But you're the American here!" One of the guests reminded me. His tone, amongst the other foiled eyes, was loud and clear... we expected better.

"But, but, in America we don't have to be scary on Halloween!" I tried to explain. I couldn't accept that the perfect white eared-hat I had found was clearly dismissed.

Makes you hungry?!

"Of course you can dress scary, but you can also dress up as something clever or cute!" My explanation sounded desperate, which just made my attire even more lame. "Or as a slut!" I squealed. It seemed that disapointment had already settled in, that the crowd had moved on instead to the thankfully scary bloody extremity cookies I had made for the occasion. Thank you for saving my ass, I silently prayed before chomping up a big toe.

While I personally did not see any trick-o-treaters throughout the day, word has it that many a cute little witch and ghost had gone door to door seeking bon bons in their paniers. I also was able to find some large citrouilles, the things themselves labeled "Jack-o-Lanterns" rather than pumpkins, in order to get in a bit of carving tradition.

Of course, Europe cannot match the excessiveness of decorations or the self-induced stomachaches we always connote to this time of year in the states. I missed most the pop culture references and witty word-play costumes that friends and I would painstakingly spend weeks preparing for back home (can someone share all the Miley sitings for me?!). But even without a scary movie marathon or the excuse to wear just a bra out in public, the accompanying three day weekend left plenty of room for devilish fun that certainly included a competitive share of tricks and treats.