Julie will be in Paris, France until Dec. 17.

Parisians are very private.

It’s evident everywhere, from the well-groomed denizens of the Metro who keep their noses firmly ensconced in their books without so much as a wayward glance toward the bald man in the purple dress singing and asking for money, to the waiter at the café who you practically have to grab by the collar and shake to and fro in order to get your check (and even once you get his attention, you might not receive said check for another half an hour). Parisians like to keep to themselves. There are no conversations struck up between strangers here; no “Nice weather we’re having lately,” or “Did you see that man dressed as a mime get on the train just there?” From time to time the near-absolute silence on the Metro can leave one feeling that the French are either very wary or very cold.

Or perhaps, as a fellow Northwesterner in Paris said to me as we struggled to overlook the couple mounting each other on the park bench in the Tuileries, “French people are just very good at ignoring unusual things.”

Such has been my experience thus far: Parisians are a people of quiet dignity, taking great care in their appearance and great pride in their culture, for whom “going out” consists of a few drinks with friends and certainly none of the boorish raucousness that accompanies a typical American night on the town. This idea was reinforced by the journées du patrimoine this weekend, where all museums are free and you can gain access to places such as Sarkozy’s house, which are typically closed to the public. It’s a veritable cultural bonanza.

So, imagine my surprise when, on my way to see the French Senate building (it’s in a palace!), I exit the Metro and stumble upon this:

I was floored. I had heard about the Techno Parade, but nobody seemed to be making a very big deal out of it and since I generally don’t care for techno music, I didn’t investigate further.

But this was everything I had yet to see in Paris: it was loud, uninhibited and a little bit out of control. Our trip to the Sénat postponed for the time being, we stayed on the Boulevard St. Michel for over an hour dancing, taking pictures and watching this seemingly uptight city prove me completely and utterly wrong.

Usually I feel like I stick out with my clumsy American-ness and now, well, I wasn’t breathing fire or dancing in the fountain. I realized that even in a city as cultured as Paris, the most important experiences aren’t always edifying or educational. Sometimes they’re just fun. And that’s enlightening enough.

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