There is cream, or cheese, or butter on almost everything.

Some events demand attention.

So here's the scene: Lyon and Munich played a Champions League Semi-final match last week (21 Avril) in Munich, and Lyon lost 0-1. Tonight, playing on their home turf, Lyon could either win and preserve face, or lose on Lyonnaise soil and watch Munich go on to the league championship final.

Being in Lyon, I partook!

Juste a pres chez Macabeo, a few blocks away from my host family, there's a big open park, la Place Bellecour. During the days, the gravel-covered center of the place is large, heartily dry for lack shade, and usually deserted.

Tonight, though, the park swarmed with people, all gathered to watch the Lyon-Munich match broadcast on a Big Screen at the park's corner. The live match itself was happening not far away, in Lyon's sold-out Stade Gerland. Big deal, for this town. Big deal for Europe!

Thus, after a satisfying touristy meal at a 'typical' local restaurant (un 'Bouchon'), a group of classmates and I joined the crowd at Bellecour to catch what we could.

Once finally reunited with more classmates a the park 'at de spot from where dey won't mouf' (not having a cell phone abroad makes folks resourceful), our group talked and joked and practiced silly tired French and–from time to time–looked up at the screen for the score.

We marveled at the huge local crowd, which was raucous but somehow also controlled. At one point, a rumbling broke out somewhere in the audience, and rippled out to the masses. It seemed a big deal for a moment (we all craned toward an unknown source to catch the gritty), but then the dust and interest fell away as quickly. One classmate voiced all of our thoughts: 'I sort of hoped it was a fight. That there'd be some drama I could tell people about later.'

Nope. But I noticed other pleasant things.

On one fringe, a moveable cafe with an extremely efficient staff was well-prepared to feed an army with something resembling Hamburger Helper in pita, and to douse the whole crowd in fruity Heineken. In front of me shifted a sea of trendy jackets and jeans, striped shirts and scarfs and colorful sneakers.

We'd been excited, revved, well-fed and ready to cheer. We did cheer. And like the French around us, we also ignored the game and enjoyed the scene. We hung out. We planted our feet on the well-tramped gravel and surveyed, and listened to accents and felt the air get cooler. We laughed.

And then, as things pass–all at once, without any regard for the score of the game, our group dispersed.

Final score: Munich 4, Lyon 0.