The following is something of a travelogue for France: notes taken throughout each of the last six extraordinary days.

SUNDAY 1/31: Arrived in Clermont-Ferrand after 22 hours of travel, somewhat delirious. Found the hotel okay, though parking is a bitch. Headed for the festival headquarters and was very struck by how HUGE this festival is. This very substantial (and not uncharming) mid-sized city is abuzz: huge signs everywhere (sides of buildings, street corners, shop windows, flags…) and several prominent venues (movie theatres) in town devoted to the festival overflow.

Dozens of the city's businesses support the festival by donating services and the "scrip" the festival gives its guests can be used at all the participating bars and restaurants, as one likes. There must be a few hundred of the most friendly and attractive French twenty-somethings aflutter, bending over backward to accommodate and offer assistance. And the audience is expected to exceed 150,000.

Jared and one of the festival directors, Roger Gonin

Found Harold and Megan, the Forefront Films guys (our sales agents), who've already been approached by a few European TV buyers with interest in CREAMPUFF. We three take a break and splurge (with our new scrip coupons) on a rich and alcoholic meal at a lovely restaurant and I get the dish on the festival and its participants. Finally, to bed at 2am. The room's ancient and charming, but miniscule and the creaky radiator is clearly not an innovation in comfort. Try to organize myself for the week's work and fun and am overwhelmed by all the festival information - most of it in French. Find that two suitcases and two feet cover just about all the available floorspace and finally just collapse, fully dressed in the distinctly lumpy bed.

MONDAY, 2/1 First films (uneven, some really astounding, though) and first contact with CREAMPUFF feedback. Festival organizers couldn't be warmer or friendlier. Festival programmers and buyers who saw the earlier screening offer high praise and some come to H&M (Harold & Megan) to borrow a VHS to screen the thing a second time. The Italians and Spanish are very enthusiastic and I am asked to do three unexpected interviews for Italian media (gives me a chance to talk about Fellini and the influence of LA STRADA on CREAMPUFF. The TV interview is wacky and the director encourages me to say "Fuck" as much as possible so she can "bleep" me.

I find out that the translation of the title that the festival has chosen is PATAPOUF, which means "big, bumbling bufoonish guy" and doesn't nearly capture the irony or the gay or the pastry angle of CREAMPUFF (although the sound of it sounds right…). Ah, well…

Day ends with a smoky dinner party with H&M and several filmmakers at a popular creperie, called 1513 (from which it dates, I understand). Turns out Lisset, an American/Peruvian filmmaker staying across the hall from me, has a film going to the festival in Bangladesh, like CREAMPUFF, but she isn't making the trek. She demands, and I promise, a report from Dhaka.

TUESDAY, 2/2 Awake to a magical flurry of chunky, pristine snowflakes; I think: "little creampuffs sprinkling all over the city…"

Work today starts with an interview for an Italian newspaper, then a program of films in the main hall. It is a massive (1400 seats), magnificent theatre. CREAMPUFF will screen here twice and the performances are all sold out. For virtually every show in the festival there is an "audience standby" list. I find this absolutely amazing.

I'm on my feet a lot today, walking all over and grabbing a hot dog-stuffed baggette for lunch on-the-run. I sneak into the back of a CREAMPUFF screening and get the sense that the language is shocking, but that the film is quite well received. I have a solitary dinner of saumon "au lard," at a place called Saumon Roi, then catch a program of French shorts that all utilize still photos, throughout. Quite interesting, but I resolve not to sit through another program which is neither dubbed, nor subtitled in English. Way too difficult to follow.

WEDNESDAY 2/3 Slept until noon. Guess the jet lag finally kicked-in. Found Megan, who had news of more sales interest. Some strong feelings amongst the Canal+ buyers about PATAPOUF: some feel it's strong and great, others that it's too long and controversial. Momentum with the press and other festivals will help a lot here. Asked by three French film students to do a video interview, which was fun; they were so enthusiastic about CREAMPUFF - said it's the best film they've seen at the festival (they want to know what's in the envelope!). I catch a few more films, some quite good. We're fortunate to be included in a good (and popular) program that screens at good times in the better venues.

Still really struck by how warm and solicitous everyone is; it's really such a pleasure to be here. And the old section of town (which I strolled for an hour and a half today) is particularly charming. Very quaint and unspoiled, winding, hilly streets, magnificent old black Cathedral (constructed from volcanic rock - looks quite gothic) and a lovely mix of old and young, rich and working class and a dizzying assortment of ethnicities, as well. Noticed a huge number of ethnic restaurants, food shops, chatchke stores scattered around the old town. Chinese, Egyptian, Tunisian, Viet Namese, Italian, Indian and, of course, a McDonalds.

Dinner with H&M to discuss sales strategy and speculation and then a cigar with Harold as we stroll to another late-night party at 1513 (which is becoming known as "The Cave," due to its labyrinthine, craggly stone chambers through which these parties meander).

THURSDAY 2/4 More interesting comments from festival-goers who recognize me in the halls and on the streets - a Palestinian journalist, a Greek festival director, an Australian producer a Senegalese director, a Spanish television buyer and a few French actors and actresses. All so friendly and enthusiastic to speak about PATAPOUF and how it moved them ("My angleesh eez no good but I most tell to you…"). Apparently it's a film people are buzzing about and Nathalie, a sharp and intense journalist who writes for the Clermont-Ferrand daily comes up to me to confide that it's "one of the press favorites" and she will push it for an award. Really amazing feeling to experience it reaching so many people; it seems to have so much resonance across cultures. More questions about the nature of Jack's pain and, of course, about the envelope. Lots of warm smiles as people pass by. Saw a few more brilliant short films and a lot of good and interesting ones. Dinner with the Italian journalist, Gioia and a few other directors, including Dominick (who is Swiss) and Carlos (who is Mexican), then another wild party at The Cave. Nathalie is there and, in this informal setting, she loosens up and talks about how much CREAMPUFF moved her. She is very perceptive and gets so much of what we had intended. She relates it to some of her own experiences. She's campaigning for a press award for the film. Her review (an important one), which will come out tomorrow, ends with, "Incontestably, the film to see." More French filmmakers and actors being very kind. Directors from Congo and Egypt stop by to shake hands and congratulate me. Find myself closing the joint along with a few French students and some of the hardier of the American contingent (carloads of guys from NYU and USC seem to arrive daily now), at about 3:15.

FRIDAY 2/5 The days and nights are going by so fast now. Hard to sleep at night and harder to cram stuff into the day; I'm getting to a quarter of the things I plan in the morning. But I'm flowing with the days and having a blast getting to know strangers from all over the world bonded simply by an appreciation of short films. Breakfast with the directors of an hysterical film from New Zealand called WILLY-NILLY (Mike Smith) and a gritty piece from Australia called DENIAL (Phillip Crawford). Later joined by the guys from Denmark and Senegal. I'm trying to cram in the films of the directors I'm befriending, but it's impossible to get to everything. Getting stopped in the streets and halls is increasing and diversifying (if that's possible) and it's just fucking thrilling. More journalists offer praise and suggest the buzz is picking up for the press prize. Australian Film Commission leaves me a note about how much they love it and want to include it in a gay & lesbian TV program they're compiling for broadcast in Australia.

Some attractive Korean women approach us about press and a Korean festival; they are intensely excited about the film (interesting who it appeals to most).

Megan says the Canal+ group is interested but still hesitant to commit due to the fact its on the long side of shorts (27 minutes); H&M feel an award or nomination will really help the sales situation. Meet Annie, a French actress who teaches clowning courses (which she pronounces "cloning kooses" -- takes me a while to understand what she means). Annie is very sweet and spirited, has an infectious bawdy laugh and named her daughter after Guilietta Massina, so we get along well. We join Mike Mayer (with whom I lunched at the one restaurant in town that serves a late lunch) for drinks at the "Directors' Reception," along with Michalangelo, an NYU grad with a short film, a feature to pitch and Haitian French background, which explains his perfect French. Wound up in a very interesting discussion about art, film and acting with Annie, that lasts until the nightly party in The Cave, which is getting increasingly more hot and over-crowded, if that's possible, as the evenings progress. Put Annie in a cab by 1am and head back for what I can't believe will be my last full night in the Hotel de Lyon.

SATURDAY 2/6 Wake up kind of sad that it's coming to an end tonight. Amazing feeling of appreciation (and joy) to have the opportunity to make films and share them in such an exciting and diverse community, to share stories that resonate. My French is improving now that I'm about to leave and the town is feeling much more familiar and inviting. On the way to my "Directors' Panel" discussion on PATAPOUF, I am stopped by more fans of the film. One runs out of a café to hug me on the street, another has her friend take a picture of us.

The panel and the panelists are very interesting, intelligent, perceptive, though the audience is thin. One of the two moderators is tough, searing and intense with leathered skin and bad teeth - very French; he sort of intimidates me, but it turns out he has quite high praise for the film, which he proclaims rather dogmatically.

I receive a message to go to the festival office to confirm my seating at the award ceremony and it seems the evening will, in fact, bring an official recognition of some kind. My Palestinian friend, Abdullah, tells me he's part of the group lobbying for a shared Grand Prize (CREAMPUFF and Carlos' lovely, poetic Mexican film, IN THE MIRROR OF THE SKY). H&M are giddy with excitement.

By mid-afternoon it becomes clear: CREAMPUFF will be awarded the "Prix de la Presse," a huge honor, as the French and international journalists are notoriously harsh and tough on films. Their prize is thought to be very high praise, indeed, and the competition this year has been especially fierce.

Some really great films screening in competition. I begin to prepare a few sentences in French to say at the ceremony tonight (which will be broadcast on French TV). Afterward, there'll be a very exclusive party thrown by Canal+ at some castle (the location is a secret until the last minute). I realize my feet haven't touched the ground in several days. After a few moments to catch my breath in my room and commit the French lines to memory, I head to the ceremony. I'm greeted by festival folk who grin and flash me "thumbs up." I'm ushered to my front row seat and the sweat's really starting to pour. This is a REALLY big deal, here.

Bands play, the Grand Juries file in and the thing finally gets going. I silently chant my French mantra and before I know it, I hear my name called.

There's very warm applause and cheers and the speech goes over quite well. I get the French out pretty smoothly and my "over-enthusiastic American" act goes over very well.

I am presented with a huge bouquet of flowers, which I clutch for the rest of the night.

As I settle back into my seat, it starts to dawn on me what an extraordinary thing has just happened; this is a massive international festival in which a few dozen films out of the thousands that have been submitted are being featured and appreciated by 150,000 people - and CREAMPUFF has been singled out by the international film press as THE BEST. Shit. The ceremony ends and I'm surrounded by well-wishers.

Megan O'Neill, Christian Guinot (a festival director), and Jared with the Prix de la Presse flowers

Jared with Megan O'Neill and Harold Warren, of Forefront Films, the distributors of Creampuff

Megan's told by two jury members that we were close to winning two awards, but one was thought to be enough… Things blur for a couple of hours.

(I know I had a pretty dazed dinner with a few directors; Carlos, whose film also won a prize, was there, I know, and a few other directors and journalists).

Then on to the party. Very cool castle, but over-crowded, as could be expected. A few good-byes, many exchanged cards and a lot more well-wishes. I leave with Annie on the bus and go to pick-up the car in the garage - which won't start, of course. We manage to get it down from the fourth floor and around the block, but no sign of turning over. I finally go to pack and hope for a miracle. After calling a cab, a local student who's stopped to help in my last vain attempt to start it up observes, "I guess you've checked the security cut-off…" Hmmm. The car is running and I'm heading out of town tout suite. Thoughts and memories of the week float through my mind as I attempt to make the two-and-a-half-hour trip in just over an hour - which I do! I ditch the car at Avis and scurry through the airport in Lyon. I'm met by a French "Boarding Supervisor" who decides to make my next two days en route to the Bangladesh fest a living hell and he closes the gate just as I approach. Many hours and tons of aggravation later, I've rerouted myself via London and even worse connections than I had planned on.

I continued to send e-mail reports home to my dear cast and crew of the strange events that lay ahead in Bangladesh and India -- in a nutshell, the Bangladesh International Short Film Festival was postponed due to violent "hartals" -- which are, basically, politically-charged general strikes. I was forced to stay inside for my few days there and had to leave before the festival resumed, but the experience was fascinating and quite memorable, though not at all what I had expected and quite a contrast to all the celebration and merriment of Clermont-Ferrand.

Both weeks were amazing and I know my perspective on the world has been irreversibly broadened and I am so thankful for the incredible challenges and revelations of this extraordinary journey. And I reflect on the gifts of Clermont-Ferrand, our first public acknowledgment for all the sweat and passion and heart we sunk into our little PATAPOUF. It was a fantasy reception and I hope it is just the first of many opportunities we'll have to share the film with real audiences. It's really amazing to have the feedback come so intensely from such disparate people who've been moved by the film. I'm really proud of our work and my only regret is that the celebration couldn't be shared by more of us who gave so much of ourselves collaborating and creating in such a dynamic, creative ensemble. Hope to be a bigger group next time and to share the pride and satisfaction of this piece of work that owes so much to every cast and crew member who gave a piece of themselves. Thanks, guys. And Mazel Tov!