[This is a continuation of the travel diary I kept during the summer of 1999 when I had the pleasure of touring Europe for two weeks. This entry explains some of why I always remember why July 14th is Bastille Day. That and my odd love of history. Quick, what happened in 1215?? — Present-day Carrie]
It’s still the morning so I don’t know what happened w/ this day yet. I’ll do that later. Last night the French people celebrated Bastille Day. Steven, me, Ken, Paul, Mrs. Byram, & Mac went to the top of the Arc de Triomphe to see the fireworks. Wow, it was a spectacular view! You could see the whole layout of Paris. The Eiffel Tower was magnificent-looking b/c of the lights they shine on it. And the fireworks were wonderful, too, even though we got kicked off the Arc (not literally) because it closed.*
The Frenchmen like to light their own fireworks themselves. The loud big bang kind. And they get a kick out of throwing them in places where they would echo quite well, & near crowds. One landed very near us when we were going down to the metro, & scared us so very very bad; we decided to go straight to the hotel. We were all nervous; I know the poop was scared out of me.**
Think I got to bed around 1, which is better than the 3:30 from the night before.
And now it’s morning. I’m watching Teletubbies in French. Scary. Au revoir Tinky Winky! Au revoir! Au revoir Dipsy! Au revoir! & so forth and so on.
Oww, that sneeze hurt.
*Seriously, halfway through the most spectacular fireworks display of the year, the Parisian stewards of the Arc come up and say the monument is closed, everybody off, go go go, down down down, now now now. No fireworks for you!
**Our whole group was so shaken up by the crazy Parisians and their cherry bomb antics that we made jokes with each other to try to lighten the mood. It’s how we all dealt with stress. Except Mac. He was pissed and he wanted everyone to know it. We all eventually came to words in the Metro and it was one of the few times I have ever seen Steven yell.