tle of Coca-Cola on each table and Ketchup! We didn't have french fries or anything that required it, but it seems to be an acknowledged fact in Paris that Americans can't have a meal if it doesn't involve ketchup somehow. They also had cute Bastille Day napkins with little guillotine's on them (just kidding, it was just french flags and firecrackers, but one can wish).We had decided to watch the fireworks from the Pont Des Artistes, so Don, Gina, the Cecilias, Meredith, Rose and I headed over right after dinner to get a good spot. Even though we got there three hours before the show, we were only able to get sitting room in the middle. But, we were prepared with wine, chocolate, and more of the loaf of Poulain bread though, so it was all good.
The fireworks were scheduled for 10:45, and by the time 9pm rolled around the bridge was packed. We had secured a pretty cool spot though, so we waited anxiously for the light show.
At around 10:50, they started...and they were just "eh". US fireworks would kick their ass. Supposedly by the Champs de Mars they had a full-on opera choir and the lights were synchronised to the music. From the bridge, we were able to see just about the top half of the explosions over the trees. And the only thing we heard was the crowd noise from the bridge. Oh, and some guy with a guitar playing Bob Marley songs, but he was hardly synchronised, and he only knew the chorus. But it was still fun to hang out (unfortunately, I still went home with bread).
Below, through the magic of photo enlargement (we live in an age of wonders), you can enjoy a picture of the fireworks. In reality, what we saw was ultra tiny. But in solidarity with my host country, let's all pretend they were huge, and that whichever of the three tenors is still alive is singing a jolly aria.
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