I’ll keep the final Bastille Day instalment brief. You don’t want to listen to me; you’re here for the pretty shiny things.
Alone, Kenny having chosen a bath over fireworks, I made for Trocadero late evening, along with the rest of the city, and found myself yet again with an incomparable metro experience, as hundreds of people surged off each metro train and began the steep climb to the surface from one of the deepest metro lines. People were even taking pictures of the scene, so remarkable was it. I, meanwhile, was sandwiched in between two families with buggies, so have no record other than memories which will haunt me into old age.
Quickly dismissing my chances of seeing anything where I hit the surface, I moved swiftly east along the river until I could see over the Palais Chaillot and could see the
Well, the fireworks were spectacular, and undoubtedly the best fireworks I’ve ever laid eyes on, and all I can do is pass on a couple of videos of the event. They’re only a few seconds each, mostly.
Afterwards, we all discovered that for security reasons, they had closed the metro stations closest to the display on the right bank, so I walked east along the river to try the next couple. I soon found that they were also closed, which left my only option heading north to the Étoile. I ended up walking about two miles back and forth at
In case you’re wondering what the combined effect of all these differing merriments was, here’s my bus at
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