Wiki on Bastille Day.
So that’s what I’ve go to look forward to.
Pictures from Paris:
Carte Noire on the train.
That tower.
On the tower.
The way to see Paris: on foot. Left Bank.
Everything’s closed, except, of course, for the Tour de Effiel. Effeil. Effeile. My French is badly inflected with too much gutter Spanish, which only results in much rolling of the eyes.
Then there was the dispute with fellow travelers, about how to navigate the town. I wanted to eschew any maps, guides, local assistance or anything short of divine inspiration, which, did indeed, lead us to the Tour de Effiel. Effeil. Effeile. Requisite tourist shots are there.
“No, Kramer, you can’t see it from every corner.”
What, it’s so tall, it disappears in the clouds? Not really, and wee made it without stopping to ask for directions, looking at a map – my innate sense of direction and street smarts is what got us around. I am such the guy.
“Ou sont ta papa?”
