Le mugging

A couple of days ago, Ed’s brother was mugged waiting for the train to Versailles.

He was standing on the platform when a group of young men surrounded him, ripped his wallet out of his pocket, then pushed him onto the train and took off running.

Reflections on about and around

Catherine’s spending Bastille Day getting back to the US; I’ll be spending it visiting Gettysburg. One of our traveling companions has equipped us with copies of Michael Shaara’s Pulitzer Prize winning The Killer Angels: The Classic Novel of the Civil War. I finished it yesterday, and am now primed as can be for the theater of war and the dramatis personae: from Cemetery Ridge to Little Round Top; from Pickett to Chamberlain.

Ébullition

 

Allez les bleus !

Just back from watching France beat Belgium — fantastically exciting — it’s astonishing how hair-raising a 1-0 game turns out to be. I had no idea.

Crowds are massed on the Champs-Elysées and cars are streaming down Avenue Maine, where we are, honking their horns and flying the Tricolore — yet, strangely, no one is turning parked vehicles over, stripping down to their underwear, or setting anything on fire. 

If this were England, things would be different.

Or Philadelphia.

If this were Philadelphia, things would be completely different.

C. and Ed are watching the post-game coverage …. 

C.: “They’re climbing light poles! I’m so proud of them!”

Ed and C. are Phillies Eagles ¹ fans. C. missed the post-game riots, but he did go to the post-game parade, which was riot-like.

He came home with a big gash on his leg, which he says was worth it.

(Wifi and privacy restrictions are funky here, so we’ll see if the videos load. Preview isn’t working at the moment.)

^{1. sheesh↩}

Happy 4th !

I can’t believe I’m missing the 4th of July (worse yet, I’m missing the 4th in Tarrytown, which has a fantastic celebration) — and I’m going to be missing Bastille Day here in France, too, because we fly home that day.

I have no idea what Bastille Day is like here, and now I’m not going to find out. 

Arrrghhh

Oh, well, c’est la vie !

(Progress report: I’m on the cusp of knowing why it’s C’est la vie, not Il est la vie.)

Happy 4th !