A photo is worth a thousand words. I think I can spare everyone my 1,000 words and let this image speak for itself. Thursday night I had my first significant contractions, which prompted my over-anxious husband to grab his keys and sit on the edge of the couch saying "On y va? Oui, on y va. Mais, on y va ou non? Julie, eh, on y va?"
Even if you don't understand French, I think you get it.
Whatever that was, it passed, and yesterday I "celebrated" Bastille Day for the first time in France. BOOOOOOORRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG. No festivals, no parades (except the big one in Paris), no cotton candy, no BBQ's, no marching bands. I was pretty let down.
Imagine thousands of people on the beaches and the boardwalk, all watching this big fireworks display over the Mediterranean and no one saying a word. You could practically hear a pin drop over the waves of the sea. No oooohing or aahing, no clapping, no whistling. I said "Are we at a funeral?" Then I spontaneously hooted and clapped for a particularly big display, and everyone turned and looked at me like "there's a crazy pregnant woman here, clapping."
It's ok, gave me something to make fun of on our walk back home. After stopping for a gelatto.
2 comments:
It's very true that on the 14th of July there was NO celebrating to be seen ANYWHERE, yet when France was winning the World Cup everyone suddenly became nationalist! Go figure. My usual response to this type of situation is quite simple "It's France!"
Keep up the good work. thnx!
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