I scream, you scream...

Before I talked briefly about my European adventure. Now I'll put some detail on a great story from France:

My favorite moment was in Paris, when the French team won the World Cup game against former champion Brazil. My family was walking innocently down the streets of Paris, thinking that the French team had lost, or were losing. To our surprise, when we came to a bar at the corner of the street, it was packed to the sidewalk and the France fan's eyes were glued seriously to the TV. The score was still zero to zero! After a few minutes of observation, (although we wanted to stay and watch) we continued to walk on down the streets, occasionally passing another packed bar or resturaunt. Still the score just remained annoyingly the same. Suddenly, out of the blue I heard an uproar of cheers. We raced to the place we had just passed, along with some other people who had heard the noise and were interested. I looked at the television with excitement: the French team had scored!!! Cheers of France's national anthem poured into my ears, in bold words that I couldn't understand, though their meaning was still clear. They had a chance to win! We raced back, excited, to our hotel-room to watch the game and waited until there was only 10-20 minutes left on the clock. My parents had planned on a late night picnic that day, and we decided to find a local place to watch the last moments of the game, thinking that after the French won we would saunter down to the nearby park for some celebration. Of course, I was quivering with nervousness while we traveled through the streets. It would be cool to be in Paris, (France's main city) when the team beat beat Brazil, and my dad assured me that with little time left in the game, France would triumph. Still, I hated to be that sure, and was frittering away at every little groan of nearby fans. What if we were wrong? Was that Brazil scoring, or just a minor call? Finally we reached a place to watch the game. Joining the crowd, I watched, resisting the urge to bite my nails as time wound down. Soon it was three minutes left, then two, then one. Suddenly the people around me burst into vibrant rounds of noise. They had won! France, the underdog, had won against Brazil! I pushed my fears aside easily, my sense of excitement screaming as much as the fans. It would be a interesting night of celebration....

As we walked to the park that night, people came bursting from the doors of houses, screaming with excitement and shouting to their friends. Even after we had settled down in our favorite park near the Eiffel Tower, a parade of people came down a nearby street waving flags and celebrating. I didn't know what was more satisfying, the delicious chocolate flan and baguette on my plate, or the chattering of proud citizens.

That night, it was impossible to leave the windows open and still sleep, the honks of cars and cheers piercing the normal quiet. Turning on the TV, I noted that we was lucky we weren't staying in a hotel near the Champs-Elysees. The fan crowds around the Arc de Triomphe were so massive they had stopped traffic.

Not wanting the night to end, I opened up the window one last time and shouted "Vive le France!" Which, according to my mother means "long live France." Smiling, I shut it and went to sleep, the best night of sleep I had in Paris, I note proudly. Apparently, excitement wears a girl down.

Even now, the remembrance of that night remains a blossom of happiness in mind, and the chants of the Parisans are still fresh in my ears. It might not be as exciting as some of your trip memories, but for me it is equivalent to climbing the Himalayas.