Le jour de la pris de la Bastille

Today was one of my favorite days in France.
We didnt have class in the morning, so I was able to sleep in till 9 and go for a run before it was to hot. I discovered that there is a vineyard about 20 feet outside my window. I actually ran on the roads today ( I usually stick to the trails next to the tram stop) so I drew about 5 awkward looks a mile (made exponentially worse by the fact that I had to stop and stretch out my back who was acting up). I've decided to run the Thanksgiving Day Marathon this year. If anyone wants to join Derek and I in our quest for fitness please do, I really need some training partners.
After I got back from the run, I showered off and ate lunch with the family. Hugo invited me to go rock-climbing with him, his brother (Jonathan), and Jon's girlfriend (Celine). I knew there was a rock gym not far from the house, so I signed on for a quick trip.
I'll take this opportunity to explain two things that are important but not redly obvious:
1. When I arrived in Montpellier, Hugo had just returned from the French National Gymnastics competition where he had placed 7th. Thus, Hugo is jacked. He's one of those people who can flex muscles you didnt even know existed. This is made exponentially worse by the fact that its really hot here, no one wears shirts during the day in my house and I'm in the worst shape since 7th grade. Jon is well past his physical prime compared to Hugo, as he sports a mere 8-pack (to hugo's 12 pack)
2. Hugo, Jon, and Celine got back a week ago from a month long vacation in Vietnam. What I didnt learn until the car ride with Hugo was that it was to climb cliffs on the Vietnamese coast.

With these to trinkets in the back of your mind, imagine my chagrin when we hopped in the car and drove an hour to Pic Saint Loup. As we approached the wall with our gear (oh yea, bad sign #3, they all owned fitted harnesses, as well as numerous climbing accouterments) I started to sweat a little. Ok, its obvious I cant keep up with Atlas et Brother over there, but luckily we were with Celine, a 5', petit, soft spoken girl: surely I can keep up with here. No sooner did I think this than Celine lit a cigarette, chalked up her hands, and said "Let's do this bitch. " (excuse her French).
This seems like the appropriate time to note that this was not BSA safe-climb regulated top rope belay climbing. No we were Lead Climbing: there were metal rings along the route which you had to carabiner then run your rope through the 'biner.
All this being said, as a proud climbing merit badge holder, I feel like I held my own. Granted I didnt get to the top of any of them, but at least I didnt burst into tears like one of the group who was on the other face. I was very obviously the worst of the group, but they blamed it on my tennis shoes (they all had personalized climbing shoes) I think there might be two other reasons (each of Hugo's biceps).
After 5ish hours of climbing we came back home, ate dinner, and I had to quickly leave to go see the Fireworks for the 14th of July or Bastille Day.
Other than not having work and going and seeing fireworks, Bastille Day isnt at all like the 4th of July. Whereas we are celebrating signing a document liberating us from a common enemy, Bastille day was a dark day in French history with lots of death and anarchy. On a related note, their national anthem is hardcore. La Marseillaise actually has the line "May the unpure blood water our furrows."

We took a bus over to a large open area where we could see the fireworks and they were fantastic. Maybe the best firework show that I've ever seen. As the firework show ended everyone burst into applause and I was left with that warm tingling sensation you get after a great meal.
Slowly everyone came back to the real world and our attention shifted to the long line of buses waiting on the street. Our sentiments quickly shifted from patriotic to lord-of-the-flies-esque as thousands of people flocked to the buses. I think Jamie put it best: it was like trying to get on a life boat while the Titanic was sinking. After 3 hours of fighting mob-mentality, 2 buses and a tram later I was home.