By the end of the day, my husband and lost the motivation to drive to Apt to view the fireworks.It would be starting just after 10 pm, so we wanted to arrive early to eat dinner. We struggled to leave the comfort of our house, while mumbling about being tired. The drive was quiet. We reached Apt at around 8 pm, parked the car, and walked downtown. I brought two cameras and realized one was dead and the other had only a couple minutes of life left – all I had was the camera in my Blackberry… with no flash.
Music blaring for different directions, people piling in the streets, scent of provincial food surrounding us, we started to perk up. Restaurants were packed, families sat under parasols as they drank their cafés or aperitifs. The air was fresh with a slight chill and my husband laughed that I had a winter jacket on. I surveyed the scene and realized I was the only one in a jacket, so I discretely stuffed it under the stroller and this poor Floridian had to acclimate.
We found a restaurant and parked Juliana’s stroller next to our table. She placed her feet up on its tray and giggled at us the entire time. I fed her some of the food off my plate, and snuck her some baby food. The food was okay, only not worth the price and my husband was not impressed with our cranky waiter.
Fireworks began booming overhead so we skipped dessert and darted out. We rushed down the narrow streets, aiming for the direction of the explosions. Juliana was sitting straight up, her hands stretched over the tray, looking all around her, trying to take it everything before speeding by. Whenever a firework came into view, she stared up at sky in awe. As soon as we made it to the open skies, we saw the last one shoot up and explode overhead. The crowd turned towards us and we were caught at the front of the stampede.
We turned around, bummed but at least happy that we caught glimpses between buildings on the way. Two people playing a tuba and trombone marched with us and then settled in a corner as everyone passed by, creating a patriotic atmosphere. We were not ready for the evening to be over, so we listened to the live band but could not find a place to sit.
Another square was a short distance away and was blaring a mix of reggae, pop, oldies… everything that could get people dancing, in French, English, and Spanish. They even played the YMCA, and yes, the crowd did the arm movements. Everyone was dancing, young and old. Couples embraced, parents twirled their kids, and singles heated up the floor. We found a corner where the music was not too loud and my husband enjoyed a cool drink.
Juliana was mesmerized. It was 11pm and past her bedtime. She did not care. I swung her into my arms and we danced, swaying and bopping to the music. She laughed and fell into the beats, my husband was cracking up. She would close her lips and hum, her eyes darting all around us, refusing to settle on any one thing. Eventually, we decided it was time to go but my husband could not get over the fact that he had no dessert with dinner. We crossed the city to get to the ice cream store where everyone was huddled around its glowing light. The served ice cream right at the door, so we remained on the street to place our order. While we drooled over the selection, an older woman behind us was cooing at Juliana, making her giggle.
We purchased one bowl with two scoops for him and two for me. I pushed the stroller while he ate his share, impatiently waiting to dig in. I glanced over to realize he began eating my share, so I hijacked it and started gobbling what I could as he tried to steal it back. People walked past us staring and probably thinking we were foolish and feeling sorry for our well-behaved daughter, innocently watching her parents struggle for control of the ice cream bowl. Juliana watched us with droopy eyes and a hint of a smile.
She still kept her two arms sprawled over the front of the stroller, still trying to take in everything. We caught her head dropping and then snapping back up. She kept doing this over and over again, and we could not help but laugh. She was struggling with all her might to stay awake. One of her hands fell off the tray, and she was hanging on with the other one, trying not to lay back. I unlatched her arms so she would lay, but she stubbornly sat back up and clung on.
We returned to the car, buckled her into the carseat, and she nodded off into a deep sleep. What a night!
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