Skyrockets in flight, beewwwww, Agorraphobic Delight

Yesterday we learned an important lesson in life. Once you've seen one pile of bones with a tombstone written in a language you can't understand, you've pretty much seen every pile of bones with a tombstone written in a language you can't understand. As you may have concluded, we went to see the Catacombs. Unfortunately the Catacombs were somewhat of a letdown. It begins as a very interesting, intriguing place. All of the 'residents' were moved to the catacombs to sanitize Paris as people used to be planted right outside the church doors and things had gotten a bit crowded. The Catacombs themselves are abandoned limestone mines beneath the city and the bones of the deceased were stacked along the sides of the mine in various patterns (because if you're going to stack bones all day you might as well have a little artistic expression and fun while you're doing it). All of the bones were marked with plaques saying where they came from and some had quotes that we were unable to read because of our linguistic ignorance. Alas they were not anything like the Catacombs from Indiana Jones: the Last Crusade and I fault Harrison Ford and Steven Spielberg for our slight let down. We are all glad we got to visit the Catacombs thought there were no rats, raging infernos, our buried crusaders. The highlight of the Catacombs was the 'Man in the Iron Mask Rap' performed at the end of the tour by our very own Heather and Erin. From there we headed to the cemetery on Montparnasse. Some of the more famous residents include Sartre, Samuel Beckett, Tristan Tzara, Man Ray, and our very own Eugene Ionesco. The highlight of the visit was our rendition of Shakespeare's 18th Sonnet. Erin wrote it down on a piece of paper which we ripped up and then scrambled in a hat. We then randomly picked pieces out and read them as we let them fall on the grave of Tristan Tzara (reference: Travesties by Tom Stoppard). The revised sonnet will be posted soon. After the cemetery we headed back to the Fiap to get ready for our evening event of seeing Ionesco's 'the lesson' and 'the bald soprano'. We saw the plays at a tiny theatre in the Latin Quarter called the Theatre de la Huchette. This is where Ionesco premiered the plays fifty years ago and where they have played ever since. The theare was maybe 50 seats and maybe a touch under one million degrees farenheit.
Equation for future tourists: Europe=no air-conditioning.
We sweated our way through the performances and were rewarded by some stunning performances. They were very simple productions but also very, very effective. Even thought the plays were performed in French, the clarity of the acting made the intentions and storyline understandable throughout. Following the plays we went to a small brasserie(Liz, spelling?) and ate, drank, and watched the World Cup European style (lots of quietness followed by frightening outburst of noise and movement by the other patrons and Lauren). Following dinner we did glamour shots on the steetcorner and went to bed. For Sunday we plan to sleep and write as our monologues are due on Monday. We hope to go to Luxembourg gardens to R&R while we let the creativity find paper. for now, the plastic people of the universe, mahalo