And so it was that I experienced the French-style roller coaster known as luge d’été, or “summer sledding” (sans the snow). Two person per one seat, so I was with Ar the whole time. It was pretty much this: we mounted steeply to the top of a mountain, strapped into a sled-contraption attached to metal rails, and then descended downwards (with plenty of curves thrown in for good measure).
To be honest, I’m pretty sure most real roller coaster aficionados would proclaim it to be completely lame and pathetic, but for me (and Ar who was right beside me), it was quite the thrill. Maybe a bit too much so for Ar, as I, for one, love SPEEEEED, and it was also me who controlled the lever to slow down….which I didn’t do too much of, even when we were at the hairpin turns. The whole time Ar was squeaking, “Ali! Stop! Break!” while I pretended that I couldn’t hear. But no worries, she is hardly scarred for life, as afterwards I saw a look on her face of ravished contentment from all the adrenaline-filled excitement.
Climbing upwards (that would be Ar's pink-speckled hat in the foreground)
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