Matt Feldman Photography
The bridge and colonnaded viaduct Pont de Bir-Hakeim, with a southbound 6 train.
Today’s freight train explosion happened just a few kilometers from where I live. I didn’t hear or feel the blast, but those exact same tracks run along the end of my block and the train would have passed by me a few minutes later on its way south. So it got me thinking about trains.
The first bombs fell about 10 pm. Their arrival was no surprise — journalists left the city two days prior. Residents gathered in Cold War-era shelters as the air raid sirens wailed and radio reports warned of the need for gas masks. The state-run television station blinked out. Explosions erupted around the city and the lights went black.
I was in the line to visit the ship’s Moroccan immigration officers when I noticed the guy in the line beside me. He looked, well, Moroccan. And in his hand was a Canadian passport. After reading wild tales of hucksters and scam artists, I was keen to know if the ship’s currency exchange rate was decent.
