Jul 14 - Bastille Day Eve

Today is July 14th. In France that's Bastille Day, the day the French Republic began.

Marco and I were not diligent citizens of Paris this year. We went to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (on opening night!) this year instead of celebrating the country's civic heritage. We did hit the festivities last year however. They went something like this:

People start celebrating on the eve of Bastille Day, the 13th. Like all over Paris, a makeshift stage was erected in the morning at the Place de la Contrescarpe, just up the street from our apartment. This was in preparation for one of the many bal popular or "people's balls" that take place all over the city.

We showed up after dinnertime, with our friend Damien, as the first act was wrapping up. This is a night for the masses, so there is something to please all folks. Entertainment began with a traditional French accordian band playing nostalgic sing-along favorites that old folks danced and warbled along with. In the meantime one-night entrepreneurs with homemade stands started selling bowls of rum punch and sangria at 2 euros a cup along the sidewalks so the younger public could warm up for the next act.

We got our cups at the stand of a jolly Spanish-looking woman. She was selling punch with hand-picked ceries griottes bobbing in it, a breed of sour cherry with a nice tang. Then we gathered around the stage to watch the accordian players leave and the next band hit the stage. Rockin' round number two was a rock n' roll band that must have come straight from a wedding reception. They belted out the whole gamut of 80s hits from Little Red Corvette to Funkytown. Cheesy but engaging and yes, we did dance.

Towards midnight we started roaming. The balls in the public squares are fun, but the real action is at the firemen's halls. Like the firemen's yearly pancake breakfast back home in the St. Croix valley, the firemen raise money for the upcoming year by throwing a Bastille Day ball. But Parisian firemen know how to party. They turn their firetruck hangars into the scenes of Paris' hottest nightclubs for one night, with the swells of club music throbbing through their walls.

We tried to see what all the fuss over the firemen's balls was about. But the two we found along Rue de Rivoli had long, lonnnnggg lines of young hotties dressed all shades of tight and glittery wrapped around the city block. Too long for us. We kept walking and capped off the night on a sidewalk patio in front of, very appropriately, the Bastille column.

The next morning I walked out (to visit a potential apartment) only to see fighter planes with blue, white and red exhaust trails swooping across the Paris sky. The military does a big parade down the Champs Elysee boulevard, but like most folks who spent all night at the "people's balls", we were too lazy to go and instead spent a long and indolent day off in the warm July sun. Then in the evening we were re-energized enough to picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower, where I saw the most dazzling array of fireworks I have ever seen.