Special Edition: Boom! Crackle! Pop! Aaahh!
I now need a vacation from the overwhelmingly fun festivities…Les Bals des Pompiers and Bastille Day.
(‘Course, I’m about to take it — so be reminded that you won’t hear a peep from me between July 22nd and 30th when I’ll become a lizard on the sand on the Dalmatian coast [Croatia] with my daughter.) Both Wednesday and Thursday evenings of this week I found myself saying…”Boy, I sure do like this town!”
The young fireman are totally dreamy — all under 35, all “metrosexual” with their short hair, muscular tattooed bodies and adorable smiles. With a press pass, a business card and a little charm, we snaked our way into the back entrance of the party at the “caserne” (fire station) on rue de Sevigné before the party even began. That gave us a chance to “schmooze” with the guys before the crowds started to flow in and fill the large courtyards to capacity. Parler Paris Marketing Manager, Lynda Sydney, wasn’t complaining, as she got propped up on the bar to be surrounded by adoring fellows.
The band played, the dancing began and we didn’t stop until we were dripping in sweat and our feet were in pain. The “merguez”
and fries were surprisingly delicious. Pascal Fonquernie of Parismarais.com managed to make good-enough friends to get a tour of their sleeping quarters and party with a corps of firefighters until the wee hours of the morning. I don’t dare show you the photos he took!
A few blocks away at place de la Bastille, a Brazilian band on a large stage with big screens had thousands of people dancing and partying in the streets. Lucky to conjure up a table at the Café Français, we rested our weary bones and re-energized over drinks while the music played and the masses of humanity streamed by. I reflected on how many memorable occasions seem to happen for me at that very spot.
Yesterday, the annual parade marched down the Champs-Elysées while the jets flew in formation overhead and Lynda and I stayed in to write about the insidious French Wealth Tax and the Comforts of Château Living for this week’s French Property Insider. In a rush at 8 p.m., we gathered our picnic goodies and headed out to reach the Champ de Mars in time for dinner on the grass and the annual fireworks display at the Eiffel Tower.
To get a good spot, one must stake a claim about 7 p.m. We were fortunate to have a friend arrive early, spread a large sheet and “reserve” a good “table.” Dead center, it could not have been more spectacular. There simply isn’t much more divine than the elaborate and elegant fireworks display set behind La Grande Dame — this year with a light and music show featuring the Year of Brazil. “The Girl from Ipanima” started to play, the sky lit up with intense color…and I started to cry.
Every year, it just gets better.
A la prochaine…
Editor, Parler Paris
Email [email protected]
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