Bastille Day Bliss

Is it possible to enjoy a patriotic holiday when one holds a strident non-belief in the very idea of patriotism? I like France, a lot, but I've never been a fan of flag-waving festivities--probably due, in at least some part, to the fact that where I come from, Independence day is synonymous with loud drunken louts, reckless handling of fireworks, and dead animals charring on a grill. It's also an excuse to drag out that poor old dead horse, 9/11, and beat it just a little bit more. Generally.

So while I'm not a big fan of nationalism and all the attendant sentiments, slogans, and activities, I do love a party, and for years, my curiosity has been piqued about the Bal des Pompiers or "Firemen's Ball." The word "bal" has always thrown me off; I can't help but imagine all the neighborhood Cinderallas coming out in full fancy-drag regalia, waltzing around the fire pole with Prince Pierre in his pompier finery. It's not like that, as it turns out, except for the fact that the annual Bastille Day celebration takes place in the local firehouse. All that's required of attendees--men, women, and children, is that they show up (in jeans, if you want), dance, and have fun.

Is there anything better than a bright blue sky at 10 pm?

There's no escaping big-screen TVs, even in the firehouse.

The crowd started to amp up with the arrival of the spotlights.

Red, white, and bleu--an Independence Day color theme for the masses.

The band kicked off with that wedding reception favorite, "You're my everything" by the Temptations.

Followed by "Le Freak." Now the party's getting started.

This might have been a Black Eyed Peas cover, or maybe Michael Jackson. The band actually shredded.

I kept my expectations low, but the music was a combination of practically every genre I love: Disco, pop, hip-hop. Think Best Cruise-Ship Band Ever. It was like that. Polished, visually stimulating (go-go dancers who changed costume between sets), and fronted by singers who were well-versed in between-song banter. I'd definitely hire 'em for my next party.

The party ended at 4 a.m. on July 14, Bastille Day. We didn't last that long. Around the time Cinderalla's coach would have morphed into a pumpkin, we were walking through the hushed Batignolles streets, taking in our neighborhood's beautiful architecture.

One of the prettiest windows I've seen yet in Paris.

We'd been promising the dog for weeks that we'd take her to the park to get her nature fix, and this Sunday we kept our word. After a lunch of Indian food and chilled rose, we cycled out to the Bois de Vincennes where it was hot and teeming with families and couples out picnicking. We rode to our "secret spot," through a forest of tall trees and across a field of waist-high grass, where we spread out our blanket and soaked up the sun.

On the way back into the city, we sought out and eventually found the local velodrome, built in 1896, and one of Hemingway's many cycling-centric haunts when he lived in Paris in the '20s. From here, we pedaled off back toward the converted railway line bike path. Somewhere in the 20e arrondissement, we heard live music and saw a crowd gathered outside a cafe. We stopped, locked up the bikes, and went in to scope out the live entertainment and indulge in a refreshing boisson.

The singer, who sometimes strummed a guitar, was accompanied by a pianist. Each tune they played seemed to focus on French quotidien life (I heard the words "boulangerie," "pain" and "vin" more than a few times), and harken back to the pre-war period. Most of the audience sang along. Even if I couldn't make out all the lyrics, I liked the music, and on this particular day, I didn't really mind if the songs were patriotic or nationalistic. If it can make a group of Frenchies smile, it can't be that bad.

This was a local crowd. Everyone seemed to know each other.

Manu, singing an old-timey number about St. Lazare. 

I couldn't understand all the lyrics, but everyone else did and sang along accordingly.

Bibliophilia

While prepping for the class I'm teaching next week, I thought it would be helpful to students to have access to some tangible vegetarian-oriented resources. Over the years, I've collected scads of books on vegan food, animal rights, veg travel, etc.--though I've given most away, so it's no longer the carefully curated "vegan library" I once possessed. Thankfully, my friend Mary Margaret, who is the food editor at Vegetarian Times, recently gave me a gazillion veg cookbooks she was ready to part with. I'm thinking I'll loan those to whoever is interested, or simply let them leaf through the stack after class.

I thought it also might be helpful to tout our local bibliotheques (aka libraries), so students know that we have a cool, diverse, polylingual resource at our disposal as Paris residents--and it's free! This past Wednesday, I pedaled up to the Bibliotheque Batignolles and went on the prowl for books with a veg focus, and found three; two cookbooks (one of which I brought home) and one guide: Paris Vegetarien.

When this pocket-size, 110-page paperback came out last year, I was kind of bummed; I'd been working on a vegan Paris guide of my own and even pitched the book's publishers, Parigramme, a similar title. (No response, and no surprise. Non-response-as-NO is how the French roll.) But when I saw it sitting on the library shelf, shiny and new and barely touched (if ever), I tossed my resentment and that smidgen of jealousy to the wayside and carried it to the counter.

What a great book--even if I didn't get to write it!

In bed later that night, surrounded by reading material and one interested little dog, I leafed through the book expecting nothing new and was pleasantly surprised. Inside were indeed oodles of places I was utterly and completely familiar with, but there were also a solid handful of listings that were totally not familiar, and therefore totally exciting. And good timing, too; ever since finding a breathmint (not mine) in the spinach curry at my favorite Sunday lunch spot, I've been looking for new restaurants to try.

With Paris Vegetarien, I've got some good weekend possibilities lined up. For instance, Mille et Une Beautes. If the place sounds/looks like a beauty salon, that's because it is. A beauty salon that serves vegetarian lunch! Weird, right? But wait! There's another retail/resto melange serving veg fare: Carmen Ragosta. It's a clothing boutique-slash-Italian restaurant. Brilliant mix. (Only it's probably best to try on clothes before trying out the pasta.)

The most exciting entries I discovered might be the bits focused on the Paris suburb of Montreuil; apparently, there's a vegan boulanger at the Wednesday market there, and at Casa Poblano, a non-profit arts association, there's a little cafe serving veg (and non-veg) food that's run by our old friend Falko. Falko was the guy behind Oscar Cafe, the Tuesday night vegan supper club we looked forward to each week when we lived in Paris back in 2004-2005.

Writers aren't thanked enough for the good work they do (IMOHO), so this is my thank-you to Alcyone Wemaere, wherever you are, for researching and writing a useful guide for novices and experienced vegan Parisians alike. To quote the title of one of my vegan cookbooks, "I am grateful"!