Among the many things uniquely Parisian . . . the Firemen’s Balls over the Bastille Day holiday. The Firemen of Paris- who work out daily in Luxembourg Gardens to an audience of jogging, swooning admirers — open their Fire Houses and host raucous, music pounding, dance throbbing parties for anyone willing to drop a few euro in the bucket on the way in. Consider us willing. Us, and our fellow writers and classmates from the Paris American Creative Writing Program, our home away from home every July.
It’s our second time to stop by the Fire House on Port Royal, just around the corner from our temporary home. We know it’s close because we can hear the music pounding well into the evening. We sipped champagne (well, I did anyway) and danced and mingled until the wall of people was too crushing and our ears too deaf to endure any more fun. Simply put, it was fabulous. Maybe not quite as fabulous as the croissants. Then again, maybe it was.


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