Cloudy today, but I'm not complaining. Plenty of museums to duck into if it starts to rain.
I'm sitting in my cozy little studio off the rue de Rivoli, a prime location if there ever was one, I'm almost embarrassed to say that the one reason I hesitated about taking this apt is because of the trendy, convenient location, a half block from the Tuileries and a short walk from the Louvre. I wanted to be in a less touristy, more authentic neighborhood. But I'm certainly not sorry to be here,
Who could say no to an apt with a terrace, with views of both Eiffel Tower and Sacre Coeur, illuminated at night?
Let me try to describe the apt, hopefully leaving time to describe some of yesterday's doings.
The "terrace" is really just the roof of the building,or a part of it. The conical skylight over the stairwell takes up 3/4 of the roof, my little paradise with its metal and glass table and two chairs take up the other quarter. I've eaten all my meals there. To get out there you step over the knee high sill of what is really more of a low window than a door. A little tricky when carrying a meal. The tin roof is covered by pallet like segments of wood, quite like our sauna floor in Maine. The view is rather monochromatic, or at least subtle in hue - the gray of the roofs, antennas, and Eiffel Tower, the off white walls of the buildings, the rust color of the chimneys, and the traces of rust along the slopes of the roofs. Plus today's gray skies. I love it.
The interior of my little haven has a similar palette; white walls, except for one along the kitchen wall, which is painted q peach color. A few framed prints, all of which have orange tones. The rust colored hexagonal floor tiles look as though they have been here more than a century, and I suppose that they have. I can see a line along the floor where there once was a wall. The alcove where the bed and bathroom are was once storage, when JP bought the place 15 years ago. He put in the bathroom, which has a real tub as well as the ubiquitous French hand held shower; but with no wall bracket to hook it into. ( I was amazed when someone recently mentioned to me a shower which had only a permanently wall mounted shower head, nothing hand held, which he found odd and lacking in convenience: Let's hear it for cultural differences!) The door to the bathroom itself is the kind of glass door you would normally see in a shower, a bit unusual but intersesting.
There is a skylight directly over the bed, really nice, and JP assured me that no matter how hard it rained, the bed would stay dry even with the window open. Oh, qnd then there's the bed itself, nestled into its nook so you have to climb in from the bottom. The sheets are purple, and the bedspread is bright orange and purple stripes! Ooh la la!
The couch in the living space is a sofa bed, so the place could actually accomodate 4, but it would be a tight squeeze.
The elevator up to the 6th (read 7th, American style) floor is old and rickety, in the stairwell as many in Paris are. The doors of the lower floors look rather more upscale, or upper scale than mine, anyway. The walls are peeling in a number of places; The names on the buzzers downstairs don't include anything for this apt, or anything above the 5th floor. I have not seen anyone at all, but heard loud noise in English my first night. I think there is some kind of hostel somewhere in the building or an adjacent one. The stairs actually continue up from my apt, but I have not yet ventured up there. I am surprised that places like this still exist in this pretty ritzy neighborhood.
JP didn't ask for any security deposit; only wanted half the rent upfront; with the other half due when I arrived, and is as nice as could be. Bqsed on my experiences so far, I would recommend the place highly. The price is right, too!
Only drawback so far: I awoke in the middle of the first night with several bites and a mosquito buzzing around my head. So closed went the windows and skylight. Three weeks camping in a field and no bites; one night in a Paris apt and bites that are still itching. Go figure!
Onto yesterday: I cruised town with the eventual aim of ending up at the Decorative Arts Museum, which I've been to only once before. Came across a street market, lots of interesting architecture of all vintages, of course, stopped for a sandwich at a take out place with outdoor tables on a small square; my sandwich was shrimp and lettuce on a baguette; Not shrimp salad, just the whole shrimp and the lettuce, There was an additional flavor that I couldn't place at first. Then I noticed small green pieces baked into the bread. They were slices of green olive. Delicious! As I entered the square, an unusual, almost triangular shape, I had a strong sense of deja vu (let's see how many French words and phrases I can fit in) It felt like a dream, but I am sure I'd been there before, in a long ago life. All I can associate with it is it having been shortly before I left Paris after my two year sojourn. (!) There's a small church, and opposite it, a couple of stores with religious items sandwiching a chic design store. And, my sandwich/bakery shop. My sandwich, by the way, cost only 3 1/2 euros, about 4 dollars. (no dollar sign!) who said you can't live cheaply in Paris? and not on MacDonald's either!
I continued onward, eventually arriving at the Musee de Arts Decoratif. But by then, I decided I didn't feel like visiting that day, so I continued onward, thru the Tuileries, virtually past my apt; to the smaller Jeu de Paume,(once the royal tennis courts) at the far end of the gardens. I had seen an incredible photography exhibit there, the work of a man named Martin Parr, last summer (detailed in a blog entry from then, and lso in photos on my fb page) So I was interested to see what they had currently. It was the work of two artists; William Kentridge, and Bruno Serralongue. Both somewhat interesting, but neither with the impact of Parr's work (gee, I feel so erudite and well travelled being able to say that!) For me, the most interesting part of Kentridge's work was the music accompanying his short animated films. He is South African, and the choral music was so reminiscent of the a capella singing of my young South African friends from the festival.
I wandered through the Fair, that occupies a good part of the Tuileries, twice yesterday, during the day and again at night. The juxtaposition of the carnival and the traditional gardens and buildings around it intrigues me. But I'd never before been there at night. The huge ferris wheel is just a block from my building. I think it's become a modern Paris icon in its own right, although it's only there one month of the year.I 'll have to do some research, I know there's been a ferris wheel in Paris for a long time, dating perhaps even to the fair for which the Eiffel Tower was built.
Oh, then there's the 19th century Passages (French and English word) I walked thru yesterday. Same type and vintage architecture as the Eiffel and the ferris wheel, lots of metal. But I'll save writing about those until later: the sun is poking thru and it's time for me to head out. Don't want to spend more time documenting my experiences than having them!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Minding my a's and m's
The astute reader might have noticed the q where there ought to have been an a in the last heading. I decided not to change it because it reqlly, I mean really, reflects my life here: Here in Paris I no longer have access to an English keyboard, which I did have in Gannat. There, it was just a matter of remembering that each time I switched programs the keyboard reverted back to the French. Here I have to remember that the a, w, m, z, and I think a few others are in different places! Most frustrating, though, is that most of the punctuation is in different places. The period is upper case, which bewilders me. The exclamation, though, is lower case! And the @ is alt/Gr plus the 0, which really threw me for a loop for a while. And oh, the numbers are all upper case too.
Let me just update you on my trip here yesterday from Gannat. As I think I mentioned, I woke up very early to take down my tent. No one else was awake, except for a man I didn't recognize who came staggering over, asked me what I was doing. He was quite drunk, and likely had been part of our soiree the night before, although I hadn't seen him before. I don't know until what time the party lasted, but would guess it was quite late. I had said my goodbyes to everyone (or hope I did) before I went to bed at about 11pm, having neither the stamina or the desire to stay up any later.
I got to the station in plenty of time, took the local train, with a lot of commuters, some with bicycles. I had a 40 minute layover in Rhiom. Can ( pronounced almost like John) my co-volunteer from Turkey, a really sweet young man, was on the same train to Paris from Rhiom, but on a later train from Gannat. He had only 5 minutes between trains. I'd told him I'd plead with them to hold the train if necessary! But it wasn't, he made it fine. After about a half hour, I think (I'd dozed off) the train stopped. A conductor came thru shortly after to say that we might be there 2 to 3 hours. I was hoping I'd misunderstood, but I hadn't. And we did indeed sit there for about 3 hours. When it was clear I wasn't going to make my 12:30 rendez-vous with JP, the apt owner, I had to borrow someone's cell phone. Can, who was in the next car, had one, but the battery was dead. So were the phones of the next couple of people I asked.
I went for a couple of walks, first toward the front of the train, later towards the back. I could see an ambulance near the back of the train, but never did find out what had happened. I don't know if most of the passengers did know or not. I asked the guy sitting next to me and he said he had no idea. And he didn't seem like he cared. He was watching a movie on his laptop.
Most of the passengers seemed pretty resigned to the situation. I'm sure some had connections or plans that were going to be missed. There were certainly a lot of phone calls being made.On my walk forward I came across a woman whom I'd seen being dropped off at the station. She was probably in her late 70s, had a cane, and was English speaking. I told her what i knew about the delay, and she was pretty concerned because she had an afternoon reservation on the Eurostar to England, She was Welsh. I never found out if we arrived in Paris in enough time for her to catch her other train, There was an announcement as we arrived at the Gare de Lyon, finally, that if people needed help with their connections they should proceed to a particular counter, but she wouldnt have understood it. Can and I walked through the station together: He was spending 4 days in Paris, but needed to call his mom in Turkey who had made the hostel reservation; which he couldn't do, because his phone was dead. So we parted ways, I headed off to the metro, he in search of someplace to buy a phone card.
My other walk on the train took me thru several cars; most people reading or sleeping or working or playing on their computers, And then, I walked into another car and an entirely different environment. It was filled entirely with kids, and a few counselor type teenagers. Some kids were playing games; Parcheesi, pick up sticks, cards, etc; One group was singing a song with lots of hand movements and laughter, One counseler was stretched out across two seats and trying to sleep.
It was obviously a camp group en route to somewhere.I wonder where they were going and if they made it.
When we finally got going, they made an announcement that there would be free meals handed out in car 3, the one in front of mine. It was all very ordely, they had hundreds of meals in boxes. I saw the counselor who had been trying to take a nap earlier, with an armload of boxes, perhaps 8 of them, and teased him about how much food he was taking. The boy across the aisle from me, travellng with whom I'd guess was his grandmother, shouted out, "free food!!"
The meal consisted of packages of lentil salad, not bad, tabouli, which was kind of mushy and not so good, applesauce, and some vanilla cream cookies. And a card with an apology about the problem with the service, No bread, no cheese, almost unheard of in a French meal. There was, though, a package of crackers which were a dead ringer for matzoh. The package had some name on it, I'm going to have to look it up. The crackers tasted pretty good with the lentils.
Well, I finally did make it to the apt, thank goodness a direct line from the train station, those metro tunnels can be long; and am happily ensconced here for the next few days. I had a wonderful Paris day today, which I had been planning to describe now. But it's 10pm, just beginning to get dark, and I promised myself I would take a nighttime stroll down to the Seine. The Eiffel Tower is alight; I just stood up and took a peek at it through my window. No matter how trite an icon it has become, it never fails to impress me, I don't feel the need to go up to the top anymore, or even to wander under it, which is pretty impressive in itself. But I feel truly lucky to have this view of it, over the also iconic rooftops of the city, for the next few days.
I will try to catch up on today's activities tomorrow!
A la prochain...
Let me just update you on my trip here yesterday from Gannat. As I think I mentioned, I woke up very early to take down my tent. No one else was awake, except for a man I didn't recognize who came staggering over, asked me what I was doing. He was quite drunk, and likely had been part of our soiree the night before, although I hadn't seen him before. I don't know until what time the party lasted, but would guess it was quite late. I had said my goodbyes to everyone (or hope I did) before I went to bed at about 11pm, having neither the stamina or the desire to stay up any later.
I got to the station in plenty of time, took the local train, with a lot of commuters, some with bicycles. I had a 40 minute layover in Rhiom. Can ( pronounced almost like John) my co-volunteer from Turkey, a really sweet young man, was on the same train to Paris from Rhiom, but on a later train from Gannat. He had only 5 minutes between trains. I'd told him I'd plead with them to hold the train if necessary! But it wasn't, he made it fine. After about a half hour, I think (I'd dozed off) the train stopped. A conductor came thru shortly after to say that we might be there 2 to 3 hours. I was hoping I'd misunderstood, but I hadn't. And we did indeed sit there for about 3 hours. When it was clear I wasn't going to make my 12:30 rendez-vous with JP, the apt owner, I had to borrow someone's cell phone. Can, who was in the next car, had one, but the battery was dead. So were the phones of the next couple of people I asked.
I went for a couple of walks, first toward the front of the train, later towards the back. I could see an ambulance near the back of the train, but never did find out what had happened. I don't know if most of the passengers did know or not. I asked the guy sitting next to me and he said he had no idea. And he didn't seem like he cared. He was watching a movie on his laptop.
Most of the passengers seemed pretty resigned to the situation. I'm sure some had connections or plans that were going to be missed. There were certainly a lot of phone calls being made.On my walk forward I came across a woman whom I'd seen being dropped off at the station. She was probably in her late 70s, had a cane, and was English speaking. I told her what i knew about the delay, and she was pretty concerned because she had an afternoon reservation on the Eurostar to England, She was Welsh. I never found out if we arrived in Paris in enough time for her to catch her other train, There was an announcement as we arrived at the Gare de Lyon, finally, that if people needed help with their connections they should proceed to a particular counter, but she wouldnt have understood it. Can and I walked through the station together: He was spending 4 days in Paris, but needed to call his mom in Turkey who had made the hostel reservation; which he couldn't do, because his phone was dead. So we parted ways, I headed off to the metro, he in search of someplace to buy a phone card.
My other walk on the train took me thru several cars; most people reading or sleeping or working or playing on their computers, And then, I walked into another car and an entirely different environment. It was filled entirely with kids, and a few counselor type teenagers. Some kids were playing games; Parcheesi, pick up sticks, cards, etc; One group was singing a song with lots of hand movements and laughter, One counseler was stretched out across two seats and trying to sleep.
It was obviously a camp group en route to somewhere.I wonder where they were going and if they made it.
When we finally got going, they made an announcement that there would be free meals handed out in car 3, the one in front of mine. It was all very ordely, they had hundreds of meals in boxes. I saw the counselor who had been trying to take a nap earlier, with an armload of boxes, perhaps 8 of them, and teased him about how much food he was taking. The boy across the aisle from me, travellng with whom I'd guess was his grandmother, shouted out, "free food!!"
The meal consisted of packages of lentil salad, not bad, tabouli, which was kind of mushy and not so good, applesauce, and some vanilla cream cookies. And a card with an apology about the problem with the service, No bread, no cheese, almost unheard of in a French meal. There was, though, a package of crackers which were a dead ringer for matzoh. The package had some name on it, I'm going to have to look it up. The crackers tasted pretty good with the lentils.
Well, I finally did make it to the apt, thank goodness a direct line from the train station, those metro tunnels can be long; and am happily ensconced here for the next few days. I had a wonderful Paris day today, which I had been planning to describe now. But it's 10pm, just beginning to get dark, and I promised myself I would take a nighttime stroll down to the Seine. The Eiffel Tower is alight; I just stood up and took a peek at it through my window. No matter how trite an icon it has become, it never fails to impress me, I don't feel the need to go up to the top anymore, or even to wander under it, which is pretty impressive in itself. But I feel truly lucky to have this view of it, over the also iconic rooftops of the city, for the next few days.
I will try to catch up on today's activities tomorrow!
A la prochain...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Bqck to Paris
Here I am finally in the small studio apt that I found online. It's great, just what I imagined. What sold me on it was the balcony with views of both the Eiffel Tower and Montmarte, the fact that it has both a washing machine and a computer, and that it's on the 7th floor but is not a walkup (the elevator goes to the 6th. It's been an ardous day getting here, starting with waking up at 6am and taking my tent down; and catching a 7am train: I'll fill in the details tomorrow!
I did a batch of laundry, hung it up on the windowsills and on the patio table and chairs. think I'll take a picture of it drying with the Eiffel Tower in the background tomorrow: Went on a cruise around the neighborhood and bought some groceries - bread, cheese, wine, some veggies qnd fruits; including the tiny haricots verts - green beans - that are so typically French.
Today is the 29th of july; and the name of the street where I am staying is Rue de 29 de juillet! I asked JP; the owner of the apt; about it, and he sent me info from Wikipedia about the 3 day revolution in the 1800's that began on this day: One of gates into the Tuileries, right where I exited the metro is the 29 de juillet gate, and that is also where this street begins. Yes, I am staying in a rather ritzy neighborhood; just a block from the Tuileries gardens and just a few blocks from the Louvre. Not that you'd know it from this rather run down building with plaster peeling off the hallway walls: But that's ok with me; it's my kind of place.
It's about 9:30; and finally starting to get dark: I'm hoping to stay awake long enough to see the Tower lit up before I fall asleep.
More tomorrow.
I did a batch of laundry, hung it up on the windowsills and on the patio table and chairs. think I'll take a picture of it drying with the Eiffel Tower in the background tomorrow: Went on a cruise around the neighborhood and bought some groceries - bread, cheese, wine, some veggies qnd fruits; including the tiny haricots verts - green beans - that are so typically French.
Today is the 29th of july; and the name of the street where I am staying is Rue de 29 de juillet! I asked JP; the owner of the apt; about it, and he sent me info from Wikipedia about the 3 day revolution in the 1800's that began on this day: One of gates into the Tuileries, right where I exited the metro is the 29 de juillet gate, and that is also where this street begins. Yes, I am staying in a rather ritzy neighborhood; just a block from the Tuileries gardens and just a few blocks from the Louvre. Not that you'd know it from this rather run down building with plaster peeling off the hallway walls: But that's ok with me; it's my kind of place.
It's about 9:30; and finally starting to get dark: I'm hoping to stay awake long enough to see the Tower lit up before I fall asleep.
More tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Ready to depart
This will certainly be the last posting from Gannat. I didn't expect to even have time to write today. We have finished our work, and now our party for whoever wants to come is about to start. It is a barbeque. Harold is doing most of the work. It seems to be his thing. Hyun-Jae, Pepe, and Ayub are helping. I guess the male barbeque thing is international.
We don't really know how many people are coming. I just found out that Jean Roche, the founder/director of the festival is coming, which surprised me. Nearly all the groups have gone, except for the Khazistanis, who are staying at the hostel that is part of the Maison du Folklore. Without their costumes. they are just a bunch of cute kids, plus several adults that are the singers and musicians. They are going to two other festivals in France, before heading home,as are the South Africans. Now that I think of it, it may well be the same festivals.
The festival tents, stands, booths, etc. are almost entirely taken down. A lot of the work we did was just picking up chairs and tables and loading them into trucks. There didn't seem to be all that much to do. For us, that is. There were at least 40 men doing the heavy duty stuff. All that was left when we left the site this afternoon was the chapiteau, the big tent. I would like to have seen that come down.
For lunch today, we were taken in the back of a truck to the same place where we worked before the festival, and where all the festival equipment, scenery, etc. is stored. There is a small kitchen there too. One or a couple of the burly workers had cooked us all a lunch. We had a carrot salad, potato salad, tomotoes and hard boiled eggs. Delicious. Oh, and rum punch. These guys take their drinking seriously. It's the same men who we worked with in the early mornings, cleaning up with before the festival opened for the day. They do work hard, but I don't know how they do it, with the amount of beer they consume, starting early in the morning. I didn't realize the salads were just the first course, although I should have. Then came some braised ribs and macaroni. No dessert, probably a good thing.
I walked through town today, which I have done a few times on my own. I have to say it feels good to be on my own, away from the group. It was market day, and one stall had wild blueberries, of which I bought a half kilo, planning to share them with the group. I couple of people took a couple of berries, most people didn't want to even try them. I think a lot of them hadn't ever seen them before. So I ate a lot of blueberries today!
Then back to the festival, to stack pieces of wood from the typical Aubergne house we had taken apart the day before. We stacked them on pallets, for a forklift to carry off to one of the trucks.
I can smell the barbeque. The picnic area is right outside the Maison de Folklore, from where I have done all my blogging. I think things are going to end on a nice note tonight. I hope so. I have to confess that since the festival ended, a couple of days ago, I have been eager for the project to end, as well. I just haven't felt the same camraderie I have in all of my other volunteer projects. I think some of it is just that I don't speak French as well as most of the volunteers, and some things just go by me. But some of it is certainly the group organization. I've already written about my travails with Laure. Now Romain, her co-leader, is in charge. I don't think he has much experience supervising anyone or leading a group. I asked him today how I could get to the train station tomorrow. I am the first to leave, and there are three people taking a train an hour later. He started a rant about how he couldn't ask Pepe (who drove here from Barcelona and has been helping with some of the daily transportation and shopping.) Then he said that Pierre-Julien, to whom we are officially responsible, probably couldn't take me, he has a family and responsibilites of his own, etc. etc. I was just trying to get a word in and ask if he could call me a taxi. He said he would, or at least get me the number of a taxi company. Never did, of course, so I wound up asking Pierre-Julien, who promptly made the arrangements. Romain never did follow up with me, which doesn't surprise me. It doesn't seem like he's really concerned about how or if I get there.Just a small example of the lack of organization, or caring, about this group.
Well, enough about that. As I said before, the most striking thing about this whole event has been the experiences behind the festival. As Jean Roche has been quoted, the whole goal is international understanding and tolerance, and especially that children have this experience. And I have certainly seen that, in many ways. Watching the local kids interract with the performers is so touching, and watching the groups interract with the others, as well. An interesting observation about the performances - I have seen similar threads in some of the performances. Both the Auvergne local group (the one Jean Roche founded before he founded the festival) and the Yakuties do a similar piece, a dance about wolves hunting another animal. The Yakuti wolves hunt and kill a reindeer, and the rest of the herd returns to scare off the wolves. In the French version, which is quite different in style, music, costumes, it is a flock of sheep, hunted by a wolf after the shephard falls asleep, leaning on his staff. In this version, several shephards come back to hunt and kill the wolf, which they then carry off, to cheers from the audience.
The other common element that struck me is the part of a dance like the Virginia Reeel, where each couple comes under the arched arms of the first couple and then becomes part of the arch. I have nticed it in several dances here, including the group from Provence and the South African. How does something like that originate and then travel from culture to culture? The small instrument that is a two sided drum that one twirls between ones hands is another example of an element that I have seen from various cultures, including Thailand and Peru. In some cases, it seems likely or at least possible that it evolved separately. Certainly the wolf theme would naturally evolve in various cultures,and probably exists in many others. But how does a bridge under which the dancers move in pairs evolve in separate cultures? It's something I would like to know, just as I would like to know how the bread on a stick greeting came to be at the festival cafeteria!
Well, that's it from the town and festival of Gannat, a truly remarkable event that I would highly recommend!
Now, off to the barbeque, and then, Paris!
We don't really know how many people are coming. I just found out that Jean Roche, the founder/director of the festival is coming, which surprised me. Nearly all the groups have gone, except for the Khazistanis, who are staying at the hostel that is part of the Maison du Folklore. Without their costumes. they are just a bunch of cute kids, plus several adults that are the singers and musicians. They are going to two other festivals in France, before heading home,as are the South Africans. Now that I think of it, it may well be the same festivals.
The festival tents, stands, booths, etc. are almost entirely taken down. A lot of the work we did was just picking up chairs and tables and loading them into trucks. There didn't seem to be all that much to do. For us, that is. There were at least 40 men doing the heavy duty stuff. All that was left when we left the site this afternoon was the chapiteau, the big tent. I would like to have seen that come down.
For lunch today, we were taken in the back of a truck to the same place where we worked before the festival, and where all the festival equipment, scenery, etc. is stored. There is a small kitchen there too. One or a couple of the burly workers had cooked us all a lunch. We had a carrot salad, potato salad, tomotoes and hard boiled eggs. Delicious. Oh, and rum punch. These guys take their drinking seriously. It's the same men who we worked with in the early mornings, cleaning up with before the festival opened for the day. They do work hard, but I don't know how they do it, with the amount of beer they consume, starting early in the morning. I didn't realize the salads were just the first course, although I should have. Then came some braised ribs and macaroni. No dessert, probably a good thing.
I walked through town today, which I have done a few times on my own. I have to say it feels good to be on my own, away from the group. It was market day, and one stall had wild blueberries, of which I bought a half kilo, planning to share them with the group. I couple of people took a couple of berries, most people didn't want to even try them. I think a lot of them hadn't ever seen them before. So I ate a lot of blueberries today!
Then back to the festival, to stack pieces of wood from the typical Aubergne house we had taken apart the day before. We stacked them on pallets, for a forklift to carry off to one of the trucks.
I can smell the barbeque. The picnic area is right outside the Maison de Folklore, from where I have done all my blogging. I think things are going to end on a nice note tonight. I hope so. I have to confess that since the festival ended, a couple of days ago, I have been eager for the project to end, as well. I just haven't felt the same camraderie I have in all of my other volunteer projects. I think some of it is just that I don't speak French as well as most of the volunteers, and some things just go by me. But some of it is certainly the group organization. I've already written about my travails with Laure. Now Romain, her co-leader, is in charge. I don't think he has much experience supervising anyone or leading a group. I asked him today how I could get to the train station tomorrow. I am the first to leave, and there are three people taking a train an hour later. He started a rant about how he couldn't ask Pepe (who drove here from Barcelona and has been helping with some of the daily transportation and shopping.) Then he said that Pierre-Julien, to whom we are officially responsible, probably couldn't take me, he has a family and responsibilites of his own, etc. etc. I was just trying to get a word in and ask if he could call me a taxi. He said he would, or at least get me the number of a taxi company. Never did, of course, so I wound up asking Pierre-Julien, who promptly made the arrangements. Romain never did follow up with me, which doesn't surprise me. It doesn't seem like he's really concerned about how or if I get there.Just a small example of the lack of organization, or caring, about this group.
Well, enough about that. As I said before, the most striking thing about this whole event has been the experiences behind the festival. As Jean Roche has been quoted, the whole goal is international understanding and tolerance, and especially that children have this experience. And I have certainly seen that, in many ways. Watching the local kids interract with the performers is so touching, and watching the groups interract with the others, as well. An interesting observation about the performances - I have seen similar threads in some of the performances. Both the Auvergne local group (the one Jean Roche founded before he founded the festival) and the Yakuties do a similar piece, a dance about wolves hunting another animal. The Yakuti wolves hunt and kill a reindeer, and the rest of the herd returns to scare off the wolves. In the French version, which is quite different in style, music, costumes, it is a flock of sheep, hunted by a wolf after the shephard falls asleep, leaning on his staff. In this version, several shephards come back to hunt and kill the wolf, which they then carry off, to cheers from the audience.
The other common element that struck me is the part of a dance like the Virginia Reeel, where each couple comes under the arched arms of the first couple and then becomes part of the arch. I have nticed it in several dances here, including the group from Provence and the South African. How does something like that originate and then travel from culture to culture? The small instrument that is a two sided drum that one twirls between ones hands is another example of an element that I have seen from various cultures, including Thailand and Peru. In some cases, it seems likely or at least possible that it evolved separately. Certainly the wolf theme would naturally evolve in various cultures,and probably exists in many others. But how does a bridge under which the dancers move in pairs evolve in separate cultures? It's something I would like to know, just as I would like to know how the bread on a stick greeting came to be at the festival cafeteria!
Well, that's it from the town and festival of Gannat, a truly remarkable event that I would highly recommend!
Now, off to the barbeque, and then, Paris!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Je suis triste
In other words, I'm sad, even though I must confess I am ready for this project to end. The festival has been wonderful, I would even consider coming back to volunteer again, on my own. But this group hasn't had the same esprit that my others have, and I am not exactly sure why. I think part of it is that we are all going off in different directions each day, aside from the pre and post festival days. So there isn't the same group solidarity that there is when people are working more together.
For me, some of it has certainly been my run in with Laure. And in general, this project has been less well organized then others. Most of the volunteers seem to agree, although I am not sure how much they are referring to our group organization and how much to the festival organization. Not having food for breakfast for several days seems not to cool to me, and demoralizing it itself. It's hard to start the day off when there is no tea, bread, cookies, anything really.
With most of my other projects, I have kept in touch with some of the group. I even hope to see one or both of the leaders from last year, in Paris in the next few days. And lots of us keep in touch.
Speaking of cool, it is one of many English words that have been incorporated into French. I doubt that my fellow volunteers even realize that some of them weren't part of the language a few decades ago. I think the older French people may have given up on trying to keep English out of the French language. There are so many words, although I can't think of more than a couple at the moment. Parking, planning. And the phrase tres cool is very common. Does that ring a bell for anyone? Max, Carolina, are you out there?
A few more tidbits about the South Africans, and anything else that comes to my mind while I am writing. I've gotten to know several of the group, and especially Mighty, the leader of the group. And Kea, who I mentioned before, is very cute and sweet, but a real hot ticket on stage! A couple of nights ago, one of the girls, Caroline (pronounced like your name, Carolina, with the ee sound)asked me if I could buy her a drink at the cabaret. I said I couldn't, because I thought she was under age. Then I realized that she was asking because she didn't have any money. She told me she was 22, older than I'd realized. I then began to talk to Emily, who told me she was in her late 20's, and has a 7 year old daughter. She works as a waitress in a hotel,but is also in her last year of medical school. And she said that one of the boys, George, is in his 4th year of med school. Everyone in my group was surprised to hear how old these guys were. We had thought them to be more like 15 or 16. I wonder if it's a dietary related issues.
I am hoping to stay in touch at least with Mighty, the group leader. He and I really hit it off from the start. he is in his late 30's, married, and has 3 daughters. The oldest is 15. Two of the three dance, the other is more interested in politics he said, and sounded almost disappointed.
These guys were the stars of the festival. When they did their final performance last night, everyone was up out of their chairs, pounding on the boards with their feet, shouting bravo and hip hip hoorah and whistling. I told Mighty that I think it's their incredible enthusiasm and energy, and how happy they look dancing, that makes everyone love them so much. Even though they are incrdible dancers, there are many incredible dancers here, and I don't think any other group has gotten so much appreciation.
Mighty said to me, I think they like us. He wasn't being sarcastic, more humble than anything.
Well, Harold, the Belgium guy in our group, just poked his head in the door and said, on mange, ie, time to eat.
So, until the next time -
For me, some of it has certainly been my run in with Laure. And in general, this project has been less well organized then others. Most of the volunteers seem to agree, although I am not sure how much they are referring to our group organization and how much to the festival organization. Not having food for breakfast for several days seems not to cool to me, and demoralizing it itself. It's hard to start the day off when there is no tea, bread, cookies, anything really.
With most of my other projects, I have kept in touch with some of the group. I even hope to see one or both of the leaders from last year, in Paris in the next few days. And lots of us keep in touch.
Speaking of cool, it is one of many English words that have been incorporated into French. I doubt that my fellow volunteers even realize that some of them weren't part of the language a few decades ago. I think the older French people may have given up on trying to keep English out of the French language. There are so many words, although I can't think of more than a couple at the moment. Parking, planning. And the phrase tres cool is very common. Does that ring a bell for anyone? Max, Carolina, are you out there?
A few more tidbits about the South Africans, and anything else that comes to my mind while I am writing. I've gotten to know several of the group, and especially Mighty, the leader of the group. And Kea, who I mentioned before, is very cute and sweet, but a real hot ticket on stage! A couple of nights ago, one of the girls, Caroline (pronounced like your name, Carolina, with the ee sound)asked me if I could buy her a drink at the cabaret. I said I couldn't, because I thought she was under age. Then I realized that she was asking because she didn't have any money. She told me she was 22, older than I'd realized. I then began to talk to Emily, who told me she was in her late 20's, and has a 7 year old daughter. She works as a waitress in a hotel,but is also in her last year of medical school. And she said that one of the boys, George, is in his 4th year of med school. Everyone in my group was surprised to hear how old these guys were. We had thought them to be more like 15 or 16. I wonder if it's a dietary related issues.
I am hoping to stay in touch at least with Mighty, the group leader. He and I really hit it off from the start. he is in his late 30's, married, and has 3 daughters. The oldest is 15. Two of the three dance, the other is more interested in politics he said, and sounded almost disappointed.
These guys were the stars of the festival. When they did their final performance last night, everyone was up out of their chairs, pounding on the boards with their feet, shouting bravo and hip hip hoorah and whistling. I told Mighty that I think it's their incredible enthusiasm and energy, and how happy they look dancing, that makes everyone love them so much. Even though they are incrdible dancers, there are many incredible dancers here, and I don't think any other group has gotten so much appreciation.
Mighty said to me, I think they like us. He wasn't being sarcastic, more humble than anything.
Well, Harold, the Belgium guy in our group, just poked his head in the door and said, on mange, ie, time to eat.
So, until the next time -
Monday, July 26, 2010
Almost over
The festival is almost over; the last performance is tonite. Some of the groups have already left, the Hungarians, the Yakuties, maybe the Albanians, whom I haven't seen today, perhaps also the Slovakians. The group at lunch was much smaller than before, although the bread on a fork game still continues. I wonder if any of the groups will take this new tradition back to their countries and perpetuate it. It's such a nice one, and at the least, lots of folks here have internalized the typical French greeting of a kiss on each cheek. Also, it's morphed a bit in that people aren't always giving the bread to someone of the other gender, either because they didn't reallize, or because they just preferred, for whatever reason, to choose someone of the same sex.
Last night was the Nuit d'Esprits, Night of the Spirits. Although I was very tired, I went, with most of our group. The South Afrikans, who are they favorites of lots of us, were supposed to be performing, along with the indigenous Venezuelans. It was at a pretty little park I hadn't been to, away from the festival grounds, and was preceeded by a parade of all the groups. Waiting for them to start, I found out from others in my group that the Venezuelans weren't Venezuelan at all, but two Brazilian men from the Amazon, brought in when the Venezuelans couldn't get visas. I felt pretty stupid never having understood that. But I felt much better today when Lucie, who is French, also said she'd thought they were Venezuelans too, as it said in the program.
In any case, they arrived in full feathered regalia, lit a fire, chanted for a while, then got up a bunch of people, formed a circle, started chanting with the locals, moving around the fire in a circle. It went on for a long time. As much as I wanted to like it, it wasn't very interesting and I kept falling asleep, even having dreams. Or maybe it was a shamanistic experience. It was also very cold, and if I felt cold, I wonder how these two young Amazonians, wearing a lot of feathers but not much of anything else, felt.
My group eventually decided to leave. It turns out the South Africans never did perform last night, because it was too late and too cold! But they are performing tonight, at the last show. I'm glad. They are not just one of my favorites, but one of the favorites of the festival, and a good note on which to end things. The Maoris also seem quite popular. I like them but with some reservations, not so much about their performances as about their attitudes. I will try to save some time to write more about this, after I relate more of yesterday's experiences.
Lunch was my last meal at the school cafeteria, which ends service tonite. I have my working shift at the African restaurant at the festival tonite, so won't be at the schoo; tonite. Which is fine, especially since things are winding down and it feels a little sad there. I'm so glad to have my last working shift at the restaurant, because it's one of the best places to work. I worked there yesterday lunch, too. The restaurant is called Chez Helene, and it is indeed Helene who runs the show. She is part Togo heritage, part Niger. This is her 15th year running the restau, as they say. Helene is quite the character. She is very warm and friendly, and lound, but can also be kind of bossy. One day I asked if I could help cut the pineapple, and someone cautioned me, no, Helene likes to do that.
Yesterday, I sliced and chopped ginger for the first couple of hours. It was made into ginger juice, which is actually the ginger blended with orange juice, and maybe something else. It's pretty good. When we arrived yesterday, most of the kitchen staff were wearing dashikas and other African garments, from Helene's booth next door. So Helena (my Czech co-worker) and I were promtply brought over to the booth where about 4 women spent about the next 15 minutes discussing which outfits and hats we should wear. Helene was one of the women, though you'd think she'd be busy preparing food for the noon rush. Later, after all the ginger was done, the line was getting pretty long ordering food at the stand. I had never done the service, only the prep, so tried to get a quick crash course from Helena, the Czech volunteer. She'd only just started doing it an hour before. There were four things on the menu, Accra, which are fried fish balls, Couscous Royale, a fish dish and a chicken dish, both of whch had names but which I never internatlized. You took the order, then folks paid while you got the food on a tray for them. There was one spot where someone served up the couscous and rice, and another for the actual dishes, which were in huge pots.
So, first order, a little nervous, I went up to the counter and asked what they would like to order. The answer, 5 orders of couscous, 3 of fish, then more but I lost track after that. Luckily, one of the other servers, who is there every day, helped me with the order. After that, the rest were pretty straightforward, usually just a couple of orders at a time, not eight plus whatever else, some accra I guess, and drinks.But the line was long, and we servers were lining up at the couscous/rice and meat stands, waiting to have the plates filled. At one point there were 5 of us backed up. Finally, one of the servers said to Helene, who was discussing something with one of the cooks, and with whom it seems you don't mess with, Helene, you need to serve us. There are people waiting. Helene had seemed oblivious of both us and the customers lined up.
After the lunch rush, three hours into our four hour shift, things calmed down, and we took a break to have lunch ourselves. I'd had the chicken and couscous on my other shift earlier on. So this time I tried the fish, which I think was the best of all.
The only things we've really had to pay for here are ice cream, crepes, waffles, and fries, and of course alcoholic drinks, and even on those we buy tokens at the bar and get a discount.
I think most of the jobs here have been great, even though there have been some scheduling issues and times when we arrived and there was nothing to do for a while. But considering the scope of the festival, I find that really minor, although some people in the group have been more frustrated about that.
Most peoples' complaints seem to be about the lack of organization, and about the bathroom facilities. Personally, I find the toilet and shower facilities here far better than the one I had in Paris last year (one shower for 28 people) and in Peru, where there was one toilet-shower which was the same little outdoor stall, so only one or the other could be used at a time, and it was perhaps three feet from our dining table.
Onto some other impressions of yesterday: the Africans were drumming at the outdoor stage, when who comes along but Pepe, with his own djembe drum, and starts playing with them. This isn't a jamming session, but a performance, on a real stage, and I am impressed with his chutzpah! Pepe has intrigued me all along. He's such an interesting mix of brazen and cuddly puppy dog. I'm so mad that my camera battery chose that moment to die. Yesterday we wrote project evaluations, and since they were all on the table, some of started reading the others and guessing who had written them. For what we liked the least, Pepe said that he hasn't yet gotten a French girl to kiss him! He does,by the way, have a girlfriend back in Barcelona, but told us that while he was away, things could happen.
Oh, I forgot to add, Pepe was supposed to be on points tri (recycling stations) duty at the time.
Lots of people were dancing to the South Africans plus Pepe drumming. They ranged from older couples to children to a woman who did a combination of African anad bellydance moves, very well, although there was something a little over the top about her moves. The young French guys at the table between her and me were snickering. Then there was a boy, about 10 or 12,kind of gawky, with glasses, who got up and began imitating the dancing woman's moves, combined with the fierce face and stuck out tongue of the Maoris. I just burst out laughing.
Another image - at the African booth next to the restaurant yesterday, one of the women wanted to braid my hair. She hadn't had any customers all morining, and we were joking about how I could parade around with a sandwich sign afterwards. But I wasn't particularly interested in having cornrows or extensions. next thing I knew, one of the burly construction heads, half bald, was sitting in her seat while she added braided extensions to his sparse hair. He's well known at the festival, and lots of people were coming by and cracking jokes. I did get some good pix of that!
Back to the Maoris. I have been speaking to some of them, particularly one man, who seems friendlier than the rest. I also found out, at lunch one day, that he was married to one of the women in the group, and they have their four children with them. He told me that there are actually about 30 in the group, of which just 8 are here. He told me the group is really impressive when they all perform, which I am sure is true. They are interesting enough just the 8 of them. What is especially interesting to me is the combination of their fierce grunts and faces and moves, with the very melodic and harmonic songs they sing. I really would like to know more about what's behind both the music and the grunting and chanting, but don't know if I'll have another chance to talk to them.The music is really beatutiful, a little reminiscent to me of both Hawaiian music and gospel.
But what i've noticed most about the Maoris is that they seem somewhat chauvinistic. For instance, they mentioned to me that they have s huge festival of just Maori music, etc. every year in NZ, much bigger than the festival here in Gannat. And the tone was just a little superior, as if implying that this festival wasn't as good.
I can understand that a culture that has been repressed might naturally have a degree of attitude toward the mainstream culture that has reppressed them. But, for one thing, the people here aren't the people who repressed them.
What bothered me the most, though, is that the same man, the one who's been friendly, also said to me that his group can perform quite a variety of shows, long and short pieces, not like some of the groups here, who just do the same thing over and over again. It isn't really true, I've seen each group mulitple times, and they all have as much variety as his does. (except for the Brazilians, who really do do the same thing over and over!) But the Brazilians are some people's favorites. The variety and range is what makes the festival interesting. If was just surprised that this Maori man would express his negative feelings about other groups. That's not what this festival is about.
Well, that's it for today. A tout! (ie, a tout a l'heure, see you soon.
.
Last night was the Nuit d'Esprits, Night of the Spirits. Although I was very tired, I went, with most of our group. The South Afrikans, who are they favorites of lots of us, were supposed to be performing, along with the indigenous Venezuelans. It was at a pretty little park I hadn't been to, away from the festival grounds, and was preceeded by a parade of all the groups. Waiting for them to start, I found out from others in my group that the Venezuelans weren't Venezuelan at all, but two Brazilian men from the Amazon, brought in when the Venezuelans couldn't get visas. I felt pretty stupid never having understood that. But I felt much better today when Lucie, who is French, also said she'd thought they were Venezuelans too, as it said in the program.
In any case, they arrived in full feathered regalia, lit a fire, chanted for a while, then got up a bunch of people, formed a circle, started chanting with the locals, moving around the fire in a circle. It went on for a long time. As much as I wanted to like it, it wasn't very interesting and I kept falling asleep, even having dreams. Or maybe it was a shamanistic experience. It was also very cold, and if I felt cold, I wonder how these two young Amazonians, wearing a lot of feathers but not much of anything else, felt.
My group eventually decided to leave. It turns out the South Africans never did perform last night, because it was too late and too cold! But they are performing tonight, at the last show. I'm glad. They are not just one of my favorites, but one of the favorites of the festival, and a good note on which to end things. The Maoris also seem quite popular. I like them but with some reservations, not so much about their performances as about their attitudes. I will try to save some time to write more about this, after I relate more of yesterday's experiences.
Lunch was my last meal at the school cafeteria, which ends service tonite. I have my working shift at the African restaurant at the festival tonite, so won't be at the schoo; tonite. Which is fine, especially since things are winding down and it feels a little sad there. I'm so glad to have my last working shift at the restaurant, because it's one of the best places to work. I worked there yesterday lunch, too. The restaurant is called Chez Helene, and it is indeed Helene who runs the show. She is part Togo heritage, part Niger. This is her 15th year running the restau, as they say. Helene is quite the character. She is very warm and friendly, and lound, but can also be kind of bossy. One day I asked if I could help cut the pineapple, and someone cautioned me, no, Helene likes to do that.
Yesterday, I sliced and chopped ginger for the first couple of hours. It was made into ginger juice, which is actually the ginger blended with orange juice, and maybe something else. It's pretty good. When we arrived yesterday, most of the kitchen staff were wearing dashikas and other African garments, from Helene's booth next door. So Helena (my Czech co-worker) and I were promtply brought over to the booth where about 4 women spent about the next 15 minutes discussing which outfits and hats we should wear. Helene was one of the women, though you'd think she'd be busy preparing food for the noon rush. Later, after all the ginger was done, the line was getting pretty long ordering food at the stand. I had never done the service, only the prep, so tried to get a quick crash course from Helena, the Czech volunteer. She'd only just started doing it an hour before. There were four things on the menu, Accra, which are fried fish balls, Couscous Royale, a fish dish and a chicken dish, both of whch had names but which I never internatlized. You took the order, then folks paid while you got the food on a tray for them. There was one spot where someone served up the couscous and rice, and another for the actual dishes, which were in huge pots.
So, first order, a little nervous, I went up to the counter and asked what they would like to order. The answer, 5 orders of couscous, 3 of fish, then more but I lost track after that. Luckily, one of the other servers, who is there every day, helped me with the order. After that, the rest were pretty straightforward, usually just a couple of orders at a time, not eight plus whatever else, some accra I guess, and drinks.But the line was long, and we servers were lining up at the couscous/rice and meat stands, waiting to have the plates filled. At one point there were 5 of us backed up. Finally, one of the servers said to Helene, who was discussing something with one of the cooks, and with whom it seems you don't mess with, Helene, you need to serve us. There are people waiting. Helene had seemed oblivious of both us and the customers lined up.
After the lunch rush, three hours into our four hour shift, things calmed down, and we took a break to have lunch ourselves. I'd had the chicken and couscous on my other shift earlier on. So this time I tried the fish, which I think was the best of all.
The only things we've really had to pay for here are ice cream, crepes, waffles, and fries, and of course alcoholic drinks, and even on those we buy tokens at the bar and get a discount.
I think most of the jobs here have been great, even though there have been some scheduling issues and times when we arrived and there was nothing to do for a while. But considering the scope of the festival, I find that really minor, although some people in the group have been more frustrated about that.
Most peoples' complaints seem to be about the lack of organization, and about the bathroom facilities. Personally, I find the toilet and shower facilities here far better than the one I had in Paris last year (one shower for 28 people) and in Peru, where there was one toilet-shower which was the same little outdoor stall, so only one or the other could be used at a time, and it was perhaps three feet from our dining table.
Onto some other impressions of yesterday: the Africans were drumming at the outdoor stage, when who comes along but Pepe, with his own djembe drum, and starts playing with them. This isn't a jamming session, but a performance, on a real stage, and I am impressed with his chutzpah! Pepe has intrigued me all along. He's such an interesting mix of brazen and cuddly puppy dog. I'm so mad that my camera battery chose that moment to die. Yesterday we wrote project evaluations, and since they were all on the table, some of started reading the others and guessing who had written them. For what we liked the least, Pepe said that he hasn't yet gotten a French girl to kiss him! He does,by the way, have a girlfriend back in Barcelona, but told us that while he was away, things could happen.
Oh, I forgot to add, Pepe was supposed to be on points tri (recycling stations) duty at the time.
Lots of people were dancing to the South Africans plus Pepe drumming. They ranged from older couples to children to a woman who did a combination of African anad bellydance moves, very well, although there was something a little over the top about her moves. The young French guys at the table between her and me were snickering. Then there was a boy, about 10 or 12,kind of gawky, with glasses, who got up and began imitating the dancing woman's moves, combined with the fierce face and stuck out tongue of the Maoris. I just burst out laughing.
Another image - at the African booth next to the restaurant yesterday, one of the women wanted to braid my hair. She hadn't had any customers all morining, and we were joking about how I could parade around with a sandwich sign afterwards. But I wasn't particularly interested in having cornrows or extensions. next thing I knew, one of the burly construction heads, half bald, was sitting in her seat while she added braided extensions to his sparse hair. He's well known at the festival, and lots of people were coming by and cracking jokes. I did get some good pix of that!
Back to the Maoris. I have been speaking to some of them, particularly one man, who seems friendlier than the rest. I also found out, at lunch one day, that he was married to one of the women in the group, and they have their four children with them. He told me that there are actually about 30 in the group, of which just 8 are here. He told me the group is really impressive when they all perform, which I am sure is true. They are interesting enough just the 8 of them. What is especially interesting to me is the combination of their fierce grunts and faces and moves, with the very melodic and harmonic songs they sing. I really would like to know more about what's behind both the music and the grunting and chanting, but don't know if I'll have another chance to talk to them.The music is really beatutiful, a little reminiscent to me of both Hawaiian music and gospel.
But what i've noticed most about the Maoris is that they seem somewhat chauvinistic. For instance, they mentioned to me that they have s huge festival of just Maori music, etc. every year in NZ, much bigger than the festival here in Gannat. And the tone was just a little superior, as if implying that this festival wasn't as good.
I can understand that a culture that has been repressed might naturally have a degree of attitude toward the mainstream culture that has reppressed them. But, for one thing, the people here aren't the people who repressed them.
What bothered me the most, though, is that the same man, the one who's been friendly, also said to me that his group can perform quite a variety of shows, long and short pieces, not like some of the groups here, who just do the same thing over and over again. It isn't really true, I've seen each group mulitple times, and they all have as much variety as his does. (except for the Brazilians, who really do do the same thing over and over!) But the Brazilians are some people's favorites. The variety and range is what makes the festival interesting. If was just surprised that this Maori man would express his negative feelings about other groups. That's not what this festival is about.
Well, that's it for today. A tout! (ie, a tout a l'heure, see you soon.
.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Hip Hip Hoorah!
I've been meaning to use that as a heading for an entry here for days. It's what Jean Roche, the creator and director of the festival, who also created the Auvergne folk dance group that performs her, says, at the end of each act of every show. Actually, he says the hip, hip, and the entire audience shouts, Hurrah, me included.
The festival is winding down, and I am starting to feel sad, as I knew I would. Some of the performing groups are already leaving. Two of our group members are leaving tomorrow as well, although the rest of us still have two days here to help with the knockdown. It is truly incredible how many people I have met here, including the group members, the performers, and the volunteers, of which there are hundreds. Because our group circulates through the festival and thru the various responsibilies we have probably gotten to know more people than most volunteers, who have responsibilities in just one area.
Right now I am at the Maison du Folklore, my home away from home. It's where I have access to the computer, at least at times, and also where the kitchen and restaurant are where the repas typique have been prepared and served. It's just a quick walk from our campground, whereas the festival site is a good 20 minute walk. It's comfortable walking it night or day, no safety concerns, except the darkness if I forget to take my flashlight.
A few minutes ago, there was some group singing and playing just outside the door here. I think it must have been the Hungarians, because I had seen them loading up their vehicles a little earlier. It's just typical of the whole event, people spontaneously, or at least informally, singing in the street, promanading in their costumes outside the festival grounds, etc. And, in the streets of the small downtown, music from the festival is played continuously, as it is on the festival grounds itself. I wonder if there are people in the town that aren't interested, that don't participate in the festival at all. From the attendance and the people I've talked to, it sure seems like most people do participate. There was certainly a large crowd at the parade. There is another parade tonite, and then a Night of the Spirits at a local park, at midnight. It had been postponed from earlier in the week because of heavy rain and thunderstorms, which hopefully won't materialize tonight. We have had an incredible amount of rain, and an incredible change in the weather, really from hour to hour many days. So we've all gotten soaked at times, and some people's tents have taken in water, but luckily, not mine. The festival grounds were very muddy last night, and slippery, and I was worried about people falling. Including myself, one fall per festival is enough.
The Night of the Spirits, tonite, involves only two groups, the South Africans and the two Yanomamo Venezuela shaman boys. Should be interesting. I talked to the director of the South Africans, with whom I've become quite friendly. He says they are performing some type of initiation ritual.
Well, have to go now, time for some more delicous French cafeteria food! I hope to get back to the computer tomorrow to relate some of the day's adventures, and some of what's still to come tonite.
Back soon.
The festival is winding down, and I am starting to feel sad, as I knew I would. Some of the performing groups are already leaving. Two of our group members are leaving tomorrow as well, although the rest of us still have two days here to help with the knockdown. It is truly incredible how many people I have met here, including the group members, the performers, and the volunteers, of which there are hundreds. Because our group circulates through the festival and thru the various responsibilies we have probably gotten to know more people than most volunteers, who have responsibilities in just one area.
Right now I am at the Maison du Folklore, my home away from home. It's where I have access to the computer, at least at times, and also where the kitchen and restaurant are where the repas typique have been prepared and served. It's just a quick walk from our campground, whereas the festival site is a good 20 minute walk. It's comfortable walking it night or day, no safety concerns, except the darkness if I forget to take my flashlight.
A few minutes ago, there was some group singing and playing just outside the door here. I think it must have been the Hungarians, because I had seen them loading up their vehicles a little earlier. It's just typical of the whole event, people spontaneously, or at least informally, singing in the street, promanading in their costumes outside the festival grounds, etc. And, in the streets of the small downtown, music from the festival is played continuously, as it is on the festival grounds itself. I wonder if there are people in the town that aren't interested, that don't participate in the festival at all. From the attendance and the people I've talked to, it sure seems like most people do participate. There was certainly a large crowd at the parade. There is another parade tonite, and then a Night of the Spirits at a local park, at midnight. It had been postponed from earlier in the week because of heavy rain and thunderstorms, which hopefully won't materialize tonight. We have had an incredible amount of rain, and an incredible change in the weather, really from hour to hour many days. So we've all gotten soaked at times, and some people's tents have taken in water, but luckily, not mine. The festival grounds were very muddy last night, and slippery, and I was worried about people falling. Including myself, one fall per festival is enough.
The Night of the Spirits, tonite, involves only two groups, the South Africans and the two Yanomamo Venezuela shaman boys. Should be interesting. I talked to the director of the South Africans, with whom I've become quite friendly. He says they are performing some type of initiation ritual.
Well, have to go now, time for some more delicous French cafeteria food! I hope to get back to the computer tomorrow to relate some of the day's adventures, and some of what's still to come tonite.
Back soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)