Monday 15 August 2016

La fête des fêtes


THE FLYER



There are more fiestas along the two banks of the Bidasoa than one can shake a stick at.  When I was here in the winter they came thick and fast, every weekend.  Since I've been back the same pattern continues: the festival of sardines, of tuna, of octopus, the fireman's ball (something a little Pythonesque about that one?). Two weeks ago I was with Jakob on the other side of the river for the Fiesta de Compostella.  That was impressive. Little did I suspect that this is the 'big one'.  

DAY 1 

There are some things that I have learnt about Basque festivals.  The first is that all the catering and 'beer- tent' concessions are given to local associations.  These are mostly, but not exclusively, 'musical associations', though they also include rowing, other sports groups and many others.  The result is fair prices and conviviality. No-one tries to make a fast buck here.   (I could, and should, comment on how  Vriejheidsedag in Wageneingen has been completely taken over by commercial interests, to the point you can no longer bring drinks into the city centre on 5/5.  There is a good point in banning glass and bottles, but banning cans and plastic bottles is just pandering to the interests of the evil-Heineken franchises.  The same is true of Cafe Couleur.  I didn't go in my last two years in Brussels because of their  policy of over-protecing their francishees).  At the reggae-on-the-beach festival wto weeks ago Jakob commented that we were buying the cheapest drinks he has ever enjoyed at a festival in Europe (and he goes to Serbia and Poland often).   Full marks to the Basques on this one.

Second there is an unspoken dress code, though outsiders will be lost trying to understand it.  In Bayonne and Pamplona it's red scarves or sashes, so I hunted something out from one my cupboards.  I assumed the Basque country is relatively homogenous: only to find out to my embarrasement that blue is the colour of choice in Hendaye.Faux pas numero uno.(tbc)

 


 

 



Ah here we go - we can do this all evening....






Day three

Nearly everyone is dressed in 'national costume'.  Except it's not 'national costume'.  Its extremely specific to Hendaye.  This is the traditional peasant cothing.  Note the shoes that the little boy is wearing.  Everyone and his brother was sporting these. 


Basques: Catholic and Pagan at the same time. I want to know the story behind this.  Six hours ago these guys were probbably celebrating Mass. 


The more-refined dancers at the head of the procession



And a touch of tradition. The school ma'am?


Carnival by the sea

Hendaye has at least twelve marching bands.  For a town of around 15,000 people that's pretty incredible. Here comes the first!


The dancing gets a bit less decorous (but everyone seems to be having fun!). 


'And you don't cheek you mother like that'. 


Hawaii style.
 



Les rapaces!


These people might have been drinking since breakfast-time.




'Let's see if there is enough alcohol to keep us going through the afternoon'.
 


If not we're going to send someone across the river to pick up some more.




After all the fun and games were over I headed to the beach to cool down in the ocean.  The water was perfect, barely a ripple.  I had a bottle of wine in a chiller, enjoyed a doobie and stayed until the sun went down and it started to get cold. For once in my life I felt really present, not thinking backwards or forwards but just being where I was.  Eventually I found my bike with the intention of heading home but instead ended up at a party on a large-open balcony overlooking the sea, picking up a Djembe and drumming a thank you to the ocean, lindy-hopping with elegant black girls, eating roast duck and quaffing pastis.  The night ended  horizontal on a sleeping bag on the sand watching the fireworks and then hoping to see the Perseids.


Hendaye Je t'aime.  Where's the Paracetemol? Where's my bike? How do I get the sand out of my sheets?  Where's that girl's e-mail address?


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