Feb 2008

Soooo, Binche. I actually took a train to Enghien to meet up with my Belgian family, well, mainly Michel. We joined up with Thomas later. It was nice to be with someone who knew what was going on and what the traditions are. Binche is this tiny town in Belgium where the people literally live for Mardi Gras. The whole process is deeply rooted in tradition. (In fact, it has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site. Not too shabby, eh?) The way this works is as follows, in an attempted summarization. The main guys are the Gilles.

As the Carnaval de Binche website explains:

"In Binche, the Gille is allowed to wear his Gille costume on Mardi Gras only. Tradition also forbids Gilles societies to make a performance outside Binche. Carnival has its strict rules. In the very early hours of Shrove Tuesday, the Gille day starts with his dressing : l’habillage. This family ceremonial is only attended by initiates and a few invited close relatives. Later comes the tamboureur (drum), fetching his first Gille at home. Along with friends and relatives, they go from house to house to collect the other members of their society. This is called the «ramassage». At about 7 a.m., all the societies slowly start walking to gather in the centre of Binche to the tune of the drums. They go to the Town Hall, wearing their traditional wax mask. There, the jubilee of the entitled participants is celebrated."

During this whole fetching of the Gilles, people begin to follow them around. Everyone who follows is invited into the person's home where the Gille is being fetched to have a cup of champagne. Thomas and some friends were able to be a part of this, starting at four in the morning. I got in around 9 or so and the Gilles were already up and moving around, with that intriguing step that they do to the drums. The have bells everywhere, so it sounds absolutely lovely. The march around town in their societies, crossing each other in the streets, each society having to stay true to their own beat.

The Gilles cannot go anywhere without a tambour. I even saw a young Gille about 5 or 6 who was being walked back home with his own tambour following him.

They circle up in front of the town hall to be presented to the mayor. I can't remember if the masks go on before or after that, but either way they represent equality amongst the Gilles.

They also look kind of creepy from just the right angle.

The day is spent following around the Gilles, going in and out of bars, buying a round for the people you are with, which in my case were these guys:

In Belgium, cheap, good beer is not a paradox.

For lunch, we were lucky enough to be invited into one of Thomas's friend's home and ate a hot meal prepared by his mother and even had pie for dessert as it was some girl's birthday. That was fantastic.

In the late afternoon, people begin to line the streets for the parade of the Gilles.

The Gilles put on their special ostrich feather hats (not all of them wore them this year because of the wind). They work their way down the parade route throwing…. ORANGES!

There were grills on the windows to protect them.

It's like our Mardi Gras, only a lot healthier.

After all of that, I caught a train back to Enghien, slept there and headed out early the next morning to try and make a class that ended up being cancelled.

Needless to say, the rest of that week I was essentially dead. Exhaustion took over and I think I dozed off in my first class in France ever. Thankfully, it was the one lecture class I have that is huge, so it shouldn't have been too noticeable. All this and the next week was Jane's visit. However, I should do some homework before I keep on going with these marathon updates. But what you have coming up: Jane in Lille, us in Paris, Caen, Bayeux, Paris, then Matthias and I in Barcelona. No wonder I am currently looking enviously at my bed. But I promise videos once I re-remember how to do that.

As the past two years have been severely lacking in the Mardi Gras department (and I had worked my schedule so as to not have classes on Mondays or Tuesdays) I was bound and determined to celebrate it here. The Mardi Gras season is called Carnaval in France and one of the largest celebrations is just north of me (yes, there is something further north) in Dunkirk (in French, Dunkerque).

Upon my arrival in Lille, I had joined up with a group of Couchsurfers… people who are all about opening up their extra beds, sofas, or floors to travelers and are interested in partaking of this in the opposite direction. I joined the Lille group mainly to meet up with people who share common interests of travel and culture and have found an incredible group hanging around. This group planned a trip to Dunkerque to meet up with other Couchsurfers from Dunkerque and to all celebrate Carnaval together. This was utterly fantastic… my friend Cat and I met up with the surfers on Friday evening and stayed with them until Monday afternoon. Here comes the long and drawn out explanation. Although if I get lazy half way through, don't blame me.

Friday:
We met at a restaurant called l'Estaminet Flammand. It had fantastic food, such as this:

The place was nuts! People were already dressed up and would burst into song every now and then, with everyone standing up and belting out the lyrics, swaying in time. Then, you'd continue eating as if nothing had ever happened. We all ate well, introducing ourselves and meeting our hosts. Cat and I were staying at Jerome's house, or his family's vacation house, rather, as he lives in Marseille. We were there with three other surfers— a Parisian and his Austrian girlfriend and a Lillios. This house was actually in Bray Dunes, the northernmost town in France. Really cool, except none of us had cars. Ane had thoughtfully prepared this sign ahead of time.

Thankfully, we never needed it. (Although it should be noted that hitchhiking is a valid form of transportation in France.) We made it there anyway, with the help of some massive carpooling, and centered ourselves around the fireplace, as the heat wasn't really up for working all that well. That was a fun fact to discover as we went to bed. Cat and I were sharing the attic room… aka the ice palace. I can only recall one other time in my entire life where I have tried to sleep wearing all the clothing that I had with me. That time I was in a tent on the banks of the Buffalo River during spring break my freshman year. A storm had come through the first night and the temperature decided to get ridiculously cold. I put on everything I owned. Which wasn't nearly as much as what I had with me this second time… I'm talking coat, gloves, a scarf wrapped around my head… the whole nine yards. Somehow we survived the night and woke up to go and warm ourselves by the fire.

Saturday:
We headed to the beach to go and buy some fries for brunch.

(turns out that in northern France, fries can indeed constitute a full meal) When buying fries in bulk, it is better to bring your own container, which we did. This lovely pot held SO MANY FRIES.

It was ridiculous. We then made our way into Dunkerque, using the bus system that, while the hours are terribly inconvenient, was able to at least help us out for part of the time. We met up with the rest of the group and went for a bit of sight seeing around Dunkerque. The lovely Caro was our guide.

We stopped off at a market to buy costume supplies (including a lovely fur coat that I got for 15 euro. The guy made me a deal because I am from the states and Cat is from Australia.) A few hats, wigs, and umbrellas later, we saw some pretty buildings and the coast.

This boat is named Ane and is from Austria.

This girl is named Ane and is from Austria.
Obviously this photo was necessary.

We headed back to chez Jerome and cooked spaghetti for about a dozen people.

We sat around and talked for a good bit then began to get all costumed up for the bars that night. Pictures will probably do this more justice than my words ever could.

that's Cat, the Aussie who accompanied me.

Our host, Jérôme.

random pirates

Caro!

It's called a zouch and is custom...

We were joined at Jerome's by a Belgian, Turk, and a Hungarian who came out with us.

We got a ride home (hooray!) and talked for a good while.

Sunday:
I got up crazy early to go into town with the newcomers (Belgian, Turk and Hungarian). They had to leave early that day, but still wanted to see some of the festivities. I just didn't want to miss anything (is the DeCuir in me that obvious?) We all went in and wandered around, taking photos and actually running into Caro. This was great luck for me, because as my new friends left, I met up with the couchsurfers again. Jerome and his crew were late getting in (I was so glad that I had come in early at this point in time) so we went ahead and started toward the celebration.

Let's pause so that way I can attempt some sort of explanation as to what Carnaval entails. You see, it is quite different from Mardi Gras. Start with costumes. Guys as ladies and anything else utterly ridiculous. Fur coats and boas are a must.

Not the full costume, just a sampling

The parades are lead by a band, for example la bande des pêcheurs. This band will follow a set route through the streets, ending at the City Hall.

The entire time, the band plays the songs of Carnaval. There are about 40 songs (guessing) that are Carnaval songs. As a carnavaleux (person who participates in Carnaval) you are expected to know these songs and be able to sing all of the lyrics upon hearing the first note from the band. (Kind of like how if you hear the first few notes of Mardi Gras Mambo or Iko Iko everyone can join in) Most songs are a few lines long, although several are a paragraph or so. They also have movements attached to them, moving forward, backward, and jumping. This is very important because no one just watches the band (well, except for the losers in the balconies. But there is a chant for them. I didn't understand all of the words, but I got the impression that it wasn't nice.) Instead, you link arms and follow them, singing all of the songs and "marching" the entire way. The closer you are to the band, the more… intense the experience is.

Manu

lives and breathes Carnaval. So we were pretty darn close. For us shorter people, it is rather difficult, but as long as you have space to breathe, you are doing okay. People are really good about paying attention to those around them. If you were to call out "EXIT" people would immediately make enough space (or try their best to) so that you could leave. Similarly if someone were to fall to the ground, you'd hear someone yell "par terre!" and everyone would spread out as far as possible so the person wouldn't be trampled. Good to know that these safety measures are in place, but that is not to say that I wasn't afraid for my life at certain points in time. All of this advancing and then backwards marching means that people will essentially be marching on your shins. Which I guess is only fair, as I was marching on those of the person behind me. Steel-toed boots would have been a blessing. I hung on to the arm of the wonderful guy next to me who tried to make sure I stayed alive. Once I actually got separated, in the middle of the marching. This is when you understand the meaning behind all those umbrellas on really long poles.

They are the Dunkerque equivalent of Jazz Fest flags. I began searching for our umbrella in order to rejoin my group. It worked surprisingly well.

The band ends, as I said, outside of city hall. There, the more ambitious gather around to catch the herrings and the lobster that the mayor throws from his balcony. I was afraid of losing a limb, so I hung more toward the back (I know, I know, what a shame to the Mardi Gras culture, but I would like to return from France with all of my major appendages still attached to me. Call me selfish if you will.)

A short break to eat a bit, and drink something warm (for while it was hot as all can be pressed up against that many people, the second you lose that human windshield, it got quite chilly. We found the others that had also followed the band. Reunited we made our way to the gazebo that is next to good old Jean Bart's statue.

We waited for the band to arrive, which they did, and they took their place on the gazebo and began to play. This part of Carnaval is called the rigadon. Basically, the band goes through EVERY Carnaval song while the most dedicate march around the gazebo. Cat and I decided to try, only to find that, four songs, one loss of a pair of sunglasses, and two near falls later, we cried "SORTIE!" and staggered out. It was too much for us. At one point I could not breathe for a few more seconds than I would have liked. I also think that is where I lost half of a toenail, but I am not sure. Instead, we proceeded to watch from the outside, and cheered as they ended with the ballad of Carnaval… a song to Jean Bart that is sung to the tune of Amazing Grace.

Sigh. After all of this, we regroup. A few split up to go home because of work in the morning. Cat ends up catching a ride home. I decide to stick this one out. We go to a restaurant to refuel and sit down. Because at around 11 pm starts the Ball. This ball is one of many and is held in a rather large conference center like thing. There are two rooms… one with more modern music and one with Carnaval music (both live). Well, of course we go to the Carnaval one. I mean, I finally am starting to know some of the songs, I have to take advantage of this. There is another rigadon around an indoor gazebo. Thankfully, though, this one is much less violent and actually a whole lot of fun. At the end of the ode to Jean Bart, everyone is on bended knee and balloons pour out of the ceiling. The music continues and the dancing keeps going until about 2 or so, when we all meet up to get rides (YAY!) home. Once home we somehow still managed to talk for another hour or so and then crashed.

Monday:
We woke up early in order to clean and count our bruises. I caught a ride home with Antoine (the Lille couchsurfers leader) and then slept for a bit. But only a bit. I had to be in Binche, Belgium as early as possible the next morning for Mardi Gras.

Really, this was one of the more amazing Mardi Gras experiences I had ever had. The costumes and trinkets were different, but the spirit was indeed the same. Walking around eating my sandwich, I had at least 5 people wish me "bon appétit!" Poeple would randomly link arms, sing a while with you, then wish you good carnaval and be off. And couchsurfers are always lovely people.

PS I do have several videos that I hope to get up for this... but as my internet is rather sketchy at the moment, we'll have to wait on that one.

Oh dear. I haven't written anything since Christmas. Seems I am not quite so good at this update game. But to my credit, quite a lot has been going on and I have been out there experiencing instead of stuck on my computer, and that's what counts, yes? So let's see. There was a very tiny New Year's celebration. We had made plans (and found cheap tickets) to go to Brussels for the New Year's celebrations there, which apparently include an incredible fireworks display. But we wouldn't know because the entire display was cancelled due to terrorist threats. So, we hung out here. As hard as it is to believe, Lille as a city did absolutely nothing for the New Year. I ended up running around town with an Australian.

We went to a German's apartment first where she had a bunch of friends there to celebrate with her, a bunch of friends who did not speak French really at all. After some fun games amidst slight communication issues, we continued on to the apartment of an Italian where we were joined by two Frenchmen and some other Italians. Music and wine and food and lots of translating.

Then we wandered the streets a bit, giving our best wishes to all for the New Year. The actual New Year arrived in a bar joined by some not so good music but some really great people. At midnight we all toasted and then went around the entire bar giving bisous to EVERYONE.

A decent evening in all, just severely lacking in the fireworks department. We had given thought to popping some of our own but previous adventures during the celebration of a certain Guy Fawke's warned us against that path of action. (let's just say some English girls had the bright idea of popping fireworks in the city... only no one had every really popped them before. Bad combo especially if you don't want to be deported by la gendarmerie)

Everyone slowly trickled back to the residence right around my birthday, you know, that birthday that means a lot in the US but absolutely nothing here. The celebrating of the 21st began early as Matthias showed up at my door with a bottle of champagne and continued on in a lovely fashion.

Homemade spaghetti for supper, once again accompanied by the lovely Matthias. The evening involved a number of people in my room, each arriving with their own wine bottle and then king cake for everyone involved. I was incredibly excited to be able to hold on to that part of my birthday tradition… a king cake instead of a birthday cake. Although they look slightly different here.

Hey, at least we recycle.

After my birthday, we kind of began classes. I say kind of because it still depended on each professor whether or not the classes met and even then the classes were only to tell us what would be on exams. Oh, exams. I only took two actual exams, which are much, much harder when you have only had six weeks of actual instruction. In some classes it worked out pretty decently. Take phonetics, for example. We only had four sessions and in December the professor handed out a packet with our final attached. I got a 17 out of 20 on that final, which he handed back with this look of pleasant surprise. (It should be mentioned here that the French grading system is completely different than that of the US. They do not deal with percentages, rather with scores out of 20. A ten is passing, a twelve is, to quote ISEP, "quite good," a fourteen is good and a sixteen is very good. Keep that one in mind.)

In other cases, the severe lack of class time was a definite disadvantage. Take my class in Picard Literature. As I don't speak Picard, I had been relying on the instruction part of this class in order to really pull me through. That and the professor and I had an agreement that he would let me do a take home exam so that way I could have as much time as I needed. Instead, I found myself in an amphitheatre, holding the piece of paper that asked me to translate an 8 stanza poem from Picard into standard French, then analyze it and finish by describing the specific characteristics that make it Picard. In two hours. Needless to say, I was one of the last turning in my paper at the time limit. I got a 10. I think the professor passed me because he felt sorry for the poor foreign kid. Eh, I did what I could.

All in all, the grades look decent. All passing, at the very least. After the stressful period of exams came that other stressful part of choosing classes. Unlike Hendrix where everything is so conveniently located either in a paper booklet or online (all in the same place! What a novel idea!), here, as I might have mentioned previously, everything is scattered EVERYWHERE. Some departments even started a full two weeks after others, which is an issue when the whole idea is that you go to a bunch of classes and decide which ones to keep and drop. I think I ended up okay this semester… taking a lot of part two's of the classes from last semester, which is probably best considering they didn't really occur all that often last time. New additions include:

- Chinese— I took this for a year at Hendrix and loved it, but it didn't fit in with my schedule first semester. Good thing they didn't advance all that far, so I can jump right in this semester.

- FLE Didactique— FLE stands for French as a Foreign Language. It's an okay class, taught by an Italian lady. It's a class on teaching… yup, you guessed it, French as a foreign language. Of course, as an international student, I have a unique perspective in a class like this.

- Pouvoir des mots— The full title is something crazy long, about the power of words and vocabulary and whatnot through the evolution of the French language from Old French to now. It is my really nerdy class, as I was unbelievably excited about it and worked my entire schedule around that class. It is also the only lecture I have taken here (normally every unit is composed of a lecture [CM] and a smaller class meeting [TD]. A lot like the journey's class for freshman, now that I think about it.)

- Folk danse! This is quite the fun class, and it has a lot to live up to when you consider that I took fencing last semester. But when you learn dances such as click me! I mean really, what more could you possibly want?

Among the other changes of this semester would be the fact that I actually have classes. I have occasionally found myself thinking, "This whole class thing is so inconvenient to my trip-planning." Honestly.

We have sprinkled fun things throughout class time, though, no worries. Take our giant breakfast for example. One Saturday morning we ate breakfast for four hours or something along those lines, everyone bringing a dish and eating in courses. Pajamas required. I brought beignets (thanks family!) and grits. The beignets were a big hit. The grits caused general confusion. Ah, well.

I just couldn't resist the irony in that second photo.

I also ran to Amiens to see Samarabalouf in concert. I had seen them play at Festival International in Lafayette a few years ago and saw that they would be playing decently close. So David and I caught a train out, waited around a beautiful Cathedral

met up with Thibault, a guy who went to the immersion program at Sainte-Anne with me 5 years or so ago. He gave us a place to stay, which was nice. The concert was lovely and we left with the early train back out for class. (For all the Lafayette readers, Samarabalouf is playing Festival again this year, as well as the Duhks. YOU SHOULD GO… it'll be great.)

Then came… MARDI GRAS! Keep your eyes peeled for the soon to come post. (JEEZ I should update more often)