I met my friend
Jeanmarie in 1980 in while attending the university in London. We were living next door to each other in a
convent of all places. At the
Convent of Maria Assumpta, the rent was cheap, you could have your own room, it
was much more fun to cause trouble, and it took Jeanmarie and I about 5 minutes
to become fast friends. We have
managed to see each other almost every year since then. We’ve met in Aspen, in
Barbados, in Arizona, at each other’s weddings, and at each other’s homes. For
the past 15 years or so, she has come to Wisconsin in July to attend Country
Jam, one of our big, summer music festivals. We’ve only missed one or two
years, and even though neither of us are country music fans anymore, we still
try to make the Jam. It’s tradition, after all.
Tradition was going to
have to be broken this year because, of course, I’m closer to the Rhone River
than the Chippewa River. And money is tight all around; not enough for either
of us to make a long journey to see each other. However, a few weeks ago,
Jeanmarie sent me an email that basically said “To hell with it…I’m coming to
France in July!” Yippee skippee…. really?
The tiny problem with
her visit is I’ve have been inundated with visitors since April and have
squeezed every dime out of my savings in order to travel with them. I just
couldn’t afford any more sightseeing, tours, hotels or meals out and told her
so. Luckily, she was in the same boat and we decided to use my apartment in Aix
as a base, use our pooled money to rent a car, and make day trips to nearby
treasures, which are plentiful here in Provence.
I began researching
things to do in the area and found an extensive list of summer festivals. They
included Jazz Festivals, opera festivals, tango festivals, gypsy festivals,
wine and craft festivals, a melon festival and…yessireebob…. a country
festival! My mouth dropped open as I read the description in the English
version:
Well, of course we had
to go, mostly because I needed a hot dog! So, two days after she arrived, on a
beautiful Sunday afternoon, we ventured to the tiny village of La Roque
d’Antheron, which is apparently much more famous for it’s classical piano
festival in August… and we walked into another world. Actually, it was the world we had left
on the other side of the ocean.
We meandered past the line-up of American Mustangs,Chevys, and Harleys, sauntered through the market and sorted through the leathers, chaps, garish colored cowboy hats, sterling silver jewelry and mini donuts. We stopped at the beverage truck under the giant American flag to order a beer (of course wine was on the menu but I did not see a single person order it) as we wandered toward the stage. We nodded to the tattooed bikers, dressed in black leather, and skirted the line dancers, adorned in boots, hats and assorted American flag attire. I took the photo of a man in his green John Deere hat, which brought on a long conversation in broken English about his love of country music, various country singers and his 2 trips to Nashville.
We listened to the
bluegrass band, a rockabilly band and good old country band, whose lead singer
was Australian. It took me awhile
to realize he was speaking in English between the songs until he shouted to the
crowd, “You havin’ fun yet?!?!?
Complete silence. I
thought, man, this must be a tough gig. He tried again.
“Ça va bien?”
A roar went up from the
crowd. This guy’s done his research.
When he began the
choruses of both“Take Me Home Country Road” and “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”,
the crowd sang along enthusiastically. I had to giggle because I’m sure most
didn’t know what they were singing.
It’s sort of like singing Frère Jacques as a child. You sing it because
it’s fun, but you don’t know what the words mean and most likely are
pronouncing them in a way that would make a French speaker wince.
We spent the entire
afternoon and evening drinking beer, eating hot dogs (still served on a
baguette and no pickle relish in sight) hamburgers, and roasted corn, wiping
the dust from our eyes kicked up by the energetic dancers, hiding from the sun
under the giant Platane trees, and feeling just a little appreciated for being
American.
I don’t know where
Jeanmarie and I will meet next year, but I am confident that we’ll figure out
something. However, I’m not sure if Country Jam is ever going to cut it again.
And word has it on the Country Musique circuit here, that there is an even
bigger and better festival near Paris in August. I gotta get me a hat!
How much fun was that!
ReplyDeleteWhat a "hoot"!! Great picture too! You two don't look a day older than the "convent days" either! I am soooooo excited to see you two!! XO Vickels
ReplyDeleteBTW, for some reason this picture reminded me of a crazy trip to Aspen (post London) to give you an assist to get back to EC.. in a big 'ol black caddy that Paula (miss you, Polly) inherited.. lots of hats and boots then too. ;)
Who knew? To think that what I try to escape from in Missouri would draw crowds in France!
ReplyDeleteIt really is all in our perspective, isn't it? Love the post, love the photos, and especially love the guy in the John Deere hat.
Thanks, Delana!
This is hysterical! I'm trying to envision such a thing going on in any of the little French villages we visited and it just cracks me up. And I love bluegrass! And sorry to be "unAmerican" on the 4th of July, but I'll take some pate or a crepe over that hot dog any day. :-)
ReplyDeleteDelana,
ReplyDeleteI love the photo of you and your friend here. Fabulous!
And as for your amorous neighbors, ugh!. I feel for you. You made me laugh though. That's making lemonade from lemons.
a
JoAnna: It was just a little bit surreal!
ReplyDeleteVickie:The third member of the Maria Assumpta convent clan who will be here soon...yep, I'm still most comfortable in a well-worn pair of cowboy boots.
Jo: Yep, it was much more fun here than it was in the U.S.
Sherrie: I know...but when you can't get a hotdog with relish...that's all you really want! And I love blue grass too.
Aidan: A friend actually superimposed this photo on the cover of one of the French Country CDs we bought. We're in like Flynn!
That sounds surreal, but fabulous! And I love, love, love the saying on your blog header.
ReplyDeleteWhat an adventure!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE country music and festivals. There's one that we go to every year in a town called Ste. Tite (true story).
Being a French town (in Quebec, Canada), I think that Greg and I are the ONLY English speaking people there and it is SO MUCH FUN!!! They close off the streets and people eat and drink all over the little country town.