fest noz.

this week, i was invited to a fest noz. what's that, you ask? well, it's a traditional breton festival, with lots of dancing & drinking. good times.

earlier this week, i received a phone call from one of the couchsurfers in town, and he asked me if i'd be up for a sortie to one of these fest noz. comme toujours, i said, "pourquoi pas?" why not take this opportunity to explore a little bit of the local culture?

this particular fest noz was in celebration of the fete des forgerons (blacksmiths) & the patron saint eloi (which also happened to be the name of my date for the party). it took place in a tiny little village called plougonver (in the heart of tregor), really in the middle-of-nowhere, and while i knew the basics, i had no idea what to expect.

the evening started with aperatifs of hot toddies at an old farm house of eloi's friends (one of which, thomas, couldn't wait to show the american his new obama hoodie... haha). after some warm conversation & good fun, the four of us piled into the car & headed off to the fest. when we got there, i knew right away it was going to be a good time. thomas bought the first round of delicious breton beer (rousse, or amber), which almost rivals some of the micro-brews at home. we then had a stick-to-your-ribs dinner (you've got to eat well if you're going to party all night), of an onion & garlic soup, tartiflette (a ham, cheese, potato gratin), endives, & yogurt & cinnamon dessert, all of which were accompanied by good red wine. we ate dinner with several families with very small children... one little curly-blonde haired three-year-old was trying to drink yogurt out of a mug & had quite the mustache... sooo smiley!

lots of warm sweaters, big beards, smiley faces... and i got the impression that most of the people were from the village or at least close by. the ages ranged from infant to great-grandfather, and everyone danced. the songs were in breton, and i'd say at least half the people there had some knowledge of the language (being what would one would probably consider a 'dying' language, this was quite surprising, especially that it was thriving among the younger generation). it was refreshing to see teenagers proud of their heritage, quite different than the ones at home who can't wait to escape their parents' supervision. i even ran into one of my students (who i later found napping... i guess he had had too much excitement for one night).

as soon as we finished dinner, the tables & chairs were moved, to make way for the dancers & musicians. it was fine that i didn't know any of the dances, and i caught on quickly (later, people were quite surprised to find out that was my first try at breton dancing). my friend, eloi, taught me the names & counts of some, and the history of the dances, though i found that talking & trying to learn new dances at the same time was quite a challenge. many of the dances were held in order to stamp the ground to make a firm surface on which to build a house or farm. during the group dances, you'd either hold hands & link arms, or lock pinkies with the people next to you. some were definitely more complicated than others, and while it looked like people were all just walking in a circle to the music being played, it proved to be more challenging (and more tiring) than it looked at first glance. some dances were couples, and there were times that it seemed like no one, except the older people, knew what was going on. people really got into it, and there were even a few dances where the people who were singing were part of the dance, so we all started whooping & hollering. nevertheless, there was an overwhelming feeling of togetherness throughout the night.

i saw a man that stereotypically fits what i will always picture in my head as a french countryman. spindly in stature, sporting fitted black pants, & a red plaid flannel shirt. a face made older & browner by the sun & the wind & the sea. a well-worn black felt beret perched atop a head of wildly frizzy dark hair, with tinges of silver. glassy, dark, almost-crazy, but friendly marble-eyes. the only thing he was lacking was a hand-rolled cigarette.


while this isn't my video, or even from the fest that i went to, it'll kinda give you an idea of what my night was like.

the music is difficult to describe here, included many different groups & instruments, and seemed to be quite a melange of genres. there was strong celtic influence, but it also had folk-ish undertones. i saw clarinets, guitars (of some sort), accordions, bagpipes, bass, flutes, and the list goes on. a few rousses later, we went outside to check out the forging that was happening, and tried our hand at some breton games (tabletop dutch shuffleboard type games). i lost... both times. the forging outside was held in a tent, and people of all ages were able to try to shape the hot metal using anvils & hammers. needless to say, eloi & i were a little worried about the kids playing with red-hot iron. at the end of the night, we saw the bouquet of twisting vines & leaves that was made during the day out of horseshoes & such... quite pretty. i enjoyed the mingling & the company of the musicians & the people who had invited me (hopefully eventually new friends) to take part in the festivities. i even got to hug on a farm dog with a muddy nose and white feet named chausettes (or socks)... i tried to explain that my reason for doing so was because i missed my pooches at home, but i think only the little ones truly understood.

the dancing went well into the night, and i believe that we left around three o'clock. i was told that with the music & the crowd, this fest noz was more traditional than most, and i felt lucky to have been part of it all. on our way out, traipsing over the crunchy, frosted grass, i spotted a falling star or an étoile filante and made a wish. it was a fantastic night.