The weather turned out beautifully. Nice sunny day and a mild temperature. People came in droves to fulfill what the organizers had billed it. A festival of colour.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
After the parade, time to clean up
The parade was a typical small town affair. All the folklore groups from the surrounding towns and villages went out on display. Some with more enthusiasm than others. There were a few horses which took park. At the end of the parade came the high tech and very effective cleaning team.
Scenes of the morning
The weather had begun to clear up. People started to come out in droves and the smell of food drifted through the air.
Violent weather creates havoc
By early evening, the weather had changed from the humid 30° down to a cool 18° but not without a hailstorm, thunderstorm and anything else that felt like coming down from the heavens. The effect of this was that the bal populaire, being held in the elegant surroundings of the chapiteau, scene of the previous night's Ballermann scene, was canceled.
Smiler, who's drinking establishment is situated directly between the elegant chapiteau and our abode probably had the € signs in his eyes because he could, very conveniently, come to the rescue with his spontaneously planned substitute program - another DJ of some description pumping the bass. The masses flocked, and although the festivities finished at 2am, some stragglers were seen crawling out of the woodwork at about 5am.
The morning began quietly albeit the sound of a street cleaning machine and a couple of youths still in party mode.
Gradually, things began to kick into life. M Rebert, the Maitre Choclatier, sporting a bright orange shirt under his white jacket and also wearing white trousers, was seen entering his back door carrying a wicker basket, probably delivering one of his delicacies to some lucky person. The local hobo scurried around.
Then the Romanians arrived. In the form of a delivery van advertising the foodstuffs from Strasbourg. They populated the little huts on the square outside our salon. Slowly, the locals emerged to get their baguettes.
And the clouds began to form.
The program had stipulated that we were to witness some "Animations Folkloriques". And they arrived, at about 10:30, ready to start at 11:00. And then it rained, it poured, it drenched.
They did the best they could, the dances didn't take place because it would have been to dangerous on the stage. But a little mini parade kept the tradition.
Folklore is of course a matter of taste. Outside it's own geographic and ethnic region it may look a little odd, out of place. It's different on the home ground. And what is good to see is that, even in the 21st. century, how many young children, teenagers and of course the adults, uphold these traditions and do not push them away for the junk the media driven society has to otherwise put up with.
Smiler, who's drinking establishment is situated directly between the elegant chapiteau and our abode probably had the € signs in his eyes because he could, very conveniently, come to the rescue with his spontaneously planned substitute program - another DJ of some description pumping the bass. The masses flocked, and although the festivities finished at 2am, some stragglers were seen crawling out of the woodwork at about 5am.
The morning began quietly albeit the sound of a street cleaning machine and a couple of youths still in party mode.
Gradually, things began to kick into life. M Rebert, the Maitre Choclatier, sporting a bright orange shirt under his white jacket and also wearing white trousers, was seen entering his back door carrying a wicker basket, probably delivering one of his delicacies to some lucky person. The local hobo scurried around.
Then the Romanians arrived. In the form of a delivery van advertising the foodstuffs from Strasbourg. They populated the little huts on the square outside our salon. Slowly, the locals emerged to get their baguettes.
And the clouds began to form.
The program had stipulated that we were to witness some "Animations Folkloriques". And they arrived, at about 10:30, ready to start at 11:00. And then it rained, it poured, it drenched.
They did the best they could, the dances didn't take place because it would have been to dangerous on the stage. But a little mini parade kept the tradition.
Folklore is of course a matter of taste. Outside it's own geographic and ethnic region it may look a little odd, out of place. It's different on the home ground. And what is good to see is that, even in the 21st. century, how many young children, teenagers and of course the adults, uphold these traditions and do not push them away for the junk the media driven society has to otherwise put up with.
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