It's not just the Olympics...

Temperatures are soaring , and all over France people are celebrating summer. Last evening, in Paris crowds thronged the banks of the Seine to witness the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. But please don't think that all is quiet elsewhere. Many communities , be they tiny villages or large towns, will be holding a summer fete. What's more, there is the Fete de la Musique in late June, when music venues spring up all over towns the length and breadth of France. And then again, on the 'Quatorze Juillet(Bastille Day) a multitude of outdoor parties and firework displays take place. It is clear that France knows how to enjoy itself when summer arrives.

Whatever the British press may say, my French neighbours feel very proud of the Olympics opening ceremony on the banks of the Seine. Everyone seems to be talking about it. In spite of the rain, they felt that it was a glorious occasion. "They are just jealous," one neighbour commented, "because theirs was not as good as ours. "

In our village of St Etienne de Gourgas, things are no different. We combined our Bastille Day celebrations a day early on the 13th July ,with 'La Fete de Diane,' which celebrates the goddess of hunting. Sadly, we can no longer enjoy the customary Bastille Day firework display, because of the increased risk of forest fire, although our neighbouring village of Soubès and the town of Lodève held them as usual. But that does not mean that our villagers do not have fun. The evening begins with a free 'apero,' courtesy of the maire. From whisky to wine, the drinks flow. Then everyone is seated at long trestle tables, and the meal begins. A large fire has been burning nearby where mussels are cooked over the flames, and served to everyone with an accompanying sauce: a local speciality known as a 'brasucade de moules.' Apart from this, sanglier is the order of the day, courtesy of the local hunters. This evening we are served a delicious locally made sanglier paté, followed by a daube(casserole) de sanglier, cheese and dessert. In past years whole sanglier have been roasted on a spit. We gathered around a table alongside our neighbours from the maison forestiere. It was a happy , social occasion, and for once I didn't have a word to say against the hunters!

Scenes from the Past

As summer progresses , the fun will continue, especially around the coast where tourists gather. Jazz concerts and other music events are held in the beautiful open air 'Theatre de la Mer' in Sète. Also water jousting competitions will draw large crowds here and at other towns such as Mèze and Frontignan in August.

Just one plea ...

Whilst I love the relaxed , outdoor mood of summer , let me just make one plea. I love music of most kinds, but please please let there be some control over how and where it is broadcast. Moreover, where music has a strong bass beat, the volume should always be controlled so that those who do not wish to listen to it , are not forced to do so. Herein lies a little tale...

...It was a beautiful peaceful summer's day. Last Friday, we had crossed the étang in our boat to spend the weekend relaxing in Bouzigues after a difficult week. Everything was perfect as we swam from the bathing platform by the stone jetty, and watched the sailing boats moored opposite us. Their masts seemed to dissolve into the waters beneath them, like a Dufy painting. That weekend they were to hold the village fete, we learned, but everything seemed pretty much as normal as people strolled around the shore, and dined in the local restaurants.

We had enjoyed a perfect day, having met friends for lunch , walked and swam and were now feeling at peace with the world as the sun began to set over a distant hill. And then the lights came on in the nearby dodgem cars which had been erected temporarily for the fete, and they began to broadcast loud music . But this music was no gentle French air, or quiet modern ballad. This music had a strong insistent bass beat that penetrated one's very skull. And it went on relentlessly as the suns rays intensified and we began to feel sleepy, so that all conversation or coherent thought was rendered impossible. "What do the local residents think about this?" we wondered, as in desperation we released our mooring and set course towards Sète on the other side of the étang. After a peaceful evening cruise, just before darkness fell, we returned to our own mooring on the canal ,where we spent a quiet night. The only sound we heard as we woke the next morning was the quacking of the ducks.