One of the attractions of southern france for tourists are the marchés nocturnes. Not so much a market as a communal dinning experience. Local traders drive their mobile kitchens to their nearest market square, the Mairie provides long tables and benches, and uses the fees for a ‘pitch’ selling food, to pay for some entertainment. The end result is a convivial evening with good music at very little cost.

You take a basket with your own plates and cutlery, a bottle of wine if you want, and buy the rest of your meal according to your pocket. 2 Euros for a plate of chips and mayonnaise, to as much as 15 euros for a magnificent duck breast barbecued on the spot to perfection, or merely sit and enjoy the spectacle and spend no money whatsoever.  It accommodates everyone, from the local hot shot lawyer to a young unmarried Mother on benefits with a tribe of children.  I can’t think of any social event in England that is quite so ‘inclusive’ – with the exception of Guy Fawkes night bonfire parties – even those usually involve an entry fee or a personal invitation.

One of the most popular sources of entertainment for a hard-up Mairie, is amongst the troubadours. Unemployment benefit is strictly work record related here. You have to have worked for two years to get anything at all, and after that how long and how much is related to your work record. The message is strictly – if you want money, find something useful to do. For some, those who want to live an alternative lifestyle that doesn’t involve regular work, those we would loosely describe as ‘new age travellers’ in Britain, that involves training as a street entertainer. It does involve training too – not just a matter of saying you are a juggler – you have to prove it to a certain standard to a committee. Once accepted by the committee, you are thereafter ‘subsidised’ by the government, and on call to any Mairie that is looking for entertainment. A benefits package for want of a better phrase – but one that involves giving something back to the community. You can grow your hair into dreadlocks, paint yourself with blue woad, no restrictions whatsoever – but if you want the taxpayer to support these choices, you give something back in return. Voila! A useful member of the community.

Some of the most popular night markets are those held in which ever village is hosting the Félibrée that year, for the simple reason that these villages are always highly decorated. So popular, that many villages get out their félibrée decorations year after year…the entire village will be festooned with literally thousands of hand made flowers. I helped make the flowers for the félibrée in Beaumont-du-Périgord  a couple of years ago, and a fascinating experience it was too. Long benches were in the shade of the Mairie, and every afternoon everyone who had nothing to do would gather and join the production line transforming the ‘bits’ stamped out to form the handles of plastic carrier bags into garlands of wisteria. Wisteria was the chosen flower by virtue of the fact that the local carrier bag manufacturer had switched to purple and green that year…! Earlier years efforts had been in yellow and green, transformed to daffodils, and pink and green – some rather fetching roses. When I say the village was festooned – I mean it. That volunteer production line had made an incredible 155,000 flowers! It is not all hard work – the Mairie provide refreshments, and the gossip is an education in brushing up your vernacular French.

It was through that gossip that I discovered the meaning of the Félibrée. It isn’t just a colourful ceremony for the tourists, any more than Guy Fawkes fireworks are – in fact it has a great deal in common with those fireworks. It is a symbolic political rebuke. The Félibrée is named after the Félibrige, a group of intellectuals who sought to revive the southern French Occitan language. ‘French’, as it is taught in British schools, is a Parisian invention, the language of northern France. It is only for the past 100 years or so that it has been universally imposed – by law – on the whole of what is now known as ‘France’. The people of southern France speak Provençal, Auvergnat, Limousin, Languedocian, Gascon and Vivaro-alpine – all dialects of Occitan. So much so, that it is one of the duties of the Mairie to read or write letters if any of the local inhabitants have need to communicate with their political leaders or bureaucrats in Paris!

When it became against the law to promote another language other than Parisian French, the Félibrige movement was forced underground. Only the accoutrements remain – look around you and you will see the Occitan symbol on banners flying from windows; the tradition of flowers decorating the village, even the troubadours joining hands with the locals to dance in a circle, it is all a calculated, if muted, snub to rule from Paris.

Last week as we ate in the marché I listened to an English lady declaring in a loud voice (why do they all have voices that could quell the Sepoy Mutiny?) denouncing one of her guests who had obviously made some political comment – ‘Oh God, it is so good to get away from politics for a couple of weeks, do shut up’ – and reflected that actually she was surrounded by politics. In fact she was sitting in the middle of a French political demonstration.

A very French political demonstration – that came accompanied by good wine, good food, and the smiling faces of every generation.

Those flowers aren’t there just to provide shade.

Peter Melia August 24, 2013 at 22:18

Picky I suppose, but I thought it was the Napoleon who imposed the uniform
language we now call French.

Moor
Larkin August 20, 2013 at 22:43

*looks at photograph*
I’ve seen streets/squares decorated in that manner
in Spanish territories. Very pretty. I attended what was evidently the
“evening do” of one once, and as a tourist had little idea of what was going
on, but didn’t want to leave. There were people dancing and singing on stages
and everything.

ubermouth August 20, 2013 at 11:34

Fascinating glimpse into an old,traditional slice of life in France that
few of us get to experience. I thoroughly enjoyed this article.

JimmyGiro August
20, 2013 at 11:03

How could I forget this gem:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-hampshire-23496088

[Council bod, clearing the road to hell]: “I am sure, though, that the
teacher clearly had the best of intentions for the health and safety of their
students.”

It’s all about magic wands of ‘certification’ and licensing; I’m sure
Harold Shipman would have had a few of them.

Ms Mildred August 20, 2013 at 09:26

The last popular village fete we accidentally ‘attended’, this year, was so
cluttered up with cars and fenced about with diversions we ended up miles out
of our way. There is lovely traditional one at Seend Cleeve in Wiltshire.
Smashing. Flower show in one hall. Real beers in another. Home made cakes and
goodies in the sports pavilion. Good parking off road and lots of games and
events on the field, and it never rained either. Children allowed to enjoy
themselves and not clung onto by paranoid adults. Some annoucements from the
local squire to collect young Sam from the clutches of safe middle aged ladies
in the First Aid tent. We had many trips to France in our younger days. I
always thought they were/are much better at AMBIENCE than UK has ever
been…well they invented the word after all.

Ted Treen August 19, 2013 at 21:47

Sounds absolutely delightful and so civilised – with one possible
exception: …chips and mayonnaise.

I regret I would leave the mayonnaise untouched for a bottle of good brown
sauce – preferably “Daddie’s”

Still, à chacun son goût…

Ho Hum August 20, 2013 at 01:02

Noooooooooooo! I first encountered the delectation of chips and
mayonnaise as something practised by my first ever crush. Her name was
Vivienne. Her mother was French, her father English, but with a French
surname. I was about 10 and she must have been 11 or so. I experimented, and
was hooked for life. Sadly, she moved away, but her legacy has been more
than 50 years of unremitting pleasure to the tastebuds.

DtP August 20, 2013 at 08:42

Perhaps that was her role in life – to take young, impressionable boys
and turn them to believe that deconstructed potato salad is an acceptable
snack rather than subsistence level nutrition thereby hoarding more HP for
herself? It’s a cruel and ruthless confidence trick. Mind you, I seem to
have developed a passive addiction to Reggae Reggae sauce so i’m in no
place to moralise.

Countryman August 19, 2013 at 20:37

Every year now, in our very English village, we have a summer party in our
village park. The park is decorated, there is a communal barbeque – bring your
own food – beer is available, there are games, and a band. This year, the
weather was forecasted to be bad, so the landlord of the village pub offered
his garden instead, protected by a marquee donated by a village business. We
still had the barbeque with our own but shared food, and a great band, and
some brought their own booze. And it was and always will be completely
inclusive; you just should live in the area or be a friend of someone living
in the area. No council is involved or invited and we don’t go seeking their
money; our organisation, which might appear a bit haphazard to visitors, works
(and we do H&S by using our common sense). You don’t have to be in France
to have a real community event – you just need a real community.

The Blocked Dwarf
August 19, 2013 at 18:42

Sweet Jesus, can you imagine what the Brits would make of it (assuming we
managed to hold it on the one dry evening we get a year)? The MumsNetzis, the
fASHitos, the RSPCA, the NSSPCC would all have field days….and that’s even
before Health & Safety got anywhere near it. Have all the troubadours been
CRB’d back to the womb? Is ALL the food labelled ‘Nut Free’? Will CHEEELDREN
actually see people smoking, drinking and , heaven forfend, eating fatty food?
Will every trader be fair trade organic and Jamie Oliver approved? And what
about those poor mites whose Asthma is triggered by flowers?

The Daily Xenophobe could get front page CAMPAIGNS FOR SOMETHING TO BE DONE
out of it for a month! “Cameron MUST, for the sake of the children, ban
unpasteurized Camembert at the Night Market (with Friendly Support Of Your
Local Fake Charity)”.

Anna
Raccoon August 19, 2013 at 19:45

I have to admit, that one of my pleasures in life is blowing smoke over
the nearest Brit – it is so satisfying – that sort of Hamlet moment…..

therealguyfaux
August 20, 2013 at 02:18

I just wish I could remember the humourist (Mark Twain, perhaps?) who
expressed a solicitude for the welfare of children who might attend a
gathering in a town square.

He advised that it was never a good idea to bring children to a lynching,
as the people who conduct those sorts of things are usually frenzied and
more than likely not-half intoxicated, and are likely, whilst hanging the
poor bastard, to use the Lord’s name in vain. One should never subject one’s
children to having to hear that sort of foul language.

charlotte August 19, 2013 at 18:07

I like the sound of just taking plates and paraphernalia along with food
provided. Don’t suppose they wash up the plates for you as well?
The
village fete where I live was held on May day weekend and again on spring bank
holiday. Only the May day fete survives now. It was something I really looked
forward to but I don’t bother going since the car boot sale was introduced and
commercial sellers were invited along. The fete was a small affair of WI
stall, a Mothers Union stall, Guides and Scouts along with the local fire
brigade who let children into the engine and plant stalls, that sort of thing.
The May bank holiday was a float parade when the May Queen was crowned.(chosen
at the previous event). It’s far too commercial now and not at all community
spirited.

Michael August 19, 2013 at 17:23

So that is what I nearly ran the MG into all those years ago! Nice event
but please don’t hold them on the wrong side of a blind bend without dropping
a hint that even we English can understand! Sliding sideways towards a street
party taught me two things, one I need a lot more fibre in my diet and two,
that the French drive on the wrong side of the road. TTFN and thanks for the
lovely info, perhaps I can find time in the future to properly enjoy one.

Elena ‘andcart
August 19, 2013 at 16:40

We have “Pardons” in Brittany, where everyone, well nearly everyone, goes
to church to beg the pardon of that particular Saint. One nearly every weekend
throughout Summer. And then everyone gets drunk before and after a huge
communal meal cooked by the villagers of whatever village.
I have been
known to sit for hours peeling vegetables.
Proceeds to the church. And The
Rector gets his lunch free because believe it or not all Rectors are on the
minimum wage.
And then there is Breton Dancing to Breton Music, obviously,
usually in some near by field to the church. Hope it doesn’t rain, but it
rarely does, and it doesn’t put anyone off anyway.
It is considered to be
extremely bad form if you don’t go to the church service, but usually only
Brits make that mistake.

Anna
Raccoon August 19, 2013 at 16:57

Communal meals are a very French thing, aren’t they? We have a super one
every New Year’s Eve. The deal is that everyone makes their own starter and
dessert, and puts it on a big table set up in the chateau. The village
provides baked hams and pommes – all cooked over an open fire – eat your
heart out health and safety.
Well, everybody makes enough of a starter
and dessert for all their party, of say 8 – as does everyone else in the
party. Now you have 64 starters and 64 desserts….multiply that by a couple
of hundred people and you have tables groaning with goodies – for it is New
Year’s Eve, and you do have to outperform your neighbours….if there was
anyone in the village who couldn’t afford to eat well on New Year’s Eve, no
one would notice them creeping in. Add in the village electrician and his
disco table, and a hundred weight of conifer clipping by way of decoration
and you have a brilliant New Year’s Eve for the entire village which needn’t
cost a penny.
Now that is in the dead of winter, so weather hasn’t got a
lot to do with it.

Elena
‘andcart August 20, 2013 at 10:46

I like the fact that everyone smokes between courses at a French
Dinner. And all French Dinners last at least four hours. I never could go
longer than an hour without a fag, although I am trying.

Andrew Duffin
August 19, 2013 at 16:38

“You have to have worked for two years to get anything at all, and after
that how long and how much is related to your work record.”

Excellent, what very sensible ideas. Well done les grenouilles!

So why can’t we have rules like these? Are the French not in the EU? Did
they not sign up to the ECHR?

Or is it just that they don’t have idiot politicians in charge and idiot
lawyers enforcing things?

Anna
Raccoon August 19, 2013 at 16:41

It’s not the EU that makes Britain give welfare to all comers. It’s not
the EU that insists on translating everything into 15 different languages
for you. It’s not the EU that dictates that newcomers to the country go
first on the housing list.
Britain does that all by itself.

JuliaM August
19, 2013 at 17:53

THIS!!

Ho Hum August 20, 2013 at 00:45

Appreciated that! If only the United Kingdom’s Idiotic Proles were as
well informed.

Andrew Duffin
August 20, 2013 at 15:36

So the correct answer is my third one?

Can’t say I am surprised.

Can we shoot them all now?

Ho Hum
August 20, 2013 at 18:03

Sorry, that’s not the case either.

And, FWIW, the UK had a large part in drafting the ECHR, the European
Convention on Human Rights, and were signed up to it when it came into
force in 1953. We consequently are signed up to The European Court of
Human Rights, which came into being in 1959, on the basis of Article 19
of the ECHR. We are also, for good measure, signed up to the European
Court of Justice

Now, not many people know that….

Ho Hum
August 20, 2013 at 18:05

of course, you may have meant your fourth?

DtP August 19, 2013 at 16:02

Marvellous stuff. I do think the weather may have something to do with it
all, though. This is the 1st decent summer for yonks and it seems none of us
planned for it at all so are having to make do with impromtu bbq’s and shit –
not bad but no sharoot. I guess, too, there’s also the fact that everythings
so fracking regulated over here that village fetes naturally crept into
bureaucratic affairs requiring downpayments and Local Authority fleecing so if
it was a wash out – ya screwed! Ho hum…my envy has the tinge of a ripe olive
and with none of that pimento garbage in the vicinity.

Anna
Raccoon August 19, 2013 at 16:48

I’ll grant you that temperature does have something to do with it, it is
warmer – but not the weather per se; if it is going to rain here, it does so
dramatically and suddenly without warning – usually as night falls….just the
time that everyone is sitting outside eating! I’ve seen tables dragged into
church porches, people sitting underneath the tables, shop doorways,
anywhere there is shelter.
An hour later it has stopped, the warmth dries
everything out again, and we continue as normal….Beaumont is unusual in that
it doesn’t have a covered market square, but there is plenty of cover round
the square -you just have to think on your feet.
It could be done in
village halls in England – but as you say – regulations and local authority
interference…..

binao August 20, 2013 at 08:33

Having some involvement in local events in years past, the biggest
problem in my largish village is finding help. Few doers, and then mostly
oldies.
H & S stuff and insurance requirements are not a big issue,
venue is free, road closures are not difficult. On my patch the problem
seems to be a demand for community events without much enthusiasm within the
community for involvement. We’re finding the same decline in local club
memberships.
And yet, my son’s small village in the Peak Park runs
several very successful events rain or shine. They don’t get much sun.

SagaxSenex August 19, 2013 at 14:35

Attended the Fête des Ramparts in a walled city in Bretgane many years ago.
Similar atmosphere with jongleurs. So cool. Lovely description. Thanks.

Demetrius August
19, 2013 at 14:27

Sing me songs of the Auvergne. We saw a dance of the Auvergne on Saturday,
albeit the Bolshoi version in their performance of “The Flames of Paris.” It
is ironic that the several French revolutions led to the high level of
centralisation and the attempt to enforce a mono-culture in France.

JimmyGiro August
19, 2013 at 12:45

“I can attest to their excellence and skill. Indeed, one of my abiding
memories was of watching such troubadours in medievel costume and with painted
faces, fully 9 feet tall in the stilts, pursuing children around the local
supermarche – much to the delight not just of the children but of all
around.”

Response from the committee of Fun & Games, department of Joy, Peoples
Republic of Milk and Honey:
To the Supreme Council of Busybodies: Dear
Chairperson, Re. marchés nocturnes:
-Nine foot actors, not provided with
safety harnesses,
-So called ‘skilled’ actors, not members of
equity,
-Painted faces, none COSHH approved paint,
-No provisions for
Police to protect women and children from nine foot tall rapists and
paedophiles, masquerading as ‘actors’,
-No money left in committee funds to
pay for Ritalin and therapy of traumatized children.
Recommendation:
Application REFUSED, on grounds of being too wonderful.

General Mayhem
August 19, 2013 at 12:13

Thank you Anna. Informative as always. You missed out Catalan – a
close(ish) relative of Occitan, spoken in the Perpigan area. I remember
staying for a number of summers with my cousins round there when I was a mere
sprog. At the time, Catalan was banned in Spain, and was kept alive among
families, and was happily spoken in Perpignan and Ceret.

Sadly I cannot remember all that much these days, but it does sometimes
come in useful for baffling the natives of Menorca, Mallorca and Barcelona,
who get a little bemused when an (obviously) englishman makes a request in the
local language.

Joe Public August 19, 2013 at 11:52

MJMcF’s comments seconded.

It seems villagers across the channel are considerably more sociable than
than their English equivalents. But we did have Jubilee ‘Street Parties’.

I’m old enough to remember urban bonfire-night parties that would now be
considered a Health & safety nightmare. Bonfire in a terraced street;
‘proper’ bangers which today would attract the attention of the local Armed
Response Unit; treacle-toffee; baked spuds from the embers. And all free –
apart from your own fireworks.

Ho Hum August 20, 2013 at 01:04

I had completely forgotten those. Thanks for the reminder of happy
memories

Gildas The Monk
August 19, 2013 at 11:39

Fabulous and informative. I did that little bit on the Languedoc –
literally, the Language of “doc”, or “yes”, some time ago. “French” as she is
spoken in schools is indeed an invention of northern France, and what I
believe was and is oft referred to as the Isle de France – the regions around
Paris.
It sound fabulous, and having enjoyed a visit to Madame’s village
fete with the troubadours in full display, I can attest to their excellence
and skill. Indeed, one of my abiding memories was of watching such troubadours
in medievel costume and with painted faces, fully 9 feet tall in the stilts,
pursuing children around the local supermarche – much to the delight not just
of the children but of all around.
Wonderful

Margaret Jervis
August 19, 2013 at 11:32

Amazing isn’t it, that Parisian French is the language we learn, but it’s
frequently impossible to understand a word a Parisian speaks.

These dialects are interesting though. Friend of mine in South Africa
bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t get the hang of Xhosa despite numerous
attempts.
Yet children pick it up without a thought – that’s why it lives –
unlike Esperanto -sadly.

I wonder why it may be made so difficult for non-native speakers? And then
of course there is the matter of translation. Bit like techno speak – is it
difficult to understand because we are stupid, or is it because those who use
it don’t want us to understand? – in the latter case maybe because that would
expose the poverty of thought, but may be not with living languages.

Michael J.
McFadden August 19, 2013 at 10:59

Thank you Anna! A fascinating micro-education about something I’d known
nothing about! Actually two somethings: the Mairie and an interesting and
sounds-excellent approach to social welfare!

MJM

JuliaM August
19, 2013 at 17:51

Seconded! Fascinating anecdote, Anna…