2018-05-21 SMDLM

We arrived in Les Saintes Marie de la Mer (from here on out referred to as SMDLM) late in the evening. Cathy has a regular place she and her friends have stayed for the last 15 or so years. The owners have hidden the key for her in the enclosed driveway. The apartment is close to the center of town and the beach. All we all need a few necessities at the store and just to hang out for a while. Cathy broke many toes prior to her trip and a rest would be helpful.

First Gypsy Spoting

SMDLM is a small beach town, which means in a way, it’s a party town. Everyone’s on Vacay! Close to Arles, Nimes and Avignon the locals from this part of the South of France come here to play. Add tnow to the mix of regular tourists, the arrival of several hundred gypsies for the Festival. The businesses in town have learned to adapt to the influx and the proceeding crazy. One way the revelers are handled; many of the grocers are only open in the morning. If you have not bought your supplies by lunchy, you are out of luck. One small bodega is open this evening.  You can’t go in during the festival. The owner has a barricade at the front door where he takes your order (and your money). There is a line out into the square for supplies. We have our list because no one wants to stand in line any longer than we must. Milk for coffee, something salty and WINE!!

Line for WIne

Our first morning we are up and ready to stalk Gypsy’s. Not just any gypsy, the ones who make the best music. It's time to see who's in town. SMDLM is situated around a large church. L’englies. There are several small squares around the church in the maze of small streets. We head straight for "La Salsa" for Coffee “with crem.”

Crazy Antonio sings with passion

Before you know it, we hear what is later to become a regular fixture of our visit, “Caty! Caty! Caty!” this is the call of the folks who know and love Cathy de Floride.  We meet up with Estaban, who Harvey and I had the pleasure of meeting years ago, and his lovely wife, Maria (of course). Another table is pulled up. Shortly after, Bambo Baliardo wanders over. He is from the big shot family of Manita de Plata and it is an honor to give him money for a CD or so he thinks. He and his woman sit down for a drink with us. 

Bambo and Estaban looking like Miami Vice

No one is playing music today. It’s a day when people start arriving; the town is calm, and everyone is checking everyone else out. It seems a lot like high school – American Graffiti style- where your cruise up and down the main drag to see which of the cool kids are here and where they are going to party. No one is ready to make commitments either. 

"Caty, Caty, Caty!"  Valeire and Family from Montprllier

 We are planning on a down day. Harvey returns to the apartment and Cathy and I head over to Gypsy Walmart. When the gypsies arrive, they take over a large empty space located on the main road, closest to the beach and put up their own flea market full of gypsy things. It’s a big affair and one can find everything here you need to clothe yourself, cook with, camp with, make a mattress with, furnish  your home (or caravan)……it’s too much stuff for most of us to imagine. 

 

The Fete has begun!

“Caty, Caty, Caty!” this is the call from Swings mother. Swing is a young girl who was on The Voice-France, last year. One of their youngest contestants. She is wildly popular and with good reason. Her mother is thrilled to see Cathy and gives her the ultimate compliment, “You are here. Now I know the Fete has begun. “

On the patio at Caty's. with Joanna

Harvey and Oliver talk boats

 We have dinner companions, friends of Cathy of course, Johanna and Oliver. Johanna and Cathy met years ago when Cathy lived in France for several months, learning the language. Johanna is from England but has lived here for 16 years. Oliver is French and is working on his English. They are a most lovely couple. Cathy is Johanna’s daughters godmother. We’ve made plans to meet up with them in a day or two, close to their home in Arles at their weekend place. 

Around the Church

The nights are still cool here. Windows wide open and covers up to our necks, we sleep in anticipation of the party that awaits us during the Fete du Sainte Sara Noir.

2018-05-20 Pezilla to SMDLM

It was a wonderful sleep. Up for breakfast with strong coffee’s and homemade yogurt Thierry can buy at the local cheesery. He slices up one of the sweetest melons we have tasted in forever. Oh, that’s right, from his garden.

Thierry's cooking!

In the mornings, everyone goes early to the boulangerie to buy bread, thru out the country. Most will close by noon. We follow Thierry to the  town’s single boulangerie. Today we will leave for Saintes Maries by way of a Gypsy camp near Perpignan to see friends of Cathy. We buy a special fouchgau (sp); a pastry filled with custard and chips of chocolate, to take to the camp. It is a specialty of the region.

Leaving Thierry at the boulangerie, Cathy takes us on the very short tour of Pezilla. It is a medieval site/town. I am trying not to say “city” because the original town, consisted of a church and a round, string of houses attached to each other, creating a walled fortress. The rest of the town which later developed here, is also arranged in a large circle.

Again, Thierry has created a fabulous lunch of Spanish omelet, large green salad and fresh bread. He and his daughter will visit the camp with us to meet with John and Gloria.  Thierry has known them for years and they traditionally help him with his harvest. 

The old and new of things

One does not just enter a gypsy enclave willy-nilly. You must be invited, and the families must agree that you can come in on some gipsy level.  Outsiders are not welcomed.  John and Thierry have a long relationship as does Caty du Floride with this particular family.

Lunchy

The camp is in between 2 major roadways in Perpignan, residing on land no one wants. It was purchased by the family. They cannot be run off. Gypsy’s as a whole are not welcomed and are very discriminated against. Entering the camp, my first impression is that it is neat as a pin; well maintained with trees, flowers, a common fire pit and large gravel drive. John, his wife and small daughter live in a small manufactured home. There are other stationary pre-fab homes here, as well as the ubiquitous caravans scattered throughout. This year it is John and Gloria’s duty to stay and guard the camp, while the others go to Sainte Marie. The camp is never left empty, for safety’s sake.

Cathy and Momma Gloria in camp

They are such a lovely couple. The picnic table beside their home is set up for guest’s:  coffee, cream, lemonade, wine, sherry, water and Marlboros. Everything ready for guests and a party. Cathy presents the fouchgas to our hosts.  She has also brought presents for their shy little daughter, also a Gloria. Little Gloria sits tight in momma’s lap. The llama keychain Cathy has left on the table catches her eye. She carefully approaches and slides it into her tiny hand – then runs inside her home with her treasure. This is a Manoush gipsy camp and Little Gloria does not have much experience with outsiders. Minutes later, she is back in mom’s arms delighted but still wary. Now Cathy brings out the large green plush gator from Florida. Gloria’s eyes are wide and shrewd. She does not move from mom’s arms and her eyes never leave the gator.

We drink, they smoke and before you know it, little Gloria has the gator. There is much exoticness for her to take in between the guests and the gifts.  While Gloria is still reserved, we can tell she is very, very pleased with her new loot.

We while away in the sun speaking in French and Spanish till it is time to say goodbye.

2018-05-19 Pezilla de Riviera

I am heartbroken to leave the Hotel Bernis, an oasis in the middle of Nimes and the raucous Feria.

Today, we drive to Pezilla de Riviera to meet up with Cathy at her old friend, Thierry, at his home. We will spend the night and leave the next day for Les Saintes Marie de la Mer.

The drive is uneventful. Pezilla is located on the “frontier” of France which means it is 20 minutes to the Spanish border and Andorra. It is small town outside of Perpignan. By the time we see the signs for Montpellier the Mediterranean peaks over the landscape on our left. The land is more arid than I imagined yet wildflowers abound in all colors. It was a rainy spring here.  This is the land of the Mistral Winds. Signs on the highway (A9) warn that they can blow caravans (campers) off the road. The winds can blow up to 50mph – higher for gusts.  Windsocks appear along the road at intervals, something I am only used seeing at airfield.

Thierry's home

Thierry, though a farmer lives “in town”. He lives in his mother’s 3-story home, which he inherited after her death. He laughs and says he was born around the corner, 2 houses down from where he lives now. 

He has created a fabulous, farm-fresh, French family meal for our arrival. Like farmers around the world the main meal is lunch. I ask how many other people are going to be served given the amount of food he has on the table. Baked vinegar chicken, multicolored sliced tomato’s off his farm-sprinkled with herbs de province, green bean and spinach salad with candied walnuts and chevre cheese. A gigantic bowl of mixed vegetables (roasted fennel, garbanzo’s etc) fresh bread, and red wine.

After lunch, with nothing put away (how very French – “we can do that later”) we take all 3 of our vehicles to the train station in Perpignan. Ours needs to be returned and Thierry is picking up his daughter Juliet, who has been in Indonesia finishing up her master’s Degree in education.  The whole trip is like the 3 stooges return a car, but we get the job done and Juliet comes home with us. 

Thierry’s girlfriend is coming over to watch the closing ceremony of the Caan Film Festival. She has a friend who is presenting. We whoop and holler when we catch a glimpse of the friend on the runway. Then we make fun of the stars who are attending. By this time, there are 10 bottles of wine and appertifs on the table in front of us and still, lunch has not been put away.

Now that we all have some liquid courage, it’s time to debut “ Le Catastrophic” our new band name. We all howl with laughter because we are so very bad – add to that tipsy. Thierry takes out his guitar which he hasn’t played in some while.

We play and drink till it’s time to eat again – around midnight.  Very French indeed.