Saturday was carnaval, which meant for starters that Nellie was dressed up as a frog in a decorated green trash bag with a mask that had a long pink rolled-up tongue, ready to perform a few songs with her schoolmates at the old folks' home across the street. It would have been considerably more festive if the skies hadn't opened moments before, so that everyone was soggily packed inside, but nonetheless it's always good to see children in costumes. And according to Julian, if there's cake, the event is a success.
The plan (or so we think) was to visit the old folks, and then to have a parade around the village. The notice sent home from school asked us not to throw wheat or eggs. But the rain kept us even from having the chance, the parade was postponed (or so we think), so we'll see what develops this weekend.
I was unsure what to wear to Le Bal. Le Bal sounds fancy, n'est-ce pas? Costumes, yes or no? I asked one woman, "What do we wear tonight?" And she replied, "Nothing." Completely deadpan. So I said, "Oh, we come naked?" "Yes," she answered, not cracking even the tiniest smile.
We wore our Venetian masks with non-fancy clothes, which turned out to be sort of right. I drank several kirs, and the children tore around in a pack, among Spiderman and cheerleaders and mummies. We chatted with our English friends and a bit with our French friends. The plat was frites and duck, with rosé and an apple tart. All delicious. Chris is now adept at French ways of doing things so that he was unfazed by the handful of different-colored tickets with which to order our dinners and soon had a woman behind the counter looking out for him.
After dinner, the lights started flashing and pulsing, the DJ put on the macarena, and le bal began. Children were copying the adults, drunk old men were dancing with toddlers, a woman in a wheelchair was twirling to the beat, and soon the dance floor was packed with much of Villamblard moving and grooving under the multicolored strobes. I'm not sure why, but there is something deeply amusing about the odd disjunction of French life and American pop, and every time a new song started, Chris and I were cracking up. The Village People's "YMCA"! A techno remix of "Oh, What A Night"!
I love it here.
