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Fete du Village |
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Written by Carol Hellyer
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Saturday, 03 May 2008 |
 Of all the many annual festivities which take place in Bormes les Mimosas, my personal favourite is the Pentecostal Fete du Village in May. Held over Whitsuntide weekend, this three-day event really does have something for everyone – processions, street-theatre, children’s games, music, fireworks, dancers and dancing, jazz bands, food, craft exhibitions - all taking place in this most beautiful of medieval hill-villages. It’s not a particularly wild affair – it’s just, well, lovely. The planning, attention to detail and performances are all extraordinary; the ideas innovative and original. The whole festival appears to take place seamlessly, without any obvious hand – almost by magic. And, along with the traditional and the conventional, there is indeed a sense of the magical, the bohemian and the burlesque, the alternative and the mystical.
 Last year, the festival was held at the very end of May when the weather was perfect – warm and sunny during the day with balmy, star-lit evenings. Preparations were completed on the Saturday morning and the village – noted for its astonishing array of flowers and flowering trees throughout the year – looked its party-best. There were flags, bunting and special floral displays. Restaurants extended their tables into the squares, perching them precariously down tumbling stone steps and along the warm walls of narrow alleyways. Hotel staff stood outside their premises ready to welcome visitors and guests.
A rather splendid stage, decorated with flowers and palm fronds was erected in Place Gambetta, the village square. Craft-shops and galleries - hidden behind tiny ancient doorways in vast, vaulted caverns - opened early, their owners preparing for the busy days ahead. I trotted happily around the village, inspecting this and that and feeling a rather inflated sense of pride. It was all just ‘trop beau’.
 It all began gently on the Saturday afternoon: there were huge, old-fashioned wooden toys, musical instruments and face-painting for the children; a strolling flower-girl with antique cart – dripping with the most fragrant, exotic and colourful blooms. She would make a small posy and, with a charming smile, hand it to a passer-by. Jazz-bands played at both ends of the village, gradually coming closer and closer until finally they met in the square for ‘le jamming’.
And this is what I love about the French – the fact that anyone and everyone just gets up and starts dancing. Alone, with a partner or in a group. Any age with any age. In a restaurant, on the street – just wherever the music and the fancy takes them.
 And so it was now. I watched as an older couple, late-lunching at a prime-position table in the Café du Progres overlooking the square, put down their napkins, glided out into the street and proceeded to jive – elegantly, quietly and without any trace of self-consciousness. After one number, they returned to their meal as if nothing had happened.
 Wandering about the village were ‘Les Farfadets’ – three stilt-walking ‘goblins’ – dressed as part-animal, part-human. Fascinating, clever and ever so slightly spooky. There was a funny, vintage mime show followed by traditional dancing and a marching band. We followed the dancers and musicians through the village and, as we did so, the bells of St Trophyme church rang out in celebration of a wedding. The guests (English as it turned out) joined in the procession on their way to what must surely be the most perfect setting for a wedding reception – a little flower-filled square, surrounded by beautiful, medieval buildings and accessed by steep, narrow steps through covered archways. We sneaked a peek – white cloths on tables under the trees, champagne, their own jazz-band (fair amount of competition today!) and the heady scent of jasmine. Lucky couple.
 That night there was a ‘Retraite aux Flambeaux’ – a torch-lit procession through the village. It was fabulous. Anybody who wanted to take part was issued with a genuine, flaming torch and, at 9.30 sharp, a couple of hundred of us set off after the marching band – following them along alleyways, through low-beamed medieval ‘couberts’ (covered archways), up and down steps and through open-air restaurants. The crowd inevitably caused a couple of ‘bouchons’ in the tight ginnels and stone stairways but we were secretly grateful for the enforced rest, bearing in mind that Bormes les Mimosas clings to the side of a steep hill. Carrying a tall flame-thrower up and down endless steps whilst ducking to avoid setting fire to the ancient beams was becoming no joke. Fun though it was, we were relieved to unbend our weary bodies and douse our torches in one of the fountains.
 Well, we were all in the mood now and, with perfect timing, the outdoor band and disco started in the Place Gambetta. What terrific fun – it was as if everyone flicked a body-switch and started to jive. Even on the hotel balconies overlooking the square. To my great regret, I cannot dance (learning is on my ‘To Do’ list). My husband has had a hip operation and is not, shall we say, a mover and a shaker. At first we hopped about a bit on the periphery but soon, infected by all the laughter, smiles and bonhomie surrounding us, we managed to strut our ungainly funky alongside everyone else, not caring a hoot what we must have looked like. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Sunday and Monday saw more performances from the jazz-bands, the dancers and ‘Les Farfadets’. Plus there was a giant ‘Aioli’ in the park with food, drink, story-telling and magic shows. There were craft and photo exhibitions, a boules contest and a ‘Big Band’ orchestra for more late-night revelry. All excellent, all perfectly orchestrated.
But it was Sunday’s late-night ‘Spectacle Pyrotechnique’, themed on ‘The Universe’, which made the greatest impression on me. Held in a natural amphitheatre in the wooded hills to the north of the village and overlooking the sea, the setting alone was wonderful. I stood next to American visitors and we watched as, far below, a drummer, clad all in white, climbed onto a podium and took his place behind drum-set and (interestingly) a laptop. Facing the crowd and actually unable to witness the spectacle himself, he hit the drums with some force as the first fireworks hurtled into the sky behind him. The pace was firstly rhythmic, becoming primitive and primeval and then escalating to a manic frenzy. He was sensational and all eyes were as much upon his flailing arms as on the fireworks beyond. For a full 30 minutes he drummed and the entire sky was an eruption of flame, a riot of shooting stars, light, bangs, explosions and brilliantly choreographed arcs of colour. As if this wasn’t enough, human fireworks (yes, really), dressed in black and encased in bizarre, flaming cages tottered precariously on stilts around the drummer’s stage, swinging giant sparklers. It was breathtaking stuff and, after the exhausting finale, the crowd was silent for a moment or two before erupting into noisy, whooping and lengthy applause. I looked at my neighbours. The American girl, like me, had tears in her eyes. Not for the faint-hearted, living in Bormes.
Facts:
This year the Fete du Village will take place Saturday 10, Sunday 11 and Monday 12 May. Most events are free (last year there was a nominal admission charge to the ‘Aioli’ in the park). Car-parking in the village is plentiful and free. Further information can be obtained from the Office du Tourisme: 04 94 01 38 38 or via the website: www.ville-bormes.fr
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Last Updated ( Friday, 16 May 2008 )
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