France – August 2016
When my girlfriends and I arrive at the surf camp in Moliets-et-Maa, before we can even move into our chalet, we are directly introduced to all the possible excursions. The highlight among them: the party of the year, which is called “Fat Bayonne” by the German camp leaders. Many of the participants have chosen this week especially for this reason. We don’t know anything about it, of course. But when it comes to partying, we are always in the front. So we buy white shirts, red foulards and look forward to Wednesday.
At some point during the week we find out that it is supposed to be a city festival in Bayonne. The “Fêtes de Bayonne” are a series of events in the Basque summer festivals and the largest festival in France. The city festival has been taking place since 1932 and was inspired by the world-famous festivals in Pamplona. It is about a sense of togetherness in the Basque Country, hence the red and white outfits that reflect the colors of Pamplona.
Well-prepared from the first three nights at camp, we head to the pine-lined main street on Wednesday after the afternoon surf session. Here we find surf enthusiasts from all over Europe waiting to board the waiting buses. A group of Germans has already collected a good dozen empty beer cans in a bag. When we are finally ushered into the buses with the pack, we naturally sit directly behind them.
The hour-long drive is suitably entertaining. As soon as the first of countless traffic circles comes into view, the group in front of us starts with the creative chant “There’s a traffic circle coming, there’s a traffic circle coming,…”. And then as the bus goes around in circles, it follows: “We’re in a traffic circle, we’re in a traffic circle,…”. Since they are still not tired of it even after the 5th time, we join in at some point. But then we are almost there and quickly tie on our red neckerchiefs before we are dropped off at the edge of the city center.
Now we are on our own. The organizers of the camp give as the only rule the departure time for the journey home: 3 o’clock in the morning. Until then we can spend the time as we want. And so we first get an overview. On the main street, which separates the old town from the new town, there is a kind of Luna Park, with rides like bumper cars and roller coasters spinning in circles. From here we walk down a narrow alley that leads to a large square, which is framed by medieval buildings. A small brass band plays a rousing folk song and many of the spectators sing along in Basque.
We stay for a while and let ourselves be intoxicated by the exuberant atmosphere, although of course we don’t understand anything. Fortunately, the melody of the song is similar to the classic “Greek Wine”, so we cheerfully bawl along. A few alleys away, we observe a group of men trying to climb a street lamp in a kind of pyramid. Again and again we encounter such games, which seem to appear out of nowhere. At some point we are led by the crowd to the river, where we start looking for a place to have dinner. Of course, we are not the only ones with the idea, so we first find it in a small pub in a side alley.
We sit down on one of the benches in the street and order a typical plate with some bread, cheese and meat. In addition a few beers and the feasting can start. We watch the people walking up and down the hill in various degrees of drunkenness. Because ALL are dressed in white and red, it is difficult to tell at first glance who is from here and who is a tourist. But all the languages of Western Europe can be heard. Just as we pay, a group passes us, talking loudly in Swiss German. We recognize our cabin neighbors and join them on the way to the main square.
By now the sun has set and the temperature is finally a bit more pleasant. Basques and tourists alike are dancing wildly through the streets, drinking too much sangría, wine and beer, and eating at the street stalls. We join the large group of surf campers in front of the main stage and dance for a while to the internationally recognized summer hits of the year. Suddenly a row of people lie down on the ground next to us and we realize late that it is one of the games.
Delia is the first of us to join the game and let herself be carried by the hands of the people lying on the ground for about 100 meters. When she reaches the end, she sits down behind the last guy and picks up Ilona, who also sits down behind her. It goes on like this for about 10 minutes, until the spectacle dissolves just as suddenly as it began. We continue partying for a few more hours until it’s already 2:30 and we slowly make our way to the meeting point for the drive home. By now everyone is pretty tired. Only the craziest of the campers still have strength to be pulled through the street on plastic bottles under their feet.
The drive home is much quieter than the outward journey. Even the German guys prefer to sleep than to comment all traffic circles with singing. Back at the camp, we briefly review the evening before sleeping and are glad that our surf lesson the next day will not take place until the afternoon.
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