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Post by lola on Jun 28, 2015 17:47:53 GMT
Last night I sat next to a young man said to be Stephane Grappelli's great-grandson, jamming with one of Django Reinhardt's great-grandsons and a couple of other guitarists. I've always assumed Grappelli was gay, but this kid was a great rhythm guitarist, and he certainly looked a lot like the late violinist did when in his 20's. The main action at Festival Django is away from the main stage; it's in the campgrounds and in the luthiers' tents. Young Reinhardt was very fine on lead guitar. Such nice kids, too.
Friday evening we stumbled upon the Sara French Quintette playing for a small but loving crowd in the Place de la République, Samois-sur-Seine. We didn't hear them do this one, but she told us it was filmed in her native small island off the Italian coast.
My new favorite jazz singer, Indra Rios-Moore, lives in Denmark with her husband (here on sax). She was darling. They were our main stage favorite discovery, though we loved 4 of the 6 acts last night. The other two i pretty much couldn't stand.
All of these artists were as lovely as can be when we approached them later.
This morning Hannah and I rode our bikes over to Samois from our house in the center of Fontainebleau. We wanted to attend (part of) the Django memorial mass in the old church there. The priest had a beautiful voice, and he enunciated so well I could understand entire stretches of the gospel and sermon. "Jésus dit à la femme: Ta foi t'a sauvée, va en paix." It helped to have been familiar with the story, of course. I couldn't see him very well, but Hannah told me later she thought the priest had an "evil" face. She tends to take after her daddy in the anti-clerical department. The music was wonderful, mostly based on American Negro spirituals.
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Post by lola on Jun 28, 2015 18:34:31 GMT
Usually I start feeling a little comfortable speaking French about 10 days into our typically two-week trips here. if people would just speak really slowly, or provide a written transcript, or preferably both, it would make it so much easier. Last night I got to do things I would really rather not do: scold someone, ask him for help, and do it all in French.
We've done this trip with public transportation and bikes, and were glad to learn that there is a shuttle from the center of Fontainebleau to the train station and then to the Festival. It's been the same driver every time, we sat in the front seats when we could, and we'd gotten to really like him. One night he exclaimed "un renard!" when a fox ran across the road. A fun and friendly driver. with no English at all.
Last night, though, Saturday, the posted schedule was different from the time he'd told us, so Hannah and I waited at the bus stop, along with increasing numbers of other passengers. The bus didn't come at 23h05, as driver had said, so Bob was going to come in time for the posted 23h35 last bus. The bus pulled up at 2324. It felt reminiscent of the last helicopter out at the fall of Saigon; people were crowding around the bus door in an equilateral triangle, base against the bus, tall young men shouldering the old and infirm aside. H and I got on, and people were standing, but not jammed, in the aisles. Outside I could see Bob trying to make his way down the crowded exit bridge, then becoming visibly alarmed when he saw the driver close the door 10 minutes ahead of schedule. As the bus pulled away, Bob and a blonde woman ran for it, H and I yelled Stop! and i could see Bob knocking on the bus door. He later told me that the driver gave him an exaggerated Gallic shrug and drove on.
Hannah told me I should tell the driver to go back and get Bob and the other woman, so I prepped a number of stern talking points, starting with a (very unlikely) assumption that he would go back for les autres. So when the bus had emptied in town I gave it my best shot. He delivered his counterpoints, waving hand-written notes, and finally turned to two young men standing by, asking them to back him up. They replied, "Yeah, are you going to take us to the campground?"
All ended well. The blonde turned out to be a take-charge Swedish woman who knew how to get results and how to demand justice. She ended up missing the last train back to Paris, probably demanding and getting a ride, while Bob got to ride along with one of the bands being delivered to their hotel.
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Post by nycgirl on Jun 30, 2015 3:29:19 GMT
I watched the videos, that Indra has a beautiful voice. I really like her interpretation of "Money." Good to hear that you're enjoying most of the shows. 4 out of 6 ain't bad. That bus ride sounds like a harrowing ordeal. Glad to hear it all worked out.
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Post by lola on Jun 30, 2015 8:36:25 GMT
Thank you, nycg. Indra also did a lovely version of the Ella Fitzgerald song Azure, and just had an adorable stage presence. I saved Hannah's seat while she ran and got me a signed CD afterwards.
I knew Bob could hitchhike if need be, with all the people starting to leave the festival, but Hannah was pretty worried about her daddy. He always manages to do what it takes, often at the last possible instant, and will always remember the Swedish Woman with admiration. He never said anything to the driver, but on Sunday, the last day, the driver made pointed comments to a woman sitting near Bob about the importance of being on time.
I only attended the festival on Saturday, though Hannah and I took the shuttle over two previous evenings and sat on the bank overlooking the Seine and le Petit Isle Barbeau where the festival was, drinking a beer. Friday Niño Josele's flamenco guitar solo floated across the water as we watched the half moon rising. Hannah loved the festival, the feeling of it, meeting manouche lovers from around the world. She wants to come back every year with friends.
I'll write more later about Fontainebleau. I love the pace here, slower than in Paris but still with lots of things to do. We are leaving today. It was good to arrive one day before, and leave two days after the festival. No longer are the streets bustling with guitar-wearing men.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2015 9:51:24 GMT
Great stuff!
No mosquito problems along the river? I knew some people who had a waterfront house there and mosquitoes were an absolute plague certain years.
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Post by htmb on Jul 1, 2015 5:47:09 GMT
Sounds like a memorable visit in many ways! Looking forward to hearing more about your time there. Safe travels.
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Post by lola on Jul 5, 2015 19:02:21 GMT
Thank you, htmb! A bit about la Ville Impériale: I suppose it only became imperiale on Napoleon I's say-so, though the Château and surrounding forest had been used by kings of France since a hunting lodge was built in the 1100's. By coincidence, the first page of the sketchbook I brought is my drawing of Francois I, taken from one of my favorite portraits at the St. Louis Art Museum. The artist depicts a man of humor and commanding nose. I think he was the first to expand the lodge and make it a palace. The train station is in Avon, a few miles from the Château, and there are frequent buses into town center. Last train back to Paris, ~ 45 minute ride and ~8€ one-way, leaves at midnight. I think the population of greater Fontainebleau is ~ 40,000 or so. We had a bit of an issue at Gare de Lyon finding the correct ticket booth, since the kiosk upstairs only takes coins and plastic, and it rejected my cards. The train information desk directed me to the SNCF billeterie on the main floor, where I was directed two levels down amid a few trips back and forth between destinations and where Bob and H stood with our luggage. Two down, then one up to the train, leap on, and ahhh. We failed to validate our tickets, I later realized, which might have led to a 35€ fine each if we'd been challenged. After Paris I immediately found the small town pace more my own speed. Admittedly if we hadn't had the Festival to keep us occupied things might have gotten a little slow for H in the course of a week, but it was just right for us. We had a lovely airbnb house, 4 floors with one room each, connected by an ancient winding stairway. www.airbnb.com/rooms/4003562The photos truly do not do it justice. I passed it over several times while searching, partly because of the low price and partly because of that first unattractive photo. Everything was spare and clean, and top quality. It is just a few steps from Rue Grande but in a quiet passage, and the windows are well sound-proofed. Friday night was karaoke night at La Taverne across the passage, but it was a happy fun sound that only bothered my spouse of the sensitive ears. Two blocks away is La Petite Reine, where we all rented bikes for the week. The Château is a block away, and the grounds are open to stroll until 19h00. My favorite bakery was back in the pedestrian area and around the corner, next to the pharmacy at rd Guérin and rd Bouchers, but there were lots of independent ones to choose among.
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Post by lola on Jul 8, 2015 3:45:41 GMT
After we got settled into our house we went over to the Petite Reine and got our bicycles for the week. They gave us a very decent deal for the three: 145 Euros total. Since I hadn't ridden a girls' bike since I was an actual girl, I was willing to try the one they gave me. We intended to get our euros' worth.
Bob wanted to do a test bicycle run to Samois-sur-Seine, since the Festival Django was set to open the next evening. He got directions from the bike shop lady, and we set off out Rue Grande and along the busy main route through Fontainebleau and Avon. It's around 7-10 km one way, and once you get past the roundabout near the Samoreau bridge the scary ride turns into a quiet and lovely road along the Seine.
We rode into the lower riverfront part of the town, and past the island where they were setting up the festival. H spotted a houseboat moored to the island that we had watched be lowered down a lock at Canal St-Martin. There are two restaurants along the riverfront, both doing a good business on their patios. Many lovely homes and a fancy looking Country Club Hotel. Bob wanted to ride around Samois, but it's a steep climb into the high from the low part of town, and I was a little nervous about not having lights since it was getting towards evening.
Kerouac, compared to my own back yard now after weeks of rain, Samois was mosquito paradise. Bob didn't notice any at all. Hannah did one evening but not the others. We were also lucky with the weather, sunny and warm; I understand that last year there was a lot of rain.
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