142. Remembering

9th May 2011. As I walked into town early yesterday morning to the bakers I noticed activity around the huge War Memorial that's set into one of the old ramparts that encircle Bayonne.

There was someone setting up loudspeakers and microphones - I asked him what was happening and he reminded me that it was 8th May - ".. la fin de la guerre." - I'm ashamed to say I'd forgotten. Waiting in the shade across the road, there were a few old soldiers in their kepis and berets in their be-medalled blazers proudly holding their old standards. Those old links and bonds with the tragic history of Europe are still evident - 66 years on. 

Long time (or long suffering) readers of this blog may recall I once wrote a post about the sound of the cimbalom.. Well, it started off as a post about the cimbalom but it ended up as a homage to Le Grand Mayeur, a fabled and unique institution in Brussels that's sadly now closed (more details at the above link). I was browsing on YouTube earlier and I came across this great interpretation of Vivaldi´s Concerto in C for cimbalom, 1st movement - I hadn't realised up until now that anyone had tried to play the cimbalom with more traditional instruments. I think it shows that the cimbalom can stand comparison with classical instruments as it's accompanied here by a harpsichord, double bass, cello and violins (all being played pizzicato):

Here's the 2nd movement - apparently, this concerto was originally written for mandolin, strings & continuo. I've read the link for continuo ( a new word to me) and I'm none the wiser..! The absence of a non-musical education shines through yet again!

10th May 2011. Just back from letting the dog take me for a walk around town. Looks as though the summer season has started. There was a group of Spanish pensioners receiving a guided tour of the old ramparts; couples with street maps, back packs and cameras; obvious tourists wandering slowly looking all around them and, of course, the street people. There was one this morning who caught my eye - she was standing on a street corner in the centre twirling a long scarf as if she was trying to shake a knot out of it. Then I saw the bowl on the ground with a few coins in. A bit of a minimalist act I thought.. 

The walk took us through the well-maintained gardens that have been laid out in the spaces between the ramparts.  

Here's a view of Grande Bayonne that shows how compressed all the building in the old town centre had to be due to the surrounding ramparts. The confluence of the Adour and the Nive can be seen at the top:

Much remains of the old fortifications - here's one of the entrances into the town, still in daily use:

Bayonne is justifiably proud of its "green" credentials and the town operates a free transport system known as the Navette (shuttle) - these electrically-powered buses circulate continuously at 10 minute intervals in and around town and are a great boon to elderly shoppers - and for tourists (stay aboard for the circular tour). 

Another free mode of transport provided by the town are these bikes - known as Vélibs (the French love abbreviating words!) and this comes from Vélo Libre (free bike):

There are a great many cycle lanes around town and it's possible to ride along the banks of the Adour and the Nive - which is something we like to do.

Another lovely warm sunny evening out on the river tonight. Had an outing in a beautiful Swiss-built coxed quad sculler and the slanting sunshine made the most of its honey-coloured varnished wood. I derive more pleasure of rowing in a boat like this compared to a carbon fibre boat - OK, a carbon boat is lighter, stiffer etc etc but next to a fine shell four like the one we were in tonight, a carbon boat looks like something for holidaymakers.. Did 11km (Running total: 662km).    

11th May 2011. Most mornings when I walk into town I pass the same café that has a few tables on the pavement. More often than not, there are 3 well-upholstered gents of retirement age sitting outside wearing leather jackets covered in badges, each with a small cup of coffee (in the French style - small, strong and guaranteed to inhibit the blinking reflex for up to 3 days).

Their motorsickles are parked on the pavement opposite - or perhaps moored would be the better word - as all three are monster-sized, lavishly chromed and highly polished Harley-Davidsons. No biting the heads off chickens or general purpose hell raising for the owners - nope, they just sit there talking quietly with their coffees until it's time to be respectable again and go home for lunch. It must be hard being a head-bangin', hard drinkin' rebel-without-your-teeth when you've just picked up your pension and your wife wants you to take her to the supermarket in the afternoon.

A column in today's Telegraph claims that three years is all it takes before expats start to tire of life abroad. Yawn..! (was that me?) We'll have been here 4 years in September and neither Madame nor I have yet to experience a "tiring of life here" moment. Ye gods..! I'll keep an eye open for one though and if one comes along you'll be the first to know. Expect they all come in threes.

14th May 2011. Noticed this morning that a few recent comments that were posted to the blog have disappeared - for example, 'Lesley' commented on the above paragraph. In case you're wondering, I've not been tidying up - there must have been a problem with the server somewhere. Feel free to keep 'em coming..!

78. Sounds of old Europe

That old street organ I heard the other day set me thinking about the cimbalom, another musical instrument that must surely be high on the endangered species list. What exactly is a cimbalom? According to Wiki, it's "a concert hammered dulcimer: a type of chordophone composed of a large, trapezoidal box with metal strings stretched across its top". Got that..? No? I didn't think you did..! On the basis that a picture's worth a thousand words, here's a picture..

From the first time I heard one, its jangling strings resonated with me and I felt a nostalgia for the older European musical traditions (Magyar, Yiddish, gypsy) of our folk memory that are now virtually lost to the present generation. (Lady Gaga just doesn't come close!)

The sound of one always puts me in mind of the film noir genre that would invariably have the ultra sinister-looking Vladek Sheybal (below) cast as the softly-spoken bad guy - complete with cigarette holder of course..

Vlad the Impaler..

I've been a fan of the sound of the cimbalom since I was introduced to it during the course of a memorable visit to the legendary Le Grand Mayeur, the Russian/Hungarian taverne/restaurant, now sadly defunct, in Brussels.

Here's a regrettably short clip that features the Kalinke ensemble from Le Grand Mayeur:

  

Located in the Place du Grand Sablon, Brussels, Le Grand Mayeur was housed in a tall building (of 3 or 4 storeys) and the centre of each floor had been removed - making 3 mezzanine floors - so from the ground floor there was an uninterrupted view all the way up to the roof. It was candle-lit and, upon entering, there was an overpowering sensation you had entered a different world to the workaday Brussels outside. A gypsy orchestra consisting of a singer accompanied by a cimbalom, balalaika, guitar, piano, violin & bass provided the magic..

Le Grand 
Mayeur

Thé Slav

I think the bulk of the clientele must have originated from the backroom staff of many of the Central and Eastern European embassies based in Brussels - judging by the number of ill-fitting grey suits when I visited Le Grand Mayeur. One of the specialities of the house was Thé Slav - which was tea with Slivovitz or shoe polish (I was never quite sure which). The first indication that things were about to look up, or take a turn for the worse - or both - came the moment when the waitress served me with a glass cup of Thé Slav - pausing only to light it with a sudden whoof! The trick was to drink it before the flickering blue flame heated the rim of the glass sufficiently for it to bond directly to skin - as in lips! Drinking one felt like the blood in one's veins had been instantly replaced by 130 octane aviation fuel.. If the first cup tasted strong and removed all capacity for rational thought, the second scrambled all motor functions but curiously enabled you to understand Polish☺. So, a useful drink then.. The repertoire of the lively gypsy singer consisted of old folk songs which she sang in at least 5 or 6 central European languages, but somehow the enthusiastic cosmopolitan audience knew all the words, and after a Thé Slav or two, I found I did too..

That old favourite of mine - "Dark Eyes" - sounds very "listenable to" when played on the cimbalom:

This clip captures all the eerie echoing sound of the cimbalom that seems to speak to us from another time and another place:

Places like Le Grand Mayeur are few and far between. It seems bizarre that one had to visit a restaurant to discover that we shared a common folk heritage with our European neighbours. Le Grand Mayeur was far more than just "a nice restaurant with a band" - it reminded us that, whatever our nationality, we are all part of that broad river of humanity. Alas, for all of us, its doors have closed for the last time..

You may be excused for thinking that what started out as a look at the cimbalom has turned into a tribute to Le Grand Mayeur.. You'd be right!

The thing to drink there was a "Thé Slav" - tea served in a glass and flamed with (I think) slivovitz.. After one glass, you'd be humming all the tunes - and after two, you knew all the words!

So here, finally, is a last glimpse of it as it really was:

By the way, if anyone knows how to make Thé Slav, I'd be curious to find out. If you'd like to tell me, use the comment form below. Thanks!