79. The brown brown grass of home

16th August 2010. I've been trying to encourage the lawn in our garden to grow green and weed-free for the past few years but I'm starting to wonder if I'm flogging a dead horse. After a long hot rain-free summer, the 'lawn' is definitely bien cuite.. ie, burnt brown and patchy, despite raising the height of the cut on the lawn mower. After weeks of baking heat with no rain - just the odd shower - we had a torrential downpour at 6am on Sunday morning that was so loud it sounded as though the house was being driven through a car wash. But it was a case of too much too late - the damage had already been done. Needless to say, I'm going to have to try again. There must surely be a variety of grass that can tolerate the climate here.

This evening we walked over to the beautifully landscaped gardens that have been laid out in and around the old ramparts surrounding Bayonne. It was so pleasant to sit there on a warm evening (25C in the shade when we returned home) almost in the heart of Bayonne and yet be in such a peaceful setting.  There's clearly an enlightened council at work here.

17th August 2010. This morning I finally loaded up the car with all the junk from the cellar and took it to the nearby déchetterie on the banks of the Adour.

Whilst there, I spotted a nice wooden winebox that had contained Château Plantey 'Pauillac' that somehow jumped into the back of my car.. I must admit to collecting these (below) and it seems I'm not alone!

Rowed this evening.. had a good outing in an VIII. Did 15km.. (Running total: 41km)

18th August 2010. We went for a bike ride this morning along the Adour as far as Villefranque. It must be almost 20km there and back. It seems only a few months ago that the first shoots of corn started poking through and now the fields are a good 8 feet high with a rustling mass of corn stalks, and I believe the corn is destined for animal feed.

19th August 2010. Arriving at the rowing club this evening I spotted the team coach for the Agen rugby club who play Bayonne tomorrow parked outside the hotel nearby. And as I was walking away from the club after the outing, I noticed 5 massively built South Sea islanders with their Easter Island profiles in their Agen t-shirts strolling along the river bank.. It's not until you see the new generation of rugby players that you realise just how big they are. And as for trying to stop one with the ball running at you..

Very warm out on the river this evening.. went out in a quad sculler and did 10km (Running total: 51km) 

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!  

77. Blast from the past

8th August 2010. I thought I'd take the dog for an early morning walk while it was still cool to his favourite - the Place des Basques - a grassy tree-lined square on the edge of the town centre - where he can go loose. We were walking down the big avenue that's lined with apartment buildings on one side which leads to the Place when I thought I heard in the distance the distinctive sound of a street organ. I suddenly realised that the mellifluous tones weren't coming from a radio somewhere but from the genuine article. This was the first time I've heard one of these in years and it was being pulled along the road surface by a father and son team.. (straight out of a 60s Italian film - except they were probably East Europeans) Mounted on rubber tyres, it was about the same size as the one in the clip below and it sounded very similar.. Pops was cranking the handle and Junior was holding out a tin cup to catch any centimes that might be thrown down from the balconies..

At just after 9am on a Sunday morning, I thought they were being just a tad optimistic in trying to generate some interest and a few euros from the still-shuttered apartment blocks. I doubt if many people would be up and about and the only people out on the streets were a few dog-walkers like me or those in search of a fresh croissant or baguette. I think the penny suddenly dropped with him too for he suddenly stopped the music in mid-crank and they headed back towards town.  

I'd like to have filmed the two of them as it was a real sound from an age gone by..

For the last few evenings we've had to endure the sound of bullfights from Les Arènes (just a few hundred metres away) - the stupid music, the whistles, the applause and the jeers.. I don't understand how, in an otherwise civilised society, the State can continue to sanction the practice of this degrading and cruel activity within its territory in the 21st century. And, to add further insult to injury, the bull ring is part-financed from our local taxes.

If bull-fighting is to continue, then this is the sort of level playing field I'd like to see a lot more of. In my view (and you may have your own opinion) these spectators got exactly what they deserved: