February 2011: A Northern France Carnaval

Flashback to here. Post-Morocco early March. Ten amazing days, first time on the African continent, first time in a Muslim country. I still think about that time, that place - the colors, the smells, the sun, the warmth, the food, the people - such a change from gray dreary Lille in February.

If time was a falafel sandwich, Morocco was the falafel. The pita bread was Carnaval, directly before and directly after. Dunkerque, the war-famous northernmost French city, is also famous for it's nearly 2 month long weekly celebration of all things colorful, draggy, furry, feathery, drunk-on-the-beachy, and nearly getting crushed in a street parade with linked arms. Yes, people definitely die or at least get seriously injured every year. But it's a classic ch'ti tradition and I couldn't miss it.

In February, Vélorution Lille - the city's Critical Mass/bike advocacy group - organized a Saturday bike ride around the city and northern suburb La Madeleine. Of course, we were dressed to the 9s, me in borrowed gear.

I love and miss this wacky, no-holds-barred street party side of Lille. Reclaim the streets in style. There's nothing like cycling through the city with dozens of horn-honking, song-belting Carnavaleurs.

I never did get as involved with Vélorution as I wanted, never learned to fix or build bikes much, but it seems that I came the year when regular rides were no longer happening. When I think about it now, I suddenly don't feel guilty. All I had to do was admit that I love riding a bike, but I'm no mechanic. And had I invested in a decent machine instead of mooching off others', it would have been an even better experience. If I had enough money for plane tickets and bus rides, I surely had enough for a used bike. Conclusion: don't be a cheapskate and don't sacrifice your own convenience.

The day of the Carnaval Vélorution is a good example of experience overload that I engaged in on a continous basis, particularly as the weather began to improve. That evening, L'Univers cinema was screening the Calais documentary. I think I had already been to a NoBorder meeting or two, but seeing the film and listening to the discussion, really solidified my desire to go there and see the reality on the ground. Calais deserves its own post. The point is, I saw almost everybody I knew, met a bunch of new people and biked all over Lille in one day. And I just kept going and going after that...

So with buzzing thoughts of migrant activism, long bike rides and intensifying the "food not bombs" Lille project, I headed off to Morocco. Without hardly haven read a damn thing on that country's part in the Arab Spring. All I knew is we would stay with my Moroccan friend's family in Marrakech.
But that's another post.

On my return, Marine and I hit the ground running with the weekly dumpstering, cooking and serving. So one sunny Saturday, we realized the next day was the "big" Dunkerque Carnaval so hop! we were there! After a bit of disorganized coordination, we were on the party train to the Northern beach town and pretty quickly got ourselves good and liquered up. That Sunday was quite a blur that included wandering around and catching a late train back. Considering I had to work the next day, maybe not the best decision. But hey, it's Carnaval!

It was still too cold for comfort in the beginning of March, but the next weekend was warmer so it was back to Dunkerque for Malo des Bains, Carnaval on the beach! Also a crazy party train with a different crowd of people, mostly environmental activists and cyclists instead of hippie artists.

Carnaval is great fun, a great atmosphere and the best part might be the SONGS - I can't believe I just found this complete site with all of them. I never did much of Mardi Gras and beyond that, nowhere I've lived in the States has the same zest for colorful costumes and massive human street parades. People are stupid and wasted here as you might expect.

But it's not the same as Mardi Gras or St. Patty's Day. I think Carnaval is a really special celebration of life, theater and the camarederie that comes from being totally ridiculous with close friends and complete strangers.