I didn't get my hopes up too high. A gathering of people, young and old in orange polo shirts held instruments -- trumpets, saxophones, clarinets, flutes, drums. Could this motley gang of locals make good music?
There was another band setting up in the other corner of the square, and we had passed another band across town. Apparently, even our small town of 3,600 had several venues for music.
When the local band began, I put aside my skepticism.
We were surprised that they played in a circle with their backs to the everyone, watching their music leader, a trumpet player who won 3rd place for trumpeters in France.
I wasn't the only one who enjoyed the music. I videotaped these little guys dancing, and then panned over to the very drunk couple who were also dancing as if there was no one else in the square.
When the band finished, without a flourish, simply wandering away, I felt let down. I wanted more. Two other bands had set up. I wanted more music.
Instead, I got friends.
Jack and Jules wandered over from their house and we settled at an outdoor table, ordering Perrier for me, gin and tonic for Earl.
Before the next musician began, two other couples arrived as we pulled tables together and caught up before the guitarist and drummer entertained us with mostly American songs.
|Friends and music|
The music was infectious, and at one point Earl videotaped these women in the background dancing joyously, with abandon, and possibly without the influence of alcohol.
One woman, a dancer at heart, visited several bands doing her interpretive dance. Her partner stood alongside watching.
We stayed out until midnight before climbing the hills toward our house. Friends and music are quite a nice way to begin the summer in our new French life.