fête de la musique

 I have a music hangover.

Yesterday was the national (now international) music festival, Fête de la Musique. When I was in Chambéry during the summer of 2008, we attended the fête in Lyon. (I posted about it on my Frenchie Summer blog.) We danced & drank all day. I was eager to share the holiday with Joe.

One of my good friends/ex-students invited us to her roommate's show, & we spent the rest of the evening out–as did at least 9,000 other Nancy residents. The. streets. were. packed. Musicians were everywhere. Cheap beer was for sale everywhere: bars opened their large front windows & set up booths for beer; boutiques were taking advantage of the crowds & selling goods from coolers; plastic cups were everywhere.

The lights, kegs & general conviviality reminded me so much of home–summer days spent walking around the fair & community festivals. Families were out, all ages mixing & dancing to African music, Salsa, electro-mixed rave sounds... or nothing. There was a silent corner on one street, filled with mimes–white-gloved hands moving through synchronized hand motions.

With each day, I become more attached to my friends remaining in Nancy. Having eight hours to run through the streets, sweating & shaking our hair & arms & torsos to bass so loud it shook our muscle fibers, was a night that seemed to seal the untouchable bond I have with these girls. (Here's a quick photo from early in the night–the sun's even still up. Not pictured: Aurora, a lovely Texan girl who has spent several years making Nancy her home.)

The night brought out so many emotions I've been bouncing between. I've lost the sense of any concrete "home" & know that I'll forever feel torn between the United States & France. Lately, I've been worrying that the relationship was one-sided. Last night, I felt so much affection coming my way.

While walking through the main square to get to the next concert, I saw students' waving hands; I had several students that have become friends pop up to say hi; I saw friends I've been missing for weeks. We even ran into the married couple who had shared our sleeper cabin on the train to Montpellier. We were at home, part of a community, moving through a town that we'd fully become a part of.

The night was perfect in a way no night has been perfect. Dancing in the street, we were flanked by lightening. Occasional thunder roared about the clusters of club music. We stopped for kebab on the way home, & I sat on the patio watching tiny raindrops fall. We walked into the apartment. The storm let loose, & I collapsed on the bed–as if we were equally exhausted from holding it all in.

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