Carcassonne Chapter: Festival of Saint Jean

big party at the restaurant before the festivities

I went to Prades to watch the way they celebrate Saint John's Eve, by bringing the sacred fire of Canigou to the villages below. I would not be disappointed.

One of the interesting buildings

In the square

Canigou overlooks Prades

I didn't leave my hotel room until nearly 8:30, after a nice refreshing nap. It was hot and I did not feel like tackling the streets in the heat, so I read a bit and listened to the delighted cries of the children next door, outside in their pool. (It was a private residence; the hotel does not have a pool). It was a really happy sound.

Catalan bunting hangs from the platane trees

Finally I bestirred myself, re-dressed and got myself presentable to go out the door, in search of some dinner and the site of the fires. The main square of the town is less than a 2 minute walk from the door of the hotel. What a perfect location. The square shares space with both the mairie--mayor's office, and the church, Saint Peter's. An interesting sharing of church and state. The town has decided to prune its platane trees differently than is done here in Carcassonne. Instead of letting the trees get tall, they prune them to remain short, but to spread their canopy horizontally. Thius results in a wonderful shaded arbor. The branches were strung with Catalan flags.

Building the pallet bonfire

So typically French

The square is ringed by restaurants, the most popular of which seemed to be Cafe de la Paix. They had a long series of tables set up--there must have been 30-40 people in that party. Bottles of champagne lined the tables. These were locals. At first I thought it might be a wedding party, but apparently it was just the gathering of a group of people who'd come here to share the festivities. Recorded music was playing from the stage that had been set up and every once in a while the men would all sing along. It was all in Catalan, so I missed most of it, I guess. I was amazed at how few tourists there were--I saw only two others, an obvious tourist couple. The fanny pack gives them away every time. Maybe they didn't even know what was to come, because they left before the real activity began.

Traditional Catalan dance--all ages

One lovely thing (among many lovely things) about French dining is that nobody is in a hurry to get rid of you so they can turn the table.....once you order, that table, that seat is yours for almost as long as you want it. It was right on the edge of the shaded square. I was able to enjoy my dinner while observing the party in progress at the long table, and watch the square fill up with old people and lots and lots of children. It soon started to take on the air of the old-fashioned carnivals that I remember from my youthful summers. (Without the rides and midway games, of course) As it got darker, vendors began selling those glow in the dark bracelets and wax?-dipped torches...the fire was on its way. Some men came into the square and erected a brazier and some other men came along and dumped something in it, maybe charcoal or wood chunks? Other men set up some barricades to make an enclosure in the street in front of the square, and soon there was a pyre built of pallets. The fire department arrived, with a contingent of handsome French firefighters The fire was definitely getting nearer.

Brazier is ready

Reading of the speech

Actually the fire was being transported by men on horseback. I don't think they'd ridden the whole way down Canigou, but I could certainly be wrong. Some instrumental music came from the loudspeakers and a group of men and women formed a circle and began dancing. It involved some hopping and tapping and I could see no pattern, or correlation between the beat of the music and the steps they were performing. They held hands the entire time, but their arms were up, not by their sides. It's hard to imagine that they didn't get tired. But I guess with practice, they get used to it.

Young man reads the same speech in Catalan--keeping the language alive

Then a local dignitary came to the microphone and began reading an impassioned statement in French about the fire of Canigou, the flame of Catalan and the need to remember. After he finished, a young man who looked to be about 12 read the same statement in Catalan. |This heritage runs bone deep here. The crowd loved it.

Magnificent arrival of the flame of Canigou

From which the community members light their torches

Then accompanied by drums, came the horsemen. The lead horseman came into the area by the brazier. He was riding a magnificent horse--huge and spirited. It looked like a smallish Percheron, and they are BIG horses. This horse was snorting and prancing--his rider had his hands full trying to control him-- and the police came and herded us all back. At that point the rider, dressed in typical Catalan garb, with the Catalan flag as a saddle blanket, flung his lit torch to the brazier, and galloped--yes galloped--away. The flames shot up and the crowd roared. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. Something in me responded on a level so deep that I am at a loss to explain it.

Parading through the streets

The crowd then came to the brazier and lit their own torches, got in line behind the horsemen and paraded through Prades to the beats of the accompanying drums and musicians. We waited at the site of the pallets for the marchers to make their rounds of the town. I was impressed to see old people and young people keeping alive this tradition. Things like this don't die out here because people make an effort. It's one of the reasons I love the region.

The drummer expresses the way we all were feeling

Before long, the parade returned, led by the horsemen. The police opened the barricade to let them in to the pallet pyre, and one by one, they threw in the lit torches they'd been carrying. Then came all the marchers, who added their own torches to the flames and the fire really got going! I know that in the past, in some areas of Europe, the practice has been to jump over the fires....but there was no jumping here--those flames were at times 15-20 feet high. Music played, people danced, the crowd cheered.

Lighting the bonfire

Marchers add their torches

Yes, there was a little bit of carnival atmosphere to it all, but not in a bad way. The rituals of summer that I remember were carried out here; young women flirting with firemen; adolescents preening and walking to gain the attention of the opposite sex; old people sitting on benches, observing and most likely judging; young children running heedlessly through the crowd. I watched one woman, about my age, sing along to an old French crooner, singing directly to her husband. When we locked eyes, she smiled at me. I got a sense of a strong community.