What I learned on my trip to Belgium:
Delta Airlines sucks ass.
Not only did the line for international check-in snake way out the door and down the ramp, so we were all waiting on the check-in line outside the terminal on one of the hottest days of the year, but my red-eye flight arrived a full 3 hours late. This meant interrupted sleep and less time to relax before rehearsal. And less rehearsal. Which would have been fine, except I'm pretty much as busy as I've ever been in my life and I only met the third singer at the Brussels airport. The day I arrived. The same day as the gig. Kudos to Jewlia for having so much faith in our abilities.
In Belgium, folk music isn't just for hippies.
The driver assigned to us by the Dranouter Folk Festival picked Maya and me up at the Brussels airport. The highway looked as all highways look everywhere in the world until we got about an hour into the drive. Lush, green fields of young corn plants opened up on either side of the highway, interrupted by still, masticating cows, or blue-green cabbage patches. I was pretty grateful for the overcast, misty skies, considering the exhausting heat we had to deal with at the end of last week.
The folk festival itself takes place every year in some empty fields in the countryside of Heuvelland in the village of Dranouter, close to Lille, France. A huge blue circus tent housed the mainstage, a smaller red tent with seating covered the second stage (where we performed), and an even smaller tent secured the stage for smaller local acts. Fresh hay was scattered all over the muddy grounds, which were kept impressively tidy, I imagine, by the festivalgoers.
I expected dreadlocked, ganja smoking hippies reveling in muddy fields at the Dranouter Folk Festival. But while the campsites were well-populated, the audience appeared to be mostly straight-laced, if drunken, youngish folk enjoying amenities like a gummi candy station, doorless chemical urinals and free shirt washing services sponsored by an environmentally friendly detergent company. The only people playing in the mud were children under 10.
Our 7:00 gig was okay; I fucked up a couple of times. I pride myself on usually being a reliable pro. I blame Delta entirely. Sorry, Dranouter. I'll do better next time.
"Do you want to know who is Zap Mama? Yes we want to know who is Zap Mama!"
It didn't help any that Zap Mama was scheduled to start their set a half hour into our set. We hightailed it over to the mainstage to catch the second half of their set. WORSHIP Marie Daulne. Not only is the music extremely danceable and groovy and soulful and deep; not only is she goddess gorgeous and charismatic to the extreme; not only did she get the audience to sing backup pygmy chants; but at the end of the set, she did cartwheels, handstands, and THE WORM across the stage. FIERCE. I so want to be in her tribe.
Flemish is hard.
Ieper (YIP-prr)
Brugge (BRRU-chuh ["ch" as in "challah", not "chalk"])
Brussel (BRRU-sel)
Not even the Belgian king gets Flemish right, according to our driver, Johann.
JOHANN: Because the kings traditionally speak French, the king doesn't sound right when he speaks Flemish.
GANDA: Like what?
JOHANN: Well, like...the "w"s, a Flemish person will say "wir", but the king will say something like..."wir".
[pause]
GANDA: I can't hear the difference.
JOHANN: Yes, well, a Flemish speaking person can hear it.
Beer -- still not for me. Not even strong Belgian beer.
I was told that if I were ever going to learn to love beer, it would be in Belgium, where the alcohol content of a good brown beer like Trappist is higher than 5%. I tried Maes, the alcohol sponsor of the event. It was alright...for beer. Still, I'll never be able to swallow enough beer to get drunk or full, so I guess that's that.
Sometimes you have to ask the dumb American question.
[On the early morning ride back to the airport]
GANDA: So do you really eat Brussels sprouts in Belgium?
JEWLIA: [laughing] I can't believe you didn't ask about this earlier.
JOHANN: I don't know this word.
GANDA: It's like...they're like cabbages?
JEWLIA: Kraut.
GANDA: Yeah, like small kraut? Very small. Like this. [I put my thumb and index together in a circle.]
JOHANN: Ah yes, it is a winter vegetable? We have this. We eat this. But most people don't like it.
GANDA: What are they called?
JOHANN: Sproits. [Phonetic interpretation --Ed.]
GANDA: Yeah, most people don't like them in the States either. But I like them.
JEWLIA: I like 'em too.
JOHANN: I like them also.
*****
Part 1 of 2. Read Part 2 here
Tool: Bodum Coffee Press
