D  e  s  e  r  t   E  x  p  o  s  u  r  e        January 2008

BAYOU SECO'S ROLLING POSTCARD

Sadly this festival was now over. But the next morning we found that our photo was on the whole front page of the only Basque newspaper, Berria, which means "New." (We had been billed at the festival as coming from "Mexico Berria.") What an honor! By now we had begun to realize how warm and wonderful these people are, and how lucky we were to have been invited.

We slept in on Sunday and then met Joseba and his family for a relaxed afternoon of eating (of course) and sightseeing in the nearby mountains. Lots of berets (mostly black) on people's heads. This is not a cliche, but a good type of head covering for any type of weather.

It was amazing to see what was growing — begonias, cyclamen and geraniums everywhere, even though the nighttime temperatures dropped down to close to freezing. The garden across from the restaurant had a lot of lettuce and chard, and still a few beans on the vines. The tomatoes had frozen only on the top of the plant. The peppers were still going pretty strong. All the houses and apartments have balconies full of flowers and colorful drying laundry.

Monday morning we said goodbye to Pas Vasco, and drove north to Biarritz to visit Kiki Borda, one of the festival musicians we had met. He gave us a good tour of the area, the highpoint being a visit to the town of Ezpeleta, the chile capital of the French Basque area. There were ristras hanging on all the walls of the houses. It was beautiful sight to our New Mexican eyes! The seeds of the piment d'espelette (mildly piquant) were brought to the area by travelers from South America in the 1700s, and they continue to be an important part of the Basque cuisine.

The next day we played music in the French Basque school (Ikastola) that Kiki's daughter attends. The kids appreciated our music a lot, especially when Ken clog-danced to "Cluck Old Hen." We ended the program by getting them to dance La Raspa. They already knew it! Ah, the far-reaching cultural crossover of dances and tunes. We also taught them a Navajo song, and how to make a New Mexican grito (exuberant yell). It's not too different from the high-pitched, bloodcurdling "triki" yell that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

We learned a few important words in the Basque lanquage — Egun on (hello), mesedez (please), eskerrik asko/milesker (thank you — depending on if you are in the south or the north), ontsa zizte (how are you?), adio (goodbye) and several others. Bai (the b is more like a v) means yes, but it is almost never said only once: Baiiii, bai, bai, bai, bai is more like it. Although this area has never been its own country, it is very proud and separate, and everyone speaks Basque. The language is ancient and predates the Celts and all the Indo-European languages. It has lots of x's and z's and k's. When you enter a town, the name for the town is always in Basque as well as French or Spanish — but often the name not in Basque was blacked out. And you must never say you like this part of Spain/France because it is neither; it is Euskadi. We know some Basque-origin people in New Mexico, and it has been fun to see their beautiful, fertile homeland, and learn about the customs here. We have also been impressed with the warmth and friendliness of everyone here.

Our next stop was north of the Pays Basque in Gascogne — Les Landes — a large, flat area south and east of Bordeaux that is all planted in pine trees for lumber. Before the trees were planted, we are told it was more like Louisiana — swamps and mosquitoes.

We visited the parents of fiddler Gilles Apap's accordionist for lunch en route. Josette and Gilbert Lafargue are such lovely people (our age), proud parents of a musician, and they served us all local food — foie gras, smoked ham, goose confit and sheep cheeses. We then continued on to Villandrault to spend our last three days with our longtime musician friend, Didier Oliver. The music of this area is also played on bagpipes, fiddles and accordions. Didier set up some workshops and a dance for us. I couldn't see traveling all the way to Europe for two 15-minute sets of music, plus we had never been to this part of France.

At the cole de Musique in the Centre Cultural des Carmes in Langon, we gave a New Mexican dance workshop, and two fiddle and accordion workshops. I had 16 kids, ages seven to 14, in my first two-hour class, and the next one was mostly adults. Ken had 10 accordion students, many of whom had never played "cross-key" (a bluesier way of approaching the melody, playing the accordion like a blues harmonica).

At the Grand Bal on Saturday night, five of my students joined us on stage and played five tunes with us that they had learned that morning — New Mexican, Tohono O'odham and Cajun. I told them they couldn't use any sheet music on stage, and I knew they could do it, if they put the tunes in their hearts. And of course they could, and they did. Now those tunes belong to them as well, and will be kept alive in their repertoires and passed on. Our New Mexican dances — the Broom Dance (origin possibly France), La Vaquera (Portuguese?) and La Valse de los Panos (Poland?) — were embraced by the dancers. We shared the evening with Didier's local group. We loved watching the dancers whirl through the mazurkas, rondeaus and bourres, and finally Ken joined the locals towards the end, dancing up a storm.

Alas, the next day we hit the road south to Bilbao — a four-hour drive on the motorway. We stopped in Lasarte to return to Joseba the three-row accordion that Ken had borrowed (so he wouldn't have to bring two boxes on the plane), and we spent our last night in a lovely Basque hotel perched high on a hill overlooking the twinkling lights of Bilbao. Unfortunately, there was no time to visit the Guggenheim museum there. But our new Basque friends wondered why we might want to go to that place, anyway. They said there is no art or history of their people in there. Could that be true? I'll find out next time. We had a light supper of pintxos (tapas) in a nearby bar, and the bartender had seen us on TV the night before. Fleeting moments of fame.

The next morning we returned the car, a Peugeot Partner — kind of like our favorite Renault Kangoo but not as nice — and caught the planes to Paris/Atlanta/Albuquerque. Twenty-four hours later, we collapsed into bed in Albuquerque, with all the tunes and tastes, friendships and sights of the past two weeks spinning by: "Ah, the Rolling Postcard, watch it all roll by. When I get on home to my own sweet bed, I can still watch it all roll by." k

Bayou Seco's annual 12th Night Dance will be Saturday, Jan. 5, 7:30-10:30 p.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship Hall, 3845 N. Swan St. in Silver City. The dance is a benefit for the Silver Nights Concert series. All dances will be swiftly taught and children are welcome. Ken Keppeler and Jeanie McLerie will be joined by some of their Las Cruces and Albuquerque band members as well as The Fiddling Friends and other surprise guests. $6 at the door, children (5-12) $3. For more information, call 534-0298 or email bayouseco@aol.com

Bayou Seco's Rolling Postcard adventure continues in April when they head back to the British Isles; expect to read about their travels in a future Desert Exposure.