My plans for the day involved:
- a brief exploration of the town, identifying potential eating and watering venues
- purchase of mineral water at more reasonable prices than the €1.70 for a very small bottle
- lunch
- collect tickets from Le Train Théatre
- return to hotel for siesta (an excellent habit, practised not only in Spain, but anywhere that I happen to be and where I can get away with it.)
- Back to the town for the evening's entertainment.
Thank you for the detailed and slightly boring explanation.
I collected a wheelie-basket and headed for the water, a short journey which involved passing along the alcohol aisle - aah, Jenlain Ambrée. Two cans were placed in the basket, just in case there was a mineral water shortage. There wasn't, so a further supply of Evian and Badoit was added to the basket, along with some TUC crackers, LU caramelised biscuits and a fork and spoon. The latter items just in case at some point during the week I needed to eat a 'meal' back in my hotel room. I was on the point of making more food purchases, but then thought about the weight involved, and the walk back to the hotel.
Since there wasn't a shortage of mineral water, I don't suppose you replaced the Jenalin Ambrée on the shelf?
No.
Then it was back out into the rain, and further exploration to identify the location of the Theatre. It wasn't far, but the ticket office wasn't scheduled to open until 13.30, and it was only 11.15. So the exploration on foot continued, until the foot, or feet were getting a little tired. Time for something to eat. was it to be Boeuf Bourgignon at Le Café de la Place, a pizza at Jo's, a kebab at the Antiochan, or an oriental menu at the Lam. Having observed a small group of people entering the last of these town centre eateries, I decided to follow their example.
Having been shown to a table, and perused the menu, I decided upon the €15.50 menu, since this was likely to be my main meal of the day. My selection was a salade saigonaise to start, a poulet gingembre with riz cantonnaise, with a beer as dessert. The service was excellent, the food very palatable and the beer OK (a small bottle of Heiniken). I tasted the best prawn crackers I have ever eaten - really thick and flavoursome. As I finished and stood to put on my coat, the owner of the restaurant, who had been outside the front door for a moment, entered and moved towards me, signalling with his hand. Initially I didn't understand the sign, which could be interpreted as either an insult to the size of my manhood or as an invitation to have a short drink. I had already turned down the offer of coffee, so it wasn't until he approached more closely and asked if I didn't have time for a complimentary sake that I felt reassured that I wasn't being insulted. He then brought a tiny china bowl and a bottle of sake, and proceeded to fill the bowl to the brim. Mmmm. Or Miammiam as they say in Montréal.
I left the restaurant with an inner glow, and walked up to the Train Theatre, arriving about ten minutes early. I looked again at the posters advertising this week's concerts, and walked around in ever-decreasing circles until, at last, a young lady came and unlocked the door. Asking if I was there for the billeterie, and taking heedance of my positive reply, she led me to the said ticket-office. Once ther she seemed to know all about me.
All about you? I hope not, for her sake. (Awkward that word 'sake' isn't it? Could be rice wine, or not, as in this case.)
No not all about me, but my name, and that I might have made the journey to Portes-les-Valence in my motor-caravan. Ah, so this was the young lady with whom I had spoken by telephone. But no, she had been present when I had called, but hadn't actually spoken to me. We spoke about the various artistes appearing during the week, and the withdrawal of Zachary Richard from the programme. She commented positively on my self-produced T-shirt, and then I left with tickets and festival programme safely tucked in one of the 18 pockets available to me. Clutching umbrella and shopping in one had and the other positioned to stop my back-pack sliding off my shoulder, I made my way back to the hotel, for what was a much needed siesta.
I arrived back at Le Train at about 19.20, the concert due to begin at 20.30. I had caught a bus which brought me to the town centre by a very circuitous route. ( I could probably have got there quicker on foot, but at least my feet weren't made to suffer.) On the way to Le Train I stopped off in a bar for a couple of Pelforth Printemps, a light but flavoursome beer. Light in colour, flavoursome and seemingly strong. There were a few people in the theatre foyer when I arrived, and not long afterwards I recognised the face of a gentleman who was walking purposely towards me. Alain Ji - a recent Facebook friend and resident of Valence, who had provided me with very useful information about the Festival during preceding weeks. After a period of conversation (not a word of English passed between us) Alain was called off to do something, and I was then approached by a lady who who, it transpired, had also been in Facebook contact with Alain, and had recognised me from the photo on my profile. Catherine Gislain had driven up from her home in Montpelier for the festival, and it was wonderful to have Catherine and Alain to talk to before the show, during the interval and afterwards, rather than standing about like a wally. As the foyer filled, I noticed another familiar face, that of Damien Robitaille, whose concert I attended last November in Québec City, and who is performing here tonight (Wednesday). Alain and I had a swift word with him, and then I noticed another familiar visage - Nicolas Jules, who had supported Damien at Le Theatre du Petit-Champlain that night.
The doors of the auditorium opened and everyone filed in. My seat number was C3, so I presumed I would be at the extremity of row C. No, it wasn't at the left extremity..... no, it wasn't at the right extremity. Someday I may understand how the seats are numbered in French venues, but upto now no, so it took me a while to find the single seat right in the centre of row C. One of the best seats in the house, I would say. Thank you, ladies of the billeterie!
First on was Gaele, born in France, but now a quebecoise resident. She is as Alain exclaimed before the show, 'plein d'energie' - full of energy. Her songs ranged from a beautiful melancholy to manic. It was a wonderful and well-received performance from the packed theatre (about 400 people, I think).
Photo by Alain Ji.
More conversation during the interval, and then back in to the auditorium for the headlining act - Richard Desjardins, a quebecoix institution, Poet and song-writer, he has been compared to fellow Canadian Leonard Cohen, and commands tremendous respect in his homeland and beyond. His quebecoix accent proved to be quite a theme for the evening, it proving difficult in some cases for the French audience to understand him, much to his and their delight. Songs, poems, stories filled out a solo performance which began at 22.00. Very powerful, thought-provoking, amusing and entertaining, even though my personal level of language/accent understanding did not allow me to appreciate everything fully.
Photo by Alain Ji.
And afterwards, talking again with Catherine and Alain, I glanced up to the top of the stairs which lead to the upper rows, and saw two more familiar faces: the Gosselin brothers, Jeremie and Erik, two of the amazing Manitoban group "Les Surveillantes." I caught their eye and raised my glass of sparkling wine, provided free of charge, and was delighted to see their smiling response. Shortly afterwards they joined us, along with Denis and Danielle, and we had a good chat. They think I would enjoy the Winnipeg Folk Festival. So do I, but ......! Then they were greeted by Damien Robitaille.
Photo by Alain Ji.
Photos were taken and it was time to walk back to the hotel. I hope to see 'Les Surveillantes' again today, tomorrow, both at Le train, and then again on Saturday, in Valence. You can't get too much of a good thing. Tomorrow I'll wear my Les Surveillantes T-shirt, and hopefully, as Danielle suggested, have a photograph taken with them.
It was raining heavily on the way back to the hotel. Thank goodness for the umbrella! The TUC crackers were consumed, along with one can of Jenlain - at 01.30, that might not have been such a good idea, at 7.5%.
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