Bayou Seco’s Rolling Postcard
NOVEMBER 2007 Basque Country
Berets and Balconies, Chile Ristras and Fast Accordeon Music
by Jeanie McLerie and Ken Keppeler
(first published in the Jan 2008 Desert Exposure)
Sometimes we are amazed how far we can travel on the wings of a good old New Mexican polka. We arrived in Euskal Herria - Basque Country - on a Thursday morning in early November, after 20 hours of flying and changing planes three times. A low lying fog covered the ground, but a lot of mountains were visible above the clouds, and then we could see the sea shining in the early morning sun. It looked quite magical and alluring, and when we saw the terminal in Bilbao which was designed to evoke a dove of peace, we knew we were in for a special time in this unusual and vibrant area. We had been invited by the fantastic accordeonist, Joseba Tapia, to take part (two 15 minute sets) in a Diatonic Accordeon Festival of duos. Diatonic button boxes play a different note, depending on whether you push or pull. Accordeon and tamborine is the traditional format for the local trikitixa (pronounced trikitisha) music. So along with us, there was an accordeon duo from Belgium and Catalonia, a duo from the French Basque Country who played accordeon and fiddle, a bandoneon (Argentinian style of squeezebox) and electric guitar, a twenty year old Italian powerhouse named Simone Bottasso who played everything from traditional northern Italian music up to “Take Five”, and some of his own interesting compositions, (he didn’t need a partner), as well as four groups from this area.
There was no time for jet lag because every moment of the weekend was heavily programmed. But fortunately for us, the nightime hours were like our day, since we were eight hours ahead of New Mexico, so it wasn’t too hard to stay up late - between 2 and 3:30 three nights in a row. We caught a nap the first afternoon, and then it was off to the cider house for a evening of regional entertainment. First, everyone in our group went into a room full of vats of cider in various degrees of fermentation. The spigot was opened, and every one lined up and made a pass with their wide mouthed glass under the stream of cider catching about 1-2 inches of the delightful, not very alcoholic brew. There were 17 floor to ceiling vats. The old ones were made of wood, and the newer ones of stainless steel. Everyone drank their glass and then ceremoniously dumped the dregs on the floor before heading back to the table (with an empty glass) to eat the first course of reconstituted salt cod, cooked with eggs in an omelet fashion. We were not given plates, only sharp knives, and cloth napkins, but the lovely small round loaves of bread on the table were cut into fourths, and we convieniently used them to catch the juices between the serving plate and our mouths. The second plate was a type of fresh white fish, grilled with green peppers. Delicious!! Then came the “big meat” as our host Joseba Tapia called it. It was hunks of grilled beef on the bone. It was very rare and tender, and well salted before being cooked. In fact, we never saw salt and pepper on the table while we were in Euskadi, because everything was well seasoned before being served. It wouldn’t be a good place for a low salt diet though. All the while, we made return visits to the vats of cider, trying different batches of various ages. A very young one was still pink and not at all fermented tasting. And very delicious I might add. Most of the people at our table only ate at the table, and only drank the cider in the vat room. The finale was plates of Etorki (Brebis/Sheep) cheese from the nearby Pyrenées, with big slabs of membrillo which is like a hard jelly made of quince or apple. And there were baskets of walnuts, which some folks cracked open with their bare hands! We were told not to cut the cheese, but to break off a piece before using the knife to trim off the rind. After all this we went upstairs to the bar and had a rocking jam session of trikitixa music with four accordeonists, and as many tamborine players. They all sang together in full harmony, and it was absolutely georgeous. At this point we were happy with water, but the drink of choice seemed to be CocaCola and red wine mixed together. I had never heard of that one, and frankly didn’t want to taste it either. The music was beautiful. It is such a treat to be in a place where the traditional music is well loved and very popular, and happening all the time in the town squares, bars, at fiestas and so forth. There are a lot of bands, some with fairly young players. Even though the TV and radio blast out the usual Europop and American stuff, it looks like this vibrant tradition will stay alive. Here is a link to a youtube video with two young guys playing Basque music on the accordion, it is a very typical sound.
The next day we were picked up by Joseba at the hotel at 11 AM, made the one hour drive back to Bilbao from Lasarte near Donostia (St. Sebastien) where we were staying. First we checked in at the theater, then we ate lunch at an Irish Pub - a first course of salad and very thinly sliced smoked ham, then fish or meat or an omelette, all served with sweet roasted red peppers, and any manner of desserts - our favorite one being sheep yogurt or fresh sheep’s cheese. Then the sound check, and getting to know all the musicians, trading CD’s, and finally the concert at 8 PM. It went well, and it was great to hear all the different music. Our “Chile Verde, Chile Rojo” song went down very well for obvious reasons. After the concert we all went to the Irish Pub for the reception, and more music by a local “triki” band - fandangos, mazurkas & biribilketas (6/8 ryhthm). Everyone danced up a storm. We were back at the hotel by 2 AM.
The next morning we left at noon and went into the beautiful port town of Donostia to the Kursaal (600 seat theatre/convention hall). We put our instruments in our dressing rooms and left for lunch at a nearby café - the same kind of food, and always the roasted peppers along side the main dish. Then it was back to the theatre for sound checks and TV Co-ordination, since it was all filmed for TV. Each group was asked a question in the Basque language and had to answer it in their language. Ken told everyone in Spanish why the accordeon is so popular in the cultures of music we play. “It is because this is a music you play by ear and from the heart, and you can’t learn it from written notes because it is almost impossible to write down.” There was a huge TV screen behind us on stage showing close ups of the musicians hands and fingers. Luckily we couldn’t see it while we played. The concert was great, and we all watched it from underneath the stage on the TV monitors, especially fun when the performer was exuberantly tapping his foot. Someday we may have a DVD of this concert. Afterwards was another reception, more formal, with eighty people being served a very nice five course, traditional meal. Entertainment followed, with some elderly men playing the older “triki” style with accordeon, tamborine and gaita (bagpipe without the bag.) Very energetic and amazing. Later on the younger kids started playing, and many people danced the Fandango, which is the wild, and very old dance of the region - both arms held up in the air, fingers snapping and feet moving very fast. WOW! We got to bed at 3:30 AM and were plenty tired. Sadly this festival was now over. Except 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 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 to the festival.
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 peoples heads. This is not a cliché, but a good type of head covering for any type of weather. It is amazing to see what is growing - begonias, cyclamen and geraniums everywhere, even though the nightime temperatures drop 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 appartments have balconies full of flowers and colorful drying laundry. We saw many pelota (hand ball) courts, at least one in each town. This is a very popular and ancient sport.
Monday morning we said goodbye to País 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 which is the chile capitol 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 piquante) were brought to the area by travellers from South America in the 1700’s, and they continue to be a very important part of the Basque cuisine. We had noticed this! 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 N.M. grito (exuberent 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 have learned a few important words in the Basque lanquage - Egun on (hello), mesedez (please), eskerrik asko or 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. It is interesting to note that this area, which has never been it’s own country, 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. The Basque people support the businesses that are run by Basques. They wanted us to do the same, and we did so, as much as possible. When you enter a town, there are always the names for the town in Basque as well as French/Spanish. Very often the name not in Basque was blacked out. And you must never say you like this part of Spain/France because it is not either one. 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 very impressed with the warmth and friendliness of everyone here.
Our next stop was north of the Pays Basque in Gascogne - Les Landes - a very large, flat area south and east of Bordeaux that is all planted to pine trees. The trees are grown for the lumber. Before they were planted, we are told it was more like Louisiana - swamps and mosquitoes. We visited the parents of fiddler Gilles Apap’s accordeonist 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 - the fois gras, the smoked ham, the confit d’oie and the sheep cheeses. And we then continued on to Villandrault, SW of Langon to spend our last three days with our longtime dear musician friend Didier Oliver. The music of this area is also played on bagpipes, fiddles and accordeons. Didier was very nice to set up some workshops and a dance for us. I couldn’t see travelling all the way to Europe for two 15 minute sets of music, plus we had never been to this part of France. At the Ecole de Musique in the Centre Cultural des Carmes in Langon, we gave a N.M. dance workshop, and two fiddle and accordeon workshops the next day. I had sixteen kids, ages 7-14 in my first two hour class, and the next one was mostly adults. Ken had ten accordeon students, many whom had never played “cross-key” (which is a bluesier way of approaching the melody by playing the accordeon like a blues harmonica.) At the Grand Bal on Saturday night, five of my students joined us on stage and played five tunes (N.M., Tohono O’odham, and Cajun) with us that they had learned that morning. I told them they couldn’t use any music on stage, and I knew they could do it, if they put the tunes in their hearts. And yes, of course they could, and they did. Now those tunes belong to them as well, and will be kept alive in their repetoires 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 bourrées, and finally Ken joined the locals towards the end, dancing up a storm. We do hope to return soon.
Alas, the next day we hit the road south to Bilbao - a four hour drive on the motorway. We stopped in Lasarte to return the 3 row accordeon to Joseba, that Ken had borrowed (so that 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 no time to visit the Guggenheim museum there. But our new Basque friends wondered why we might want to go to that place. 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 Peugeout 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.”
It is always very nice to return to Silver City and get back to our life here. I have some great new tunes to share with my wonderful Fiddling Friends. And we need to cool out for a bit before continuing our Rolling Postcard adventure in April when we head back to the British Isles for more concerts, tune travelling, and musical enlightenment.
Note: Five other Rolling Postcards from Ken and Jeanie's other trips to Europe can be found at desertexposure.com. Their own web site is bayouseco.com.
Berets and Balconies, Chile Ristras and Fast Accordeon Music
by Jeanie McLerie and Ken Keppeler
(first published in the Jan 2008 Desert Exposure)
Sometimes we are amazed how far we can travel on the wings of a good old New Mexican polka. We arrived in Euskal Herria - Basque Country - on a Thursday morning in early November, after 20 hours of flying and changing planes three times. A low lying fog covered the ground, but a lot of mountains were visible above the clouds, and then we could see the sea shining in the early morning sun. It looked quite magical and alluring, and when we saw the terminal in Bilbao which was designed to evoke a dove of peace, we knew we were in for a special time in this unusual and vibrant area. We had been invited by the fantastic accordeonist, Joseba Tapia, to take part (two 15 minute sets) in a Diatonic Accordeon Festival of duos. Diatonic button boxes play a different note, depending on whether you push or pull. Accordeon and tamborine is the traditional format for the local trikitixa (pronounced trikitisha) music. So along with us, there was an accordeon duo from Belgium and Catalonia, a duo from the French Basque Country who played accordeon and fiddle, a bandoneon (Argentinian style of squeezebox) and electric guitar, a twenty year old Italian powerhouse named Simone Bottasso who played everything from traditional northern Italian music up to “Take Five”, and some of his own interesting compositions, (he didn’t need a partner), as well as four groups from this area.
There was no time for jet lag because every moment of the weekend was heavily programmed. But fortunately for us, the nightime hours were like our day, since we were eight hours ahead of New Mexico, so it wasn’t too hard to stay up late - between 2 and 3:30 three nights in a row. We caught a nap the first afternoon, and then it was off to the cider house for a evening of regional entertainment. First, everyone in our group went into a room full of vats of cider in various degrees of fermentation. The spigot was opened, and every one lined up and made a pass with their wide mouthed glass under the stream of cider catching about 1-2 inches of the delightful, not very alcoholic brew. There were 17 floor to ceiling vats. The old ones were made of wood, and the newer ones of stainless steel. Everyone drank their glass and then ceremoniously dumped the dregs on the floor before heading back to the table (with an empty glass) to eat the first course of reconstituted salt cod, cooked with eggs in an omelet fashion. We were not given plates, only sharp knives, and cloth napkins, but the lovely small round loaves of bread on the table were cut into fourths, and we convieniently used them to catch the juices between the serving plate and our mouths. The second plate was a type of fresh white fish, grilled with green peppers. Delicious!! Then came the “big meat” as our host Joseba Tapia called it. It was hunks of grilled beef on the bone. It was very rare and tender, and well salted before being cooked. In fact, we never saw salt and pepper on the table while we were in Euskadi, because everything was well seasoned before being served. It wouldn’t be a good place for a low salt diet though. All the while, we made return visits to the vats of cider, trying different batches of various ages. A very young one was still pink and not at all fermented tasting. And very delicious I might add. Most of the people at our table only ate at the table, and only drank the cider in the vat room. The finale was plates of Etorki (Brebis/Sheep) cheese from the nearby Pyrenées, with big slabs of membrillo which is like a hard jelly made of quince or apple. And there were baskets of walnuts, which some folks cracked open with their bare hands! We were told not to cut the cheese, but to break off a piece before using the knife to trim off the rind. After all this we went upstairs to the bar and had a rocking jam session of trikitixa music with four accordeonists, and as many tamborine players. They all sang together in full harmony, and it was absolutely georgeous. At this point we were happy with water, but the drink of choice seemed to be CocaCola and red wine mixed together. I had never heard of that one, and frankly didn’t want to taste it either. The music was beautiful. It is such a treat to be in a place where the traditional music is well loved and very popular, and happening all the time in the town squares, bars, at fiestas and so forth. There are a lot of bands, some with fairly young players. Even though the TV and radio blast out the usual Europop and American stuff, it looks like this vibrant tradition will stay alive. Here is a link to a youtube video with two young guys playing Basque music on the accordion, it is a very typical sound.
The next day we were picked up by Joseba at the hotel at 11 AM, made the one hour drive back to Bilbao from Lasarte near Donostia (St. Sebastien) where we were staying. First we checked in at the theater, then we ate lunch at an Irish Pub - a first course of salad and very thinly sliced smoked ham, then fish or meat or an omelette, all served with sweet roasted red peppers, and any manner of desserts - our favorite one being sheep yogurt or fresh sheep’s cheese. Then the sound check, and getting to know all the musicians, trading CD’s, and finally the concert at 8 PM. It went well, and it was great to hear all the different music. Our “Chile Verde, Chile Rojo” song went down very well for obvious reasons. After the concert we all went to the Irish Pub for the reception, and more music by a local “triki” band - fandangos, mazurkas & biribilketas (6/8 ryhthm). Everyone danced up a storm. We were back at the hotel by 2 AM.
The next morning we left at noon and went into the beautiful port town of Donostia to the Kursaal (600 seat theatre/convention hall). We put our instruments in our dressing rooms and left for lunch at a nearby café - the same kind of food, and always the roasted peppers along side the main dish. Then it was back to the theatre for sound checks and TV Co-ordination, since it was all filmed for TV. Each group was asked a question in the Basque language and had to answer it in their language. Ken told everyone in Spanish why the accordeon is so popular in the cultures of music we play. “It is because this is a music you play by ear and from the heart, and you can’t learn it from written notes because it is almost impossible to write down.” There was a huge TV screen behind us on stage showing close ups of the musicians hands and fingers. Luckily we couldn’t see it while we played. The concert was great, and we all watched it from underneath the stage on the TV monitors, especially fun when the performer was exuberantly tapping his foot. Someday we may have a DVD of this concert. Afterwards was another reception, more formal, with eighty people being served a very nice five course, traditional meal. Entertainment followed, with some elderly men playing the older “triki” style with accordeon, tamborine and gaita (bagpipe without the bag.) Very energetic and amazing. Later on the younger kids started playing, and many people danced the Fandango, which is the wild, and very old dance of the region - both arms held up in the air, fingers snapping and feet moving very fast. WOW! We got to bed at 3:30 AM and were plenty tired. Sadly this festival was now over. Except 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 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 to the festival.
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 peoples heads. This is not a cliché, but a good type of head covering for any type of weather. It is amazing to see what is growing - begonias, cyclamen and geraniums everywhere, even though the nightime temperatures drop 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 appartments have balconies full of flowers and colorful drying laundry. We saw many pelota (hand ball) courts, at least one in each town. This is a very popular and ancient sport.
Monday morning we said goodbye to País 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 which is the chile capitol 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 piquante) were brought to the area by travellers from South America in the 1700’s, and they continue to be a very important part of the Basque cuisine. We had noticed this! 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 N.M. grito (exuberent 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 have learned a few important words in the Basque lanquage - Egun on (hello), mesedez (please), eskerrik asko or 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. It is interesting to note that this area, which has never been it’s own country, 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. The Basque people support the businesses that are run by Basques. They wanted us to do the same, and we did so, as much as possible. When you enter a town, there are always the names for the town in Basque as well as French/Spanish. Very often the name not in Basque was blacked out. And you must never say you like this part of Spain/France because it is not either one. 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 very impressed with the warmth and friendliness of everyone here.
Our next stop was north of the Pays Basque in Gascogne - Les Landes - a very large, flat area south and east of Bordeaux that is all planted to pine trees. The trees are grown for the lumber. Before they were planted, we are told it was more like Louisiana - swamps and mosquitoes. We visited the parents of fiddler Gilles Apap’s accordeonist 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 - the fois gras, the smoked ham, the confit d’oie and the sheep cheeses. And we then continued on to Villandrault, SW of Langon to spend our last three days with our longtime dear musician friend Didier Oliver. The music of this area is also played on bagpipes, fiddles and accordeons. Didier was very nice to set up some workshops and a dance for us. I couldn’t see travelling all the way to Europe for two 15 minute sets of music, plus we had never been to this part of France. At the Ecole de Musique in the Centre Cultural des Carmes in Langon, we gave a N.M. dance workshop, and two fiddle and accordeon workshops the next day. I had sixteen kids, ages 7-14 in my first two hour class, and the next one was mostly adults. Ken had ten accordeon students, many whom had never played “cross-key” (which is a bluesier way of approaching the melody by playing the accordeon like a blues harmonica.) At the Grand Bal on Saturday night, five of my students joined us on stage and played five tunes (N.M., Tohono O’odham, and Cajun) with us that they had learned that morning. I told them they couldn’t use any music on stage, and I knew they could do it, if they put the tunes in their hearts. And yes, of course they could, and they did. Now those tunes belong to them as well, and will be kept alive in their repetoires 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 bourrées, and finally Ken joined the locals towards the end, dancing up a storm. We do hope to return soon.
Alas, the next day we hit the road south to Bilbao - a four hour drive on the motorway. We stopped in Lasarte to return the 3 row accordeon to Joseba, that Ken had borrowed (so that 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 no time to visit the Guggenheim museum there. But our new Basque friends wondered why we might want to go to that place. 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 Peugeout 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.”
It is always very nice to return to Silver City and get back to our life here. I have some great new tunes to share with my wonderful Fiddling Friends. And we need to cool out for a bit before continuing our Rolling Postcard adventure in April when we head back to the British Isles for more concerts, tune travelling, and musical enlightenment.
Note: Five other Rolling Postcards from Ken and Jeanie's other trips to Europe can be found at desertexposure.com. Their own web site is bayouseco.com.
posted by NM FolkMADS at 10:58 PM
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