The Ball

The first ball of the season was held last night. This was not the balls of debutants or romantic novels with women in long gowns and men waltzing by in tails. These balls are held outdoors at the Place de la Republique.

Two sides of La Place are flanked by eight pastel colored houses with iron-railed balconies. The Ecole de Musique, the former town hall, dominates one side with its red-bricked building and blue-trimmed windows. L’Hôtel Hostalet and La Café de la Place set out their white plastic tables and chairs, which are covered with glasses of wine, Banyuls, champagne, beer and a can of Coke of two.

When the tarmac needing replacing four years ago, the village fathers decided to put down stone tiles with a hint of pink making a smooth dance floor. All cars have been cleared for the dance.

The band was live performing French, American and Spanish songs. This ball was for is the Fête de Musique, started over a decade ago by J. Laing, the then cultural minister. Tonight there will be concerts and dances all over the country.

Although many people sat, almost everyone danced with no self consciousness at some point during the night. Older women danced with their friends, their skirts whipping their legs. A man held his four-year old daughter, dressed in a white frock, and it could only be described as a frock in its delicateness. As he held her in his arms, she threw back her head and laughed.

Another man with a girl of the same age swayed as she stood on his shoes. A few women and two men dance alone. I saw my neighbors, the Fernendezes, the people who worry about my plants more than I do, swing by. The Dubois moved with a grace that I never knew neither of them had. There was another couple who could be in dance contests their foot work was so complicated. I remembered them from previous years.

An eight-year old boy shinnied up one of the four trees and watched us from the branches until his mother saw him and insisted he come down. He swung like a monkey from a branch before dropping into her arms and be shuttled home faster than he wanted to go. Hugo, a two year old, watched from his balcony. He was naked, his way of keeping cool in the heat. Next to him was his dog who has a Benjie head but with longer legs.

Although the music played until 12:30 the crowd thinned out after 11:30.

During the summer there will be many more dances. Many nights people will be in a circle dancing the Catalan native dance, the Sardane (http://www.reynes.fr/html/sardane.htm lets you hear the whiney music) where dancer take three steps right, three left, lowering and raising their arms.

The band packed up. I quickly helped the hotel owner clear off the tables and headed home.