Before this weekend, I could only associate Dunkerque with
beaches and WWII. Hearing that it was the site of a famous carnival, known
throughout this region of northern France to be a site of beer drinking, fancy
costumes and general merriment came as a bit of a surprise to me. We were
invited by Jean-Charles, one of our colleagues at the university, who comes
from Dunkerque, to take part in one of the carnival’s main ‘Bal’s. These are the
night time events which are run by charitable organisations (there is a method
to the madness, you see) which take place in large venues in and around
Dunkerque during the Carnival period. In the week leading up to our carnival experience,
whenever any of us tried to find out what to expect, we were only met with
vague responses of how ‘crazy’ it was, which didn’t really give us any concrete
ideas of how the weekend was going to roll. Yet now I’ve come to realise that you really
do have to experience it to believe it, and it’s difficult to describe the
crazy yet over-riding friendly
atmosphere that make the Carnival spirit.
Our evening kicked off at Jean-Charles’ sister’s house, Marie-Hélène,
who has years of carnival experience. This was instantly evident upon entry to
her family home; posters of carnivals gone by decorated the living room, the
rules of the carnival had been posted on doors, and by 6pm the family had
already begun to get their costumes on and their faces painted. In true French hosting style, Marie-Hélène
made sure we had everything we needed, and even drove us to the nearest fancy
dress shop so we could pick up the all-important feather-boas to complete our
costumes.
It being the tradition for men to cross-dress, the guys in
our group dressed up as women, and us ladies dressed up as men. We helped each
other do up bras, draw on moustaches and apply make-up, with hilarious results.
Jeff with his heels and tights became a very sexy First Lady of America, whilst
Sam’s very realistic looking breasts brought out the butch-lesbian in him. When
it came down to Hannah and I, donning the male braces really gave us that
masculine edge which the lads of the group had recently lost. Yet our costumes
were incredibly tame compared to those of everyone else. The family and friends
of Marie-Hélène all seemed to be dressed according to a specific theme, yet I
can only attempt to categorize this theme as to include
–specific-matching-blue-colour-with-face-extravagantly- painted-and- hat-
adorned- with- flowers-and-feathers. Even then, it’s difficult to create a picture
of just how co-ordinated, yet original each carnival party-maker was. So here’s a picture to show you…
The music which really got the fun started was a mixture of traditional carnival tunes and classic kitsch songs (‘In The Navy’ and ‘YMCA’ were of course cracked out), resulting in crazy congas and mental jigs. The two very cute and still very young children joined in, and the gorgeous family Lab was loving the excitement and continual drip feed of party food dropping on the floor. The family atmosphere and involvement really made the pre-party special, and not really like anything I’d experienced before.
At around 11pm, it was time to
hit the main event…Le Bal. After a serious pep talk about sticking together and
arranging our meet up points, we headed along the sea front accompanied by the
bitter sea breeze. We got more of an idea of what to expect when Jean-Charles
handed over our tickets. The primary
regulation stated that ‘the management reserves the right to refuse entry to
anyone not in costume’, and only secondary to this rule was the stipulation
that ‘anyone carrying dangerous items would be ejected from the event’. With
our priorities in order, expecting madness from the beginning, we headed in.
Once inside the main arena space,
it took all of five minutes to lose Harmonie, but luckily the rest of us did
manage to stay together for the majority of the night. The atmosphere was buzzing,
and of course there was pushing and squeezing through crowds of people…but
there was no shoving or angry cries of protest. It was an accepted part of the
carnival, and was more an opportunity to ask your name and where you were from
before swiftly moving on your way. It was so friendly, and not too friendly as to verge on creepy. There
were no girls crying, no guys starting fights, and no couples getting a bit too
friendly in public. Put thousands of people in a venue in England, add alcohol
and costumes, and I don’t think the result would be the same.
The music was provided by a live
band on stage, playing tunes ranging from ‘It’s Raining Men’, to ‘Scream and
Shout’, and even ‘Gangham Style’. In one room, every so often a traditional
carnival anthem would start up, and all those willing would link arms and march
around the room, occasionally marching backwards, before ending in a massive
crush, jumping up and down. SO much fun! At one point we made friends with a
guy who had brought along his marching-band drum (why not!?), who came and
played to us. He then seemed pretty content to enjoy his fag and sip of my beer
whilst letting us have a go ourselves.
After hours of dancing, marching,
and drinking, 4am arrived and we were exhausted. So we headed back to the
meeting point, and after sending out search parties, we soon tracked down
Harmonie, who was having a great night by herself and was disappointed that we
wanted to leave an hour before the end (!) After a FREEZING walk home back
along the beach, we arrived back at Jean-Charles’ home, where we sat down to a
much needed bowl of home-made onion soup. This may sound pathetic compared to a
greasy kebab after a messy night, but it was actually PERFECT. Jean-Charles
explained that this is actually another of the carnival traditions, and back in
the day there would be cafés open all night selling bowls of the stuff to
revive tired carnival goers. By 6:30am we were ready to collapse…bed time.
As vibrant as the town centre
was, it was freezing and we were shattered, so it wasn’t long before we headed
back for a bowl of chocolat chaud and some Nutella tartines. It was then time
to before hit the road back to Valenciennes. With classic tunes from the Beatles
and Dire Straites providing the soundtrack, we enjoyed a perfect, chilled out
ending to a mental weekend. Vive la carneval!
