French Parades Suck, 20 Juni 2010

Sooo...today was rather odd and I usually had no idea what was going on. I am very glad to be home.
I woke up at 7 45 after going to bed around 1 am because we literally did not get home until then from the concert (Carmina Burana). Part of this was because we went to an Italian cafe afterwards and I ate some spaghetti. But it was a late night and then I had to sneak my stuff out of the bathroom since I couldn't use it since Melanie's uncle was sleeping in the bedroom next door.
But I got ready for what I thought was going to be a wedding. I had a feeling it was going to be cold, so I wore pants and a blazer and my winter coat. Then I packed my black heels and contact solution and whatnot since I wasn't sure what the day would hold. Melanie drove Frau Reinl and I to the bus, which turned out to be a private coach bus. We waited with a bunch of other citizens dressed in Tracht (the regional historical cultural costumes here)for about twenty minutes before finally getting on the bus. After about a minute, the bus driver started talking and then told everyone I was on the bus and I was an American.
The drive was pretty, though I'd already seen half of it when the Brauses took me to see Gengenbach. The entire thing lasted about two hours and then we were in France. There was no border patrol that I saw, which was good because I'd forgotten my passport. But I had a driver's lisence which apparently counts here. Frau Reinl forgot her ID card, cellphone and house key, so I was pretty prepared in comparison to her anyway. This part of France has a lot of vineyards, which go up and down the hills which is pretty.
After getting off the bus, we walked into the old part of town which took about fifteen minutes. I guess in France no one drives on the street on Sunday, because most of our group just walked in the middle of it. But we finally got to the City Hall and were greeted by a Frenchman magistrate of some sort who spoke German. We waited around for a while and then the day was presented by the Monsieur Mayor and four other people. All of their speeches were in French and very long. I think one would have been enough personally. During most of the speeches, though, a little French girl decided the speeches weren't worth listening to. She was maybe three years old and suddenly just started singing. This was funny because she was standing about four feet from the guys making speeches and she just looked at everyone and sang away for about twenty minutes. No one told her to be quiet either, even though her mom was actually holding her while she sang.
After all the speeches were over, there was free wine, cake and cherries. Apparently this region is known for their cherries. They're good, but a little lighter in flavor than ours. But very red. I don't think the organizers really thought the whole free cherry thing through, because there was absolutely no place to put the stems or pits. So we all just spit them into the street at our feet. The street was messy by the evening, I'll tell you.
I didn't have any cherry cake or tart or whatever it was. I was tempted, but I didn't feel like finding a trashcan if I didn't like it and I wasn't really hungry. But it was kind of funny...there were fresh cherries in it, but they hadn't been pitted. So...you're eating this tart and have to worry about spitting out the pits. Knowing me I would have dug in and hurt my teeth or something on a pit.
The entire day was not a wedding as I soon found out. It was really just a festival of some sorts, which meant a lot of cherry sales, live music and traditional dancing, craft fair booths, food, pony rides, and later there were a few stages set up for the dance troupes to dance on. But there was also a parade, and St. Georgen had been invited to show off their Tracht. There were a few other German towns there to representing their Tracht style and then some French styles, too.
But before the parade, we wandered around the craft booths and I found Victoria's souvenir. But in picking it out, which was weird because the owner of the booth barely spoke German and no English (this was a first for me in a long time, not being able to communicate with someone in Europe) and I had to try every single ring on before I found one that would pass. But in doing so, Frau Reinl and I lost track of the group who went off to lunch without us. So, we found our way back by ourselves, with the aid of an elderly gentleman. This part of France was always changing hands between France and Germany, so the old generation all speak German, but their kids don't. But lunch was back by the bus, so we had to walk all the way back. I think we should have just come later for lunch or just the parade and not stood through all the speeches.
Lunch was long and kind of boring. I was given a plate with a mountain of sauerkraut, three slabs (and I mean slabs) of very fatty ham, a giant misshapen meatball of what I think turned out to be liver, two wursts, and a potato. I managed to eat the wursts and the potato. I tried the meatball, which no one else could figure out really what it was, and it was gross. So that was that.
After lunch the girls who'd come also dressed in Tracht got some aid putting on their hats. I guess they're hats. They're really just crazy lampshade crown things that weigh about 4 kilos, which are covered in paper roses, mardi gras beads and Christmas tree ornaments. This was for the parade.
So, we then walked up to the parade, which I didn't figure out it was a parade till we got there. I was initially excited for the parade, because the groups going looked interesting and their was an orange tractor pulling a wagon with kids distributing cherries. Since I wasn't part of the parade, due to my lack of Tracht, I went with one of the moms who also wasn't wearing Tracht to watch. And here is where it gets disappointing. I think I'll just list.
1) The "Hip Hop" Dancers sucked. I have seen two years with better hip hop skills. I mean, you can't just "step-touch" and wave your arms around and call that hip hop.
2) The French here, during parades, have no manners. The parades going on, and the bystanders are walking into the middle of the street during the march. And they would come and stand right in front of me while I was taking a picture, even if there was plenty of room elsewhere.
3) If you're going to show off your mad Brazilian dance fighting skills, don't form a circle around the two dancing. The rest of us can't see.
4) There was the Country Club of Offenburg Hillbillies. Seriously. They all had the cowboy boots, hats, "western" jewelry and would randomly whoop like a cowboy in an fifties film. I had to ask out loud if these people even knew what a Hillbilly was. I explained to Frau Reinl that a Hillbilly was a derogatory name for someone who lived in the country. I mean, I can't think of anyone who would want to be a member of a Hillbilly club.
5) Some of the dance troupes didn't dance. They just walked normally. I was, come on, do something, you're in a parade.
6) For some reason there was a Hawaiian dance group. And most of the girl literally only work fake coconut bras on top. Do they really do that there, or is that a stereotype? I'd like to know.
7) If you're carrying a sign that announces your marching band, don't bend the sign together so we can't read it.
So, yeah. That was the worst parade I've ever seen. But all the traditional clothing was cool. It just didn't quite make up for the other bull shit. And there were cherry pits being spit everywhere (there was also a spitting contest). And the on one of the stages later, a saw one second before turning away, but there were a bunch of preteens beginning to dance to Thriller. But not with the right choreography, so it was a mess. When I expressed my distaste for it all later, I learned that the Germans never interrupt a parade by walking into it and that the reason it sucked was because everyone was French. Ha.
Over the course of the next few hours, I watched some traditional dancing (there's a good amount of stomping), almost had a major contact problem from too much smoke in the air, learned that there were no warm, alcohol free drinks to be bought in the area that wasn't coffee, walked around, ate a warm pretzel with too much salt, bought a bottle of apple-cinnamon juice (tastes almost like cider, yum, got stared at by a really creepy guy (who either is a sociopath or mentally handicapped), tried and failed to understand French, and listened to a bunch of St Georgens play cow bells for music. Really. Its special to this area.They just ring them, though, instead of beating on them a la "I need more Cow Bell." Sadly this type of music didn't click to well with me, so I sadly had the first moment I truly did not need more cow bell.
While we were waiting for the bus to fill, two strange things happened. One, a guy with a handlebar mustache which extended about three inches on either side of his face, asked one of the girls to let him hold her hat. She refused, and rightly so. I wouldn't hand a hat of mine to a guy who has a mustache like that, who beckons you to come to the side of his car like a complete creeper. Then, the sociopath/mental patient stared at me or the group for thirty minutes. I don't know if it was a girl or boy, but he just stood behind the outer door (that had bars on it), stared and had one of the weirdest, manic small smiles I've ever seen. I really expected him to suddenly bolt out of the door, screaming, and attack us. But I kept this idea to myself. Oh, and you may ask, why were we there waiting for thirty minutes? Well, the leader of our group got stuck talking to a Frenchman for that long and we left thirty minutes late.
I slept for an hour on the bus and then spent the remaining hour talking with Frau Reinl about the differences between our school systems (she likes the community aspect of ours better and was surprised to learn there were still same-sex schools) and what types of books we like to read. The bus dropped us off at our street and I used my key to let us in. Sooo...the relaxing and football is nice and Brazil's winning as usual.