Les traditions françaises

Part 1 of 3
Carnaval

Holiday traditions are interesting—of course their customs are totally evident to the people who celebrate them, because they have been doing them since birth. They couldn’t imagine not doing them.

But a stranger to the culture brings an outsider perspective. Many times I relate to French traditions and find them similar to my own. But then there are those times when I find them totally foreign. That’s when I am compelled to do some research (aka a Google search) to find out more about their origins.

I realized that Carnaval, the day before Lent begins and otherwise known as Mardi Gras, is in many ways the French equivalent of Halloween when I dropped the kids off at school that day. All the kids, big and small, were dressed up in costumes: princesses and pirates galore!

When I came again to pick them up that afternoon, they took my hand and tugged me over to the auditorium hall, noisy and jam-packed with people. It was a big FÊTE being hosted by the school, with music and food and dancing.

But the real star of the show is the BONHOMME CARNAVAL. Who is he? Well, his form changes every year, but basically it is a statue construction made out of papier mâché and various recycled materials. This year, it was a bright green spider, painted with acrylic paint, complete with bright red lips and toilet paper rolls sticking out of its head.

If you’re thinking this sounds kind of weird, you’re not the only one. When I saw it, I didn’t really know what to make of it. But to everyone else it seemed perfectly normal.

Around dusk, as the sun sank down, the bonhomme was transported outside—and what did they do? Light him on fire! Then all of the kids made snowballs and pelted him in an unsuccessful effort to diminish the flames. I found it quite violent. The parents stood ceremoniously, supervising, talking amongst themselves with their arms braced against the cold wind and observing as the fire gradually overtook its frame. By the time it had burned down, night had fallen and everyone headed home for supper.

When I inquired to know more, I was told that this sort of event is something that takes place in many or most French elementary schools. The origins are that the bonhomme is a figure meant to represent everyone’s sins from the past year, and by burning him, everyone gets a fresh start. Particularly important symbolically just before La Carême (Lent) begins.

A quick online research revealed that Quebec City also has a bonhomme for their Carnaval celebration. He takes the same form every year, as it is in fact a person dressed up in costume.












Luckily he isn’t lit up on fire!

Image credit: http://klimbo.bangbangblog.com/2008/05/03/colorado-2-quebec-0/

Part 2 of 3
Epiphany

Another French tradition I partook in this year was the celebration of Epiphany, celebrated January 6th.

As I was chewing down the last bit of my dinner that night, my host mom S took something out from a dark recess of a kitchen cabinet.

She took off its wrapping and unveiled a round beauty of a cake, une galette des rois (kings’ cake—named after the Three Magi), with crisscrosses of golden dough revealing almond cream frangipane underneath. After being bought at the town boulangerie that afternoon, it had been hidden for good reason. Wouldn’t want any slices to magically disappear beforehand!

Before I quite knew what was happening, the kids scurried underneath the dinner table, ducking beneath the tablecloth, with plenty of giggles and a noticeable air of excitement. What was going on? I kept my mouth shut and observed.

S took out a knife, cut a sizable triangular slice, and demanded “Cette tranche? C’est à qui?” Then the kids yelled out the name of a household member, and S set it down at their place setting. This happened for all of us in procession, so that the cake was evenly divvied up between us.

The kids scampered back up from their hiding place and started attacking their slice with the tongs of their forks, breaking into the pastry filling with the gusto of archaeologists digging in the dirt. Their object of desire? La fève. Originally it was as the word in French would suggest—a bean, but nowadays it is typically a miniscule figurine.

A couple seconds later and one of the girls yelled out “Trouvé!” (Got it!), unearthing a little ceramic cowboy. As tradition dictates, whoever has the feve is pronounced the king or queen, and gets to choose a fellow king or queen. Lucky me, I was selected. I was coronated with a gold paper crown (similar to the one you get at Burger King, actually) and blessed with good luck for the rest of the year.

Part 3 of 3
La Chandeleur

In France, at the same time that we in America are celebrating Groundhog Day, there is La Chandeleur. Of course it has religious origins, but for me the important thing was that we were eating CRÊPES for dinner.

As the tradition goes, you have to perform the tricky little maneuver of a one-handed crepe flip, as the other hand holds a coin. Its successful completion brings prosperity to the family for the rest of the year.

My host mom S can practically whip up a batch of crepes in her sleep, so for her it was no problem. Mission accomplished, and good luck for the year. Phew.

I gave it a go, and realized the logistics. First you have to pour in the batter (not too much, not too little), let it cook properly on one side, take the coin in one hand and the handle of the skillet in the other. Then you have to give it enough of a jiggle that the crepe turns over, but not so much that it hits the ceiling and/or lands on the floor.

Like with all things of this nature, it’s all in the wrist. I haven’t quite got it down yet, but hey, it’s fun to try and it gives me an excuse to make crepes. I am thinking by next year I’ll have it, so I can bring good luck back home with me.