So, even though most of the time I notice what makes Reunion unique, its Creole culture, sometimes I can't help but notice the huge influences that make Reunion still, well, French. I can't help but notice how often I can relate to something that happens in Reunion to something that happened in Nancy. That word that I learned at one time that keeps coming back, the funny quirks in people, the fact that I'm learning more French geography here than ever before thanks to all my friends from "Metropole." That one night I enjoyed a delicious croissant....only in French territory could you find a moment like that.
Sunday just seems to prove my point. Although I was somewhat unsure about the nature of French "trad" dancing (folk dance), I figured it must be something like the folk dance I knew from college. After all, the goal of folk dances is so that "everyone can dance, because the steps are so easy," (this is not a quote from me, but from my friend Gabriel, so you should take his word for it). What made me laugh was a realization that this "folk dance" class my friend Gabriel was dragging me to was also some sort of "Briton" type club, or at least most of the people in the group seemed to be fans of Brittany, that lovely northern part of France that seems somehow even further away from here when you think of how much snow must be on the ground over there as we speak.
After all of the dancing, which I was pleased to note were very similar to other Celtic folk dances that I knew, like Irish and Scottish, I was trying to solve the mystery of why 50 some odd people were assembled in an overheated, overcrowded room on a Saturday afternoon, dancing to relatively mediocre accordion music. Then I suppose it came to me: perhaps these people, who seem to really love this culture, perhaps they are from Brittany, and miss their homeland. It was almost as if they had their own club, as inclusive as it was, to remind them of what they used to know. I understand that feeling all too well. In french the term is "depaysagement" or when you are displaced from your country, to be removed.
It was a pretty old crowd, but just as lively as any Ceili party I had ever attended in Portland, with all of the students very eager to learn. I ended up getting roped into coming back when one of the teachers discovered that I knew how to Irish folk dance. "You have to teach us!! It will be so much fun. You have music don't you?" I felt like I was back in Folk Dance club, getting coerced into leading a dance. Oh well, I suppose I could try....
Even though we were there on a very hot day on a tropical island towards the end I got that shiver of cold and rain while I watched the dancers finish off the lesson with a great "Scottish." I would have stayed in the stupor of "Metropole culture," especially surrounded by all of my French friends, until we walked out of the room. There it was, Creole children running around with their mothers, men sitting on the corner, talking. I got "repaysaged." No matter how you try to hide back into your own culture, surrounded by people with the same background and ideas, you can't hide from the real world overseas. But would you really want to?
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