Folk festival in Zetten
Again to Holland, this time to a Balkan folk festival in a small village near Arnaham called Zetten. As usual, I arm myself with a shield of friends and arrange to meet there a Norwegian friend and a friend from Israel.
See picturesOn my first day in Amsterdam, I go out to show my Norwegian friend the town, since I’m already an old-timer, having seen all the McDonalds and Pizza Huts in the area. As soon as we stepped out the door, the first person to cross our path with a grin from ear to ear was none other than Giora, a friend from Jerusalem with whom I had arranged to go to the festival. My lady friend and I immediately cancelled our previous plans, deciding instead to travel with Giora since he had a car and we wanted to tour the area.
We traveled thru Holland for two days before reaching the devil town of Arnaham, near the German border and from there to the festival.
The festival was organized by two folkdance teachers, Silviu Ciuciumis who and organized and taught at a Romanian festival where I been just two months previously, and a charming, friendly Turk whose name is Ersin Seyham.
The Balkan festival is a long standing tradition and unlike the big festivals in Virauten where folklore includes everything, this one is only Balkan.
In Holland, as usual, everything is organized and when we arrived we were greeted by two tabled manned by bright faced Dutch girls who can’t get over the fact that we came all the way from Israel to come to the festival.
After registering, we are faced with the dilemma of where to sleep: to stay in a tent a kilometer from the dance hall, or on the asphalt parking lot, or in the hall itself with an abundance of partners. The asphalt possibility was ruled out immediately, since after years of training, my body is used to sleeping on a mattress and I have no inclination of fighting such a long standing tradition.
Inside the hall it is warm and cozy, but I didn’t fancy spending my nights listening to hundreds of Dutch snore out of harmony, so I chose to sleep in a tent some distance from the dance hall.
I figured since this is July, the middle of summer in every civilized country, but in Holland it rained non stop until the end of the festival. I came prepared with warm clothes and a decent tent but I forgot one tiny detail - to bring a nylon to cover the tent and spent the next three days sleeping in a puddle.
The festival has around 300 participants, and I was surprised to learn that more than 50 of them came from outside of Holland.
Silviu started the seminar by teaching three Romanian dances, including Trei Pazesti (literally: Pay Attention Three Times). Actually, it is typical of dances that take their names from the place where they originated, in this case from the area Oltina in Romania where the dances are really fast, which has produced many fast paced dances.
While we were dancing, I caught the eye of many friends that I knew from previous trips, and waiting with typical European patience for the teaching to end, and then I was summoned to a series of hugs.
I met old acquaintances from previous tours to Bulgaria and Romania, and a friend from England, and all the Dutch woman who were surprised with my arrival.
After the teaching, there was an hour of dancing to warm up, mostly Balkan dances which I knew from Israel. Here of course, we dance them a bit differently, since almost our entire repertoire was brought second hand from the States and that’s just how the dances look: second hand.
I’m not criticizing our local dance industry, or the people who kept Balkan dancing going over the years, but many dances assimilated after making aliya.
After about an hour of dancing, the band arrives, including eight musicians, all from Holland, an d then the real party begins, as we dance to live music. Every dance lasts 4-5 minutes. The two busy pubs in the next hall help liven up the atmosphere.
I can’t get over the rich Balkan repertoire of the Dutch band. The singer, a young pretty thing with an amazing voice, sings songs in Serbian, Bulgarian, Rumanian, Turkish, Greek and Hungarian, each as if it’s her mother tongue. Dancing to live music moves me time and time again.
The dancers are well behaved, holding hands using the proper hold for each dance, no exceptions. The lines are led by dancers who know the dances and know how to lead: in Balkan dancing, there’s a special importance granted to the leader of the line. The leader decides which parts are danced in which order, and if the spirit moves him, he makes improvisations/ he improves steps.
Ater dancing we go for another round of drinks, and find that someone has already organized/arranged music in the pub. We danced till dawn, and for me, this was especially welcome, as I wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep in the lake that manifested itself in my tent, not without a boat and paddles.
The seminar begins the next day, all day, and each class is given twice in two different halls so that everybody can participate. This year the seminar included dances from Greece, Bulgaria, Turkey, Romania, Serbia and Hungary. The Greek and Bulgarian dances were taught by Dutch teachers, but all the other teachers were native to the kinds of dances which they taught.
I chose to start off my morning with Bulgarian dances. The Dutch teacher, Eddy Tijssen, has been addicted to Bulgarian dances for the past twenty years, teaches with a band of three musicians. It’s a pleasure to learn from him. He separates the dances by region, and teaches dances from Dobraja, Tracia, and Macedonian Bulgaria (is there such a thing as a Macedonian dance from Macedonia?)
The Serbian teacher is also a hit, and teaches a wild Serbian dance. He also brings a Macedonian dance from Serbia, once which we already dance enthusiastically in Jerusalem). and even from Croatia. He left Yugoslavia such a long time ago, that he’s forgotten who’s against who.
The Turkish teacher brought enchanting music and dances, and was one of the stars of the seminar (but remember, he was also one of the festival’s organizers).
The Greek teacher brought a Maceonian dance from Greece (ask the Greek, and they will tell you that there is no such thing as Macedonia).
Since we had a Macedonian dance from Bulgaria (Pirin), and one from the Serbian border, and one from Greece, what do you suppose was left for the Macedonian teacher to teach?
After glancing at the map, I notice the Macedonian border with Albanian, and the dance we learned was an oriental dance from that region, with eastern/Arabic style. Nothing special, maybe because he seemed dry and lifeless when compared to the other teachers.
For desert, we got the Hungarian teacher who taught us Gypsy dances from Hungary. Gypsy or not, I understood from the beginning that he would be teaching couple dances (rare in the Balkans, but as you get closer to Hungary from Transylvania in Rumania, the couples start coming out of the closet,
He and his wife taught a few typical couple dances, with a lot of slapping of the knees and heels and what have you.
Since this year included so many participants from outside of Holland, the organizers thought to throw a party inour honor, with all the teachers and organizers receiving us, and then I discovered that we are not alone. There were participants from all over - Belgium, Germany, Denmark, England, Scotland, Israel and Norway (where I’m directly responsible for her presence).
It was a nice idea which wets the appetite to return again next year.
It’s hard to describe the atmosphere in these places, but the foreigners bond quickly, and make good contacts.
After three wonderful days, where every night includes a dance party, we end the last night with a Balkan food fest, prepared by the dance teachers and festival organizers, who even chip in to help serve the food.
We dance long into the night and the next day I’m forced to face reality that I hate, to part with such good friends. Two came over specially to say goodbye to me to others from the trip to Romania.
Giora and I sadly part from our new friends, and like good Jews, leave them with the blessing to meet next year, same time, same place. By then it was clear to me that I would come again next year.