Our second day in Paris was spent at a medieval festival in the town of Provins.
How lucky we were, to land there the week-end of their two day festival.
“The tickets are half-price if you wear a costume,” said Catherine.
But”, she continued, “I just couldn’t see packing costumes all the way through Norway, Sweden and into Amsterdam, to save the money on the tickets.”
A wonderful festival.
"The equivalent of the Calgary Stamplede, but set in Medieval times", said Eric, laughing.
Here the kids are with the court jester, just as we entered the city walls of Provins.
And a walking troup of musicians playing 16th century instruments had just walked down the street in front of us.
There were people dressed in the costumes of every walk of life: kings, queens, knights, satyrs, beasts, yoemen, monks, and pilgrims.
In one corner of the village was the simulation of a leper colony, one of whom you see here with the kids.
In the now empty moat, on the outside of the city. were the tents of people hawking their country wares.
“And inside the city walls, there was a small village: potters, rope makers, black smiths, and even a chain mail specialist, making head dresses.
Catie, Rebecca, and yes, even I tried on that head dress.
The chain male maker was in a booth of his own, as was the herb specialist, the basket weaver, and the potter, turning dishes on a wheel operated with his feet.
The felt maker was carding her wool, then stretching it out on the table and then pouring hot water over it.
To put on the head dress, we had to first put on a small white bonnet to make slipping the hat over our heads a little easier.
Tom stood behind a shirt of the chain mail.
There was no time to climb into it, but a little crouching makes it look as though it is his.
And it is in one of the vendor's stalls that Tom decided to spend his money.
A beautiful medieval dagger.
"A fabulous instrument to peel potatoes with," I told him.
The rope maker had 4 smaller ropes, ready to twist into a larger one.
The ropes were stretched on a form and at either end, some turned the ropes, either clock-wise, or counter clockwise until the 4 ropes were turned into one large one.
Other fair-goers were involved as well, each holding one of the ropes before the twistng began.
A small boy with billowing shirt sleeves was helping.
His shirt got caught in between the four ropes and soon he was yelling, “Stop. Help.”
He was being twisted into the rope.
Trapped.
The process could not be reversed far enough to get him out and so they worked on slipping him right out of his shirt.
You will see Catherine and Rebecca laughing at the antics of all of this.
“Not funny,” the naked-chested boy cried out as he ran for the safety of one of the medieval tents nearby, to the laugher that could not be stifled by all around him.
Funny to everyone but him.
We watched horses and riders gallop in a ring as a narrator told some of the myths of Provins.
Catherine's and Eric's 18th anniversary was celebrated that day as we walked along.
Their family enjoyed playing ancient games in a small clearing outside of the city walls.
They walked on stilts -- all of them, even Eric.
And I decided to bring along my medieval costume should I be in France and at this festival
another year.
Not, I think, as dressed here, though.
Something different for me next time.
Arta
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