The Rest of the Fest

Now that it has been a full month since I arrived in St. John's to take in the Folk Festival, I had better write something before I forget it all! After the details have all faded away, I think I will remember that the festival was a blast, no matter what the weather, and that I ought to go again if I have the chance.

I am finding it harder and harder to write about my holiday, I think because I haven't had the usual opportunity to reflect on a holiday that comes with going home. Rather than returning to BC, I've moved on to a new home in Nova Scotia, so my mind is full of new places and experiences that are now shaping my perceptions. Also, the rejuvenation and the inspiration that I received from all my new experiences in Newfoundland are just real hard to articulate. Still, I think a recounting of some of the facts would be nice, at least for my own future reference.

There were workshops on Saturday and Sunday morning. These were great because they were a chance to hear musicians and other performers in an unamplified setting, which I find far more natural for folk music than a sound system up on a stage. I got to take in storytelling, fiddling, accordioning, traditional Newfoundland set dancing, and more. Any one of these workshops would have been a treat of an event in itself. Putting four or five of them in a single weekend filled with other concerts just about overloaded my system. It was great!

Saturday was a rainy day, and I spent much of the afternoon hiding out in the beer tent so as to stay dry, but by evening it was nice again. Just in time for homesickness to strike! The St. John's Folk Arts Council was presenting a lifetime achievement award to Ron Hynes, and several musicians were singing a tribute to him. Larry Foley began singing the St. John's Waltz, a lovely song, but my heart and eyes were just too full to take it in.

I wandered out behind the stage to where it was dark and quiet, and stood by some trees and looked out at the city. There was a nice moon, and a lot of happy sounding people, and a skyline wholly unfamiliar to me. Here I was taking a holiday I'd dreamed of, with fun all around me, and all I could think about was that I did not belong. I had a good cry, but fortunately I was able to realize that there was no sense in staying homesick, because it would mean missing out on all the fun, and I couldn't try to convince myself that I'd really rather be back home and missing the Festival, now, would I? So I stood looking at the night and composing myself, and a half dozen young teenagers wandered up to me and struck up a conversation. I was glad for the distraction and even gladder for their friendliness, and we spent much of that evening gallivanting together. It was nice to be thought acceptable company by 14-year-olds . . . We closed out the evening dancing madly to Tickle Harbour and Mopaya. I must remember that I do not have the energy of a 14-year-old!

I haven't been that acutely homesick since the Festival, so I think it must have been a necessary moment of weakness. I try to accept them and remember that "this, too, shall pass."

Sunday was maybe my favourite day of the festival. It was beautiful weather, the first sun I had seen since arriving to St. John's. I skipped the first 1.5 workshops of the day so that I could take a walk down by the harbour and look at the way everything looked in the sun. It was time well spent, I think. Harbour time is good time.

It was pleasant to sit on the grass in the sun all day, frying my forehead and the part in my hair because I didn't wear a hat, and enjoying good company and eating good food. While I had been privileged to spend most of the festival so far tagging along with Heather and her small fry, Jean and Eleanor, I did so even more on Sunday. By then, said small fry and I had gotten to know each other comfortably well and could laugh and play and chase around to our hearts' delight. At one point in the evening, I was afraid I'd wound Eleanor up to a state of immoderate hyperactivity by pretending that she was a spider I was going to squish, but she fortunately calmed down shortly, no thanks to me. I don't get a lot of opportunity to hang out with younger kids anymore, and Jean and Eleanor gave me the gift of their perspectives on the world, letting me share in the fun of being young. I enjoyed it tremendously. Thanks, Heather, for putting up with having a third child around to mess with your week and your attempts to find calm!

I didn't take many pictures of the Festival because I wanted to concentrate on the music, but I did make a Flickr set containing a few. If you want to see more, Heather's are excellent, and the main Festival site has links to more.