They Might Be Giants

Ok, the first weekend was fun and wild and bizarre. We planned on staying close to home, as it were, and it turned out that one of D’s coworkers invited us to see a parade of Giants held in Ath, Belgium. As it so happens, this festival has been going on since the Middle Ages, but I think the story got a little confused along the way because the main character, and hero of the town, is Goliath. Yes, the same Goliath as in 1 Samuel 17 (in the Bible) of David and Goliath fame.

So we weren’t going to be able to see the parade (which had a variety of giant dolls – so weird – not just Goliath) because it was on Sunday and we had other plans for Sunday. We discovered, however, that there was an event on Saturday that was a must see – the marriage of Goliath and Mrs. Goliath. No, I am not making this up.

They have a processional that takes the 12 foot dolls from town hall to the church. Preceding the Giants is a large group of French soldiers (not real ones, or at least I hope not given: 1. The uniform, 2. The FIT of the uniform on several of the men, and 3. The relaxed nature of the escort – they would pause throughout the parade to pose for pictures, as well as there seemed to be an official position where a woman walked with them with a liquor barrel and shot glass).
Next came a group of men in 16th century like dress called the Men-at-Arms. I really felt sorry for these guys because red tights do not look good on ANYONE. Next, a little boy dressed up as “David” who fought Goliath later in the day (we didn’t stick around for that one).

After the processional comes the band – and they were good. Apparently each Giant has its own band – which means that parade on Sunday would have been a long event. Also, I guess they all have their own specific tunes that they “dance” to. The dancing consisted of sort of bouncing swaying at specific places (again, all part of the tradition). I guess if the same music has been passed down since the 15th Century, you should be able to play well.

While we waited for the bell to toll (3pm marked the beginning) a radio station was handing out free t-shirts that said “J’Gouyasse” on it. Now, I like free things, so I did get one. The stipulation for getting it was that I wear it (give them the advertising). Given that there were lots of people wearing it, I gladly put mine on and enjoyed the fun. Apparently, a “Gouyasse” is a macaroon tart that is also called a “mastelles” that is the traditional food for this festival. Every family has their own recipe and they only make them during this time of year. The thing I don’t understand is, did the shirt translate to “I am a macaroon tart” or "I love macaroon tarts" or "I love this festival" or what?  If someone who actually speaks/knows French has an idea and can clue me in, I would appreciate it. (Oh, and I wore the shirt at the festival until D commented that I looked like I was wearing a "Pat" suit - you remember, from Saturday Night Live?  The androgynous nasal-laugher? Apparently the vest was less flattering with a shirt over it.  Thanks honey.)

Parades are very different here. We saw, maybe, 2 police officers at the front of the parade, but nothing along the route. Needless to say, there was not a lot of respect for keeping the route clear or for crowding in on the players. Also, once the procession passed, it was over. We could have waited for another 1 ½ hours to see the Goliath fight, but we had another festival to attend so we decided to gracefully depart at that time.