The Setting

For a well-stated overview, see Rachel's comment on the "Film at 11" post.

Balkan Camp 2007 was held in the Iroquois Springs campground, Rock Hill, NY. A week of perfect summer weather. Everyone shares a cabin with other couples, families or singles. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and evening snack is all provided in the dance hall. Classes are held in various camp buildings, like the dance hall or under a tree. Late night parties are held a half a mile away from the cabins in the kefana, which has a small bar and kitchen, a dance floor, cafe tables, atmospheric lighting and entertainment such as cribbage and slivo-shot chess.

The schedule: Every day, breakfast until 9:15 a.m. Then there are five sessions per day at 1.5 hours each until 6:30 p.m. You don't have to sign up for classes, you just go whereever you want. In any given period, there is a choice of various dance, instrumental or vocal classes. I chose three classes on the first day, but ended up committing to just two; intermediate accordion (there was no beginner class) and Trans-Carpathian Ensenble.

After classes, dinner. The after dinner hour was filled every night by impromptu gatherings. Jams, fundraising events, group sings or a lecture.

9 p.m., dancing in the dance hall with several different kinds of music each night. These bands are usually made of of the instructors who teach during the day. This is where you can come and figure out the difference between Hungarian and Romanian music. Or at least get a vague idea. You can also come dance your feet off if you can keep up. Whether you know what you're doing or not, (or whether you've showered or not), the circle will open for you. It is quite likely that the hand you grasp to enter the dance belongs to someone who has bathed and is familiar with the dance you are now trying to do, but you can't necessairly assume that will be the case. The doors are open and the summer breeze floats through the woven arms. If you stand still you can feel the floor shake. You can also watch the dancers and browse the "store" of Balkan merchandise, like books and CDs, costumes, clothes and textiles, jewelry. (One of our friends was delighted to find a Bulgarian to Polish dictionary.) Oh, and beer.

Around 11;30 p.m., as the music ends in the hall, dancers stagger out into the starlight. Kefana opens as the jam sessions on cabin porches dismantle. Musicians and dancers begin to turn in, or grab their flashlights and walk to the late night party. Emerging from a small patch of woods, you can see a building dripping with colored lights on the other side of the field. Music, voices and a sultry glow seep from every crevice. A grill on the side is crackling with cevappcici (aka "chevaps") and melting vegetables, surrounded by campers with drinks chatting up the cook.

Food, music, dancing and conversation ensue until sunup. Most of us left in the dark, walked back through the field where crickets finally reclaimed the stage, and hope we don't wake our cabin-mates as we fall into bed for a few hours. Then, you wake up, and do it again.

***
My frist period class was accordion, sitting on chairs in a circle under a tree. We learned a memorable macedonian song with great rhythm. No one complained that I could only play the keys on my accordion and not the bass notes. I also took beginning Doumbek with Matt Moran, a gifted drummer and inspiring teacher who plays with Slavic Soul Party in NYC. That class was held a good distance away from other classes by the lake, which we weren't allowed to swim in but was covered with algae anyway. The last class was an ensemble class. There were several ensemble choices (Greek, Tamburica, etc.) I chose Trans-Carpathian. At first, it seemed to be a wailing arc of instruments preparing for a great flood. An upright bass, 15 violins, five flutes (including me), Jerry on bugarija, a recorder, a dulcimer, nine accordions and a sitar. Due to the unfailing leadership of our teacher Kalman, we learned three robust songs throughout the week. Kolomeka, a chardash and a hora.

***

There were few clocks. You knew when it was time to go to class if you saw people out and about, or pack up from practicing in a corner. But in the after dinner hours until bed, there wasn't much solitary rehearsing. The magnetic singers and musicians attracted other singers, musicians and dancers. It seemed an unspoken practice that after listening for a moment, one could grab one's instrument and join in with any group of they could contribute, or just wanted to try to contribute. The entire week had a strange other-dimensional feel to it, where everything was open to collaboration and spontanaity. Maybe there were some egos that flared, but most of the experiences I had were strangely open.

Later, I will post some highlights.

Glossary

Kefana - (ke-Fa-na) the late night bar with music, dancing, food and drinks
Cevapcici (che-Vap-che-chee)- also known as "chevaps" are small sausages that look like dog poo when they are overcooked but no one cares.
Slivovica (SLEE-o-vit-za) - plum brandy that makes people dance. Also known as "Slivo" and served in shot glasses.
Mednoslivo - Slivovica mixed with honey.

The Crew

On the last night of camp at Kefana, most of us had been up until 3 a.m. every night throughout the week, and even some of the performers were getting a little silly. Tired, a little drunk and not wanting to miss out on a moment of anything, we all gathered at the last kefana. (L to R) Matt, along with his wife Joan (who was smartly asleep at this point), were our "camp angels" who were charged with guiding is through camp all week. Ms. Jay, from NYC is a Greek dancer with tons of good energy, and good taste. Alla, a conductor, was fast friends with us; insisting that there must be a common ancestor among her and Jerry back in Yugoslavia. Jerry the bug player and myself the fumbling musician next to Rachel, the accordion player who is not afraid of giant brass bands.

J and B survive Balkan Camp. Film at 11

How do you explain Balkan Camp? I shall try in a later post earlier in the day. Stay tuned.

More Balkan Camp

***DISCLAIMER: Our digital camera sulked all weekend and wouldn't turn on. The disposables I bought late in the week were crap, a problem compounded, I suspect, by a Walgreen's employee who exposed half our pictures. >:I ***

We all had to find pockets of solitude throughout the campground to try and practice. Rachel was practicing all week. She liked to sit by the tree near her cabin and try to confuse the advanced accordion class that met nearby.

At the auction, a newlywed couple won a 20-minute Macedonian serenade while lounging in the private gypsy caravan that some Balkan Campers designed themselves and towed to camp. A furious accordion storm ensued, and there was much rejoicing.

Everyone has to choose a volunteer job for the week. Jerry and I worked Kefana on Thursday night. Jerry caught me in my apron here asthe party went on behind me.

Friday before the performances begin.

My supportive and talented fellow accordion students Shel and Rachel after cramming on the Macedonian tune in preparation for student performances.

Balkan Camp

Jerry brought an entire tamburica orchestra with him, including his upright bass.

Our cabin, which we shared with four other couples, was easily identified by lanterns and rope lights, a slivovica dispenser and continuous jamming.

This picture does not do justice to Kefana, but it was one of the more packed nights of dancing.

An impromptu gypsy jam with Kalman and Joe.

Practice for singing Ladarke, a multi-part traditional Croation song.

August, new worlds

1 August Mom would have turned 69.
Early-mid August, family get togethers at Cape Hedge Beach in Rockport are bittersweet as Will and Sara prepare to leave for vet school in Minnesota.
11 August Will and Dad embark for Maryland. Jerry and I leave for Balkan Camp in Rock Hill, NY.
12 August Will and Sara, Dad and Al and Maggie kiss Barbro goodbye and embark on a 15 hour convoy of Element and Volvo (does that sound like a cartoon duo to you?) to Indiana, where Jerry's parents are awaiting the weary travelers.
13 August Convoy leaves Indiana for Minnesota.
15 August Jerry's birthday. Dad returns to Massachusetts.
18 August Return from Balkan Camp to see the world in a whole new way, which seems to offer no reason whatsoever to go to work.
24 August Jerry and I sit in as special guests at our new friend Rachel's birthday party concert where she played accordion with a brass band, upright bass, vibe player, drummer and guitarist.
and the month isn't over yet.

July 15

The next day, we went to Wingarsheek Beach. Annoyed that they were still charging to park at 4 p.m. with rain immenent, we waited in the parking lot chatting insider beach knowledge with the other determined locals. The next hour was a grey and drizzly wade into the knee-deep creek of Wingearsheek, and somehow completely satisfying nonetheless. Then we met Dad for dinner. Truly a lovely birthday.

Most romantic birthday eve dinner ever

When I arrived home from work, I stepped through the gate into the backyard where a canopy with lights is set up over the picnic table on the patio. Pre-war swing is the soundtrack. The table set by candle light. Menu: Grilled carrots and parsnips, grilled lamb with a salad of baby spinach, bleu cheese and cranberries. To drink, red wine over grilled peaches. Dessert he refused to identify but it as an entirely too fashionable looking chocolate torte. THEN came the gifts. All my favorite candies (cordials, grapefruit slices, marzipan...) but most of all, a new flute. Don't get any ideas ladies.