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.

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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.