At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

When night comes, young people take over the boulevards, the volume of the speakers explodes and the feria gets carried away… Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

The Gabi gang (2nd g), during the opening aperitif at the Cristal bar. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

Francky and the peña del Fuego, on a powerful cumbia solo. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

Bachelor party day, in a unicorn and in music, for the Alsatian Jérôme. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

Under the sun, the smile of Dunkerquois, and the dog Upso, landed in the land of Cévennes. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

The experienced and mostly bearded team of the Barry caterer, thirty years of feria at the counter… Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

Between mother and daughter, Anne-Marie and Cindy, the tradition of the feria continues. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

At the Ascension Feria, I go down the Louis and I go up the white

Friendships will be celebrated until late…Tomorrow is so far away. Midi Libre – STEPHANE BARBIER

An Ascension fair, first of all, is downed by the Louis-Blanc as conscientiously as the glasses of friendship over the counters. Then, it comes back together, naturally, generating encounters which form the memory of a party.

So 40 days after Easter, in Alès in the Cévennes, a pagan festival begins. The aptly named Ascension or tripe festival, whose artery of Boulevard Louis-Blanc fuels the festive heart and sparks encounters. Starting with the gang's aperitif at Gabi, " at Cristal, the legendary bar of the feria " , first stop on this journey before heading up to lunch with a paella at Sophie and Bruno Barry’s. A couple of caterers with thirty years of experience under their belt and a ruler, " doing quality, smiles the boss. Here, you know, there are few tourists, it’s a big votive festival in short. But with bulls. »
The Cévenols are not mistaken, neither are the others… hellip; Like Sandrine, Mickaël, Florine, Thomas, from Dunkirk, and the chihuahua Upso. " So yes, people from the North have the sun in the heart, but having it for real is better " smiles Sandrine. From the sun, the Alsatian Jérôme, in his unicorn costume for his bachelor party, was lucky to find some. Stéphanie, his bride, having chosen Ibiza for her farewell to her life as a young girl, was less concerned about the weather.

The night lights up with strobes cutting out, in flashes of color, smiling faces, sideways glances, bodies reeling with drunkenness

If the Alès feria competes with the Pacha evenings, the legendary club of the Balearic island is, undoubtedly, through the power and virtuosity of the trumpet of Francky de la peña del Fuego . Originally from Saint Quentin-de-la-Poterie, composed of ten musicians, their interpretation of the famous cumbia Sobre del Mar capsized the audience gathered by this swaying rhythm. At their side, with the peña l’Occitane, the beef was inevitable and tasty, to the pleasure of music lovers re-enchanted when the speakers of the bodegas stopped spitting out titles whose lyrics left little doubt about the meaning of the song. stake at the counter. " I'm not here to suck ice cubes, I didn't come to buy the fund… hellip; " screams the sound system of the Saint-Hilaire omnisport/la Jasse de Bernard while the sound system of the Rugby Club Cévennes responds, the square of which, as the day fades, fills up.

Quickly things go wrong, streams of people cross paths while the PA potentiometers go to extremes. We go from Confidence for confidence by Jean Schultheis to Suavamente by Elvis Crespo to slide In the eyes of Émilie by Joe Dassin. A way of attracting through rhythm this crowd who still hesitates to settle down, anxious to take on the energy of this moving feria. The music makes the young jump, the less young dance, and the night lights up with strobes, cutting out, in flashes of color, smiling faces, sideways glances, bodies reeling with intoxication. The party is on. Nothing matters anymore than letting yourself be devoured by the desire to experience this ascension…hellip; Until I'm no longer thirsty.

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