Bastille Day

National holiday, and you'd think it would be a bit more national holidayish.  Perhaps it is because we're in the countryside...
A busy day nonetheless.  We started with a brocante (basically a garage sale) early in the morning after a good rainy night. -- Picture the movie Ratatouille, in the beginning, countryside, rainy... that's it!   The deal here is that you can't just decide to have a garage sale.  You have to have it when your town has it, and everybody in the town who wants to participate does, and other outside vendors come in too.  Now realize that a "town" can be rally just a cluster of houses here.  There's usually some food, and at today's there was an old car show as well.  These have to be scheduled with the local government.  There is even a book printed with dates and locations of brocantes around this region.  Basically, it's garage sale stuff with some exceptions because the old stuff is French old stuff.  And the old cars are Citroens, Renaults (sp? I should know, I'm driving one, but...), and Pugeots.  And the food is... well,  :)
In the evening, we were invited to the town of Cressin-Rochefort's fete by our new friends Glenda and Mej, British ex-pats. The town gathers down at the pompiers (fire station), next to the school and mayor's place.  The firemen dig a pit for sausages, cover with coals, and roast.  Then there is the giant grill, where they get about 40 legs of lamb going.  There's a bar for before, but all the food and wine you can eat and drink is included in the price of your ticket (here, 17euros).  The mayor himself is one of the servers.  There's home made bread mounded in baskets on the tables, then the sausage comes around with a lovely horseradishy mustard. 
* At this point, about 9:30, I had to dash down the road to the next town of Culoz to pick up Andy and his friend Ned at the train station as they returned from their side trip to Spain and Portugal.  10 minutes there, 10 minutes back, didn't miss a beat!!
Next came the lamb and a gratin of potatoes.  Shall we say, more cream and cheese than potatoes, oh my gosh!  And it just kept coming.  More anyone?  Pass your plates down.  There was an old guy playing accordion and a trumpeter, and folks would dance when the mood struck and in between heaping plates of food.  Then came the cheese course.  We're in France after all!  Two local varieties, Comte and something else that I was too overwhelmed to remember.  After that, sweet, juicy whole white peaches.  Oh la la!
Everyone is comfortable with each other, everyone welcoming, friendly, mildly interested that we are new in town, nobody seemed to care whether it was Bastille Day or not, for, en fin, a wonderful time had by all!