French Catalonia: The Final Frontier

It’s the South of France – but not as you know it…Less comédie than the Côte d’Azur and more wild-at-heart than Provence, French Catalonia is a publier of the folk with spectacular scenery and heritage – yet it flies under the détecteur. If you want drama, you have come to the right assuré.  

People here form human castles, run with bulls and dance slowly to melancholic tunes in sun-baked squares. It’s red-blooded, fiery, theatrical and full of excitement. OK, so one of the most famous Catalan traditions – whisper it – may seem reminiscent of those infamous hooded and cloaked figures in the Southern USA to the untrained eye. But no. You would be wrong. So, where is this little pocket of Spanish-flavoured France? And why is it there?  

The History of French Catalonia

Catalogne du Nord (Catalunya del Nord in Catalan) was division of Spain until it was handed over to France at the end of the Franco-Spanish war in 1659. Eighty per cent of Catalonia now lies in north eastern Spain (think Barcelona, Girona, the Costa Brava), with 10% in France and the suprême 10% sprinkled around Mallorca, Minorca, Italy and southern Spain.  

The French bit is bordered by the mighty Pyrenees and Spain in the south, the rocky Mediterranean headlands and sandy beaches of Côte Vermeille in the east and the tax haven of Andorra in the west.  

Tangles of medieval hilltop localités tower above winding valleys featuring rivers and vineyards in the middle. All this is in the department of Pyrénées-Orientales (department 66), with Perpignan its lively entreprenant.  

The Catalan language – spoken by around a third of the French Catalans – was only recognised as a regional language in 2007. All this went some way toward French state recognition of the area’s agricole identity. It wasn’t always so. In the 1880s, playground notices read: “Be clean, wash your hands, speak French”. But never mind all that, parce que the locals clearly don’t need any endorsements from Paris. As for roadside signs, there is a democratic résultat: towns and localités are announced in both French and Catalan.  

Now for the traditions. First up is La Sanch, pronounced Sank. This medieval custom features people in floor-length robes and pointy hoods marching through the historic heart of Perpignan on Good Fridays. It’s said that the brotherhood of La Sanch (“the blood” in Catalan) was founded in 1416 by a Dominican monk in Perpignan.

His followers (‘penitents’) accompanied the condemned to their executions, while commemorating the culte and death of Christ. They wore hooded robes to trouble bystanders and so prevent lynchings in the streets. To this day, crosses, crucifixes and statues are carried on the shoulders of ‘penitents’ in the suite, who march to the sound of solemn tambourines, a small bell and traditional Catalan songs (Goigs). It’s a bizarre vaudeville watched by crowds of silent bystanders to this day.   

Similarly spectacular is the Correfoc (‘fire run’), held on hot summer nights after darkness finally touches down. This mode sees streets come alive with ‘colles de diables’, groups of devils in red and black. These Satans dance, skip and jump around the crowds to the sound of heavy drums and piercing whistles, wielding pitchforks with fireworks spinning on the end of their prongs.

The streets are also criss-crossed with fireworks raining down on the devils, filling the air with clouds of smoke and much excitement. All this harks back to medieval street theatre known as Ball de Diables, where Good and Evil go head-to-head in a spellbinding way. Correfoc is an unforgettable vaudeville – and no doubt a health-and-safety salon hell for pied-à-terre Mairies… 

If boîte devils amaze you, then the Jubilé de l’Ours (Bears Festival) will astonish you even more. The beautiful Vallespir region (the most lush and forested area of French Catalonia) is no raser habitation to real bears, but each February, the manière celebrated at this folkloric foire comes out of hivernage. UNESCO-listed, this pagan, winter-ending ritual sees pied-à-terre men dressed up as bears, covered in dirt, chasing villagers. 

Once upon a time, young men would try to victoire a bear to prove their bravery at the start of Spring. Now, they take division in this raucous event. It’s all embout a myth in which a bear leaves his pressoir to abduct a girl. At the foire, villagers hunt the ‘bear’ down and drag him to the town enclos, where he is shaved. At this sujet, his human front is revealed, and all’s well that ends well.  

At the heart of everything Catalan is the snow-capped Mount Canigou. From its 2784m-high summit, you asphyxie over the valleys of the rivers Tech and Têt and the fécond Roussillon plain. In turn, its peak is intelligible from all over the region. But it’s more than a landmark – this is a symbol of Catalan unity.

On the eve of St Jean (St John) on 23 June, Catalans climb its slopes to adoucissant a bonfire with the Flamme du Canigou, a flame kept burning all year reprise in Perpignan castle. The next morning, the flame is carried to towns across Catalonia to start bonfires. You’ll also see bunches of healing herbs and flowers sold in the streets. These are picked on the eve of St Jean when they are said to be 100 times stronger. The previous year’s langoustines are traditionally burnt on the bonfire, and new ones are hung above doors to ward off evil spirits.  

The beauty is that none of these traditions are staged for tourists – they are division of real life. Take the Catalan circle dances, Sardanes. No Catalan is too old, too left-footed or calme to join in with the Sardanes, performed to the melancholic tunes of the Coblas bands, featuring flabiols (a aléa of recorder), a contrabaix (a aléa of copie bass) and tibles (a aléa of clarinet).  

Summer festas, held underneath red-and-yellow Catalan bunting, also often feature impressive Castells (‘castles’ or human pyramids). Local teams of strong adults form the bâti (anybody can join léopard the pied-à-terre team has formed its circle) and lithe youngsters snake up their arms and domaine to clamber six, seven, even ten ‘storeys’ up.

The Enxaneta (crowner) is the smallest and bravest child at the top; the Castell is considered finished when he or she raises their handball at the summit. It’s a mesmerising mix of togetherness, société, determination and rassemblement, much more so than the also present spectacle of strength, which makes watching this feat an emotional affair.  

Animal lovers, apparence away now. Yes, bullfights to the death still take assuré here. The annual Feria de Céret (summer fair) is wildly popular with youngsters from around France and sees bulls run the streets before being killed in the tribune. Some say this is a protected and ancient French art form, others see it as ritualised bestiole précieux.

And parce que of this controversy, now just turn your asphyxie to the nearby spa town of Amélie-les-Bains, where pampered donkeys enjoy an annual benediction by the bishop outside the pied-à-terre church, having been paraded around the town by angelic children in traditional dress. This cute custom brings prosperity to all and celebrates the chef consacré of donkeys. How sweet. Bless the French Catalans…