Last day of CaDansa... like in every other festival, the last day is always the most demanding. Not because of being the last, but the accumulation of tiredness can be so much that even making a simple step could demand a lot more than usual. And there's of course the big small detail that is saying farewell to the whole family.
The sun came out sunny and bright, making us fell terribly happy to have the opportunity to see sun in the flat lands. Less bright was the fact that we woke up rather late, thus late that we missed pretty much the entire first concert of the day, which would last until dinner time.
The emotion was in the air, people were a bit nostalgic, despite the smiles, tiredness and spinnings around - they wouldn't stop until the very end - but we had bands that made us move, move enough to hold and dance the very last compass.
Also, we had offerings from Santa Claus, who gave some surprises to the ones that decided to leave their shoe behind at CaDansa. I didn't left mine because of the uncomfortableness of cycling back on the midst, but Eva, who had a broken feet, offered to share her shoes and let me use one of hers hence having gotten from him the most diverse christmassy biscuits and a pin, that I know keep safe as one of the many memories of this festival.
Music went on, and on; and we followed it, dancing and running and spinning, and talking and massaging our crying legs, or backs, or just relaxing, with our eyes closed, enjoying the purity and melody of the tunes played by the most amazing folk musicians.
Still, the cloak room started to be emptied out, and the first people started to leave the halls, to make their journey back home. At this point, music almost stopped and everyone got envolved, hugging and saying a few last words, making sure contact wouldn't be lost, nor the people forgotten.
It is odd to think how much this moment meant to me... I felt almost like I was leaving a big, broad family, made of everyone there: the organisers, volunteers, musicians, dancers... everyone got, one way or another, connected by the magic of these three days we spent at Utrecht, moved by the music announced. Many friends were discovered, others maybe something more than that (who knows?), but anyhow, seeing everyone getting ready to get back to their daily lives made me feel rather sad, but with a smile on the face.
Because I know that, even though countries might separate most of us apart, we all have folk music in our hearts, and we need just another event like this to get the family back again together. To see that look in the eyes, the shiver that runs you down at the first blow of that tune that you love so much; the wildness of those bourrées, the intimacy of that mazurka... the cheerfulness of those cercles.
Give me just another change, and we'll be together again very, very soon.
And for now, we stay here.