Something I have learned to “be on the lookout for,” living here in the countryside of Normandy, France, is the occasion or the experience that makes me feel that I am going back in time. It might be a poster stapled to a telephone pole or barn door that catches my attention as I walk by with my dogs: “le Festival de l’Accordéon” coming up in the nearby town of Moncy. In such a case, I admit I imagine myself surrounded by hundreds of pumping accordions, and I hurry on. Yet, to certain other local events, I am drawn.
Signs for these pounce out from the roadside in bold colors and zigzags posted at regular intervals as I drive into Condé sur Noireau to do my weekly shopping. Le Cirque Zavatta, one of a handful of “cirques tziganes” (“Gypsy” or “Roma” Circuses), is on its way! Its shining red trailers will parade into town hauling lion cages, zebras, a llama, camels, and black horses with flowing manes. The Big Top will rise in the fields abutting the Super U, where the four-legged performers will graze in the grassy verges alongside the supermarket car park. I make a point of going.
Getting the chance to see the last of something turned out to be true, in this case, as lions and other wild animals in circuses were to be banned in France in three or four years. After an afternoon and evening with the Cirque Zavatta I had the sense of being in the midst of this hard-working, traveling circus family, of which the animals were an essential and beloved part.