Bingo with the Boulistes

I cannot imagine a more "local" activity when in Marseille than to play bingo with a group of Boulistes (boules players) except of course to actually play boules with these gentlemen.

On Sunday afternoon a friend brought me along to the annual bingo (called loto in French) arranged by her boules association in the southern parts of Marseille. As soon as we entered through the door everybody greeted me as a friend, and when they were told that it was my birthday, I was kissed and hugged by numerous people.

There was Roger, the president of the association, Fortunée, nicknamed so because his real name is Richard, Valentine called so because it is his dog's name. However, Mastre, which in Provence means a person who is bit stupid/slow was not there, but Serge, Michel and the others ensured the entertainment. There were also wives, daughters and those who just dropped by.

Teasing remarks flew across the long tables, and it was all very jovial. I overhead the end of a conversion, which amused me considerably. i don't know what the subject of discussion was, but the end went as follows:

He: Ma foi.

She: Ma foi.

He: Ma foi.

Ma fois is still a much used expression in Provence and means something like "believe me", where you  want to underline a positive or negative statement.

I took the opportunity of having so many locals around me to do a quick research on the Provençal word cagole, and there was certainly not unanimity about its meaning. My friend thought that a cagole is a woman who is easy to get into bed, whereas the others around our table defined a cagole as a vulgar woman. On link the Provençal cagole is a woman who dresses in a provocative way, wears cheap jewellery and makes grammatical errors, in short, a bimbo.

I started out well by winning almost immediately a gourmet basket which contained foie gras, wine and other delicatesses. Roger, who was in charge of the game, remembered my name, so when I raised my hand, people were shouting 'Charlotte has won! It's her birthday!" I soon ran out of luck, but others were the happy receivers of the many gifts.

As the hours passed, the players got more and more noisy despite no alcohol being involved, private conversations took over the game, people were asking for numbers to be repeated, my friend screamed quine (line) when we were actually playing for the full card......

Roger pronounced the numbers in a loud voice with a strong Marseillais accent, which made me laugh. Basically the nasal sounds that we foreigners fought hard in school to learn do not exist in Provence..... As is usual in bingo games all over the world, many numbers were followed by particular expressions, of which some were of local origin. I tried to note them all down so that I would not forget:

2 - merdeux

6 - elle est en l'air

7 - sept nuits mon amour

9 - elle est en bas

10 - disputez-vous

11 - les jambes

12 - leves la blouse

13 - restes raide

20 - le bon vin

22 - les flics

33 - le docteur

54 - la Timone

69 - essuies-toi le moustache

80 - dans le coin

90 - le papé

Many of these expressions have a naughty meaning; which is obvious to anybody with a basic knowledge of French, but only Marseillais will know that 54 is the bus that goes to the hospital La Timone which many years ago was a psychiatric hospital.

There was a break in the middle of the afternoon when the Provençal cake eaten for Tiphany was served. It is called a galette de roi, and the Provençal version is a crown made of soft, white bread decorated with red and green candied fruit, and though there was no crown to be won, I think Roger, the president, should have had one for his patience and ability to control a group of unruly Boulistes throughout a long afternoon.