the true meaning of fete de la cocagne

Today’s the big day. The last day of the Fete de la  Cocagne. Maybe today I’ll figure out what it is.

The main drag is closed and booths are set up for about a quarter of a mile. Booths selling stuff—yes, little make due shops! Joy to the world. I celebrate with a glace (ice cream cone) for breakfast.

There are Savoie cheese vendors, sausage and jambon vendors, vendors selling a variety of juices made in the region, arts and crafts booths, a booth selling beer made in the region, wine booths, a booth selling Auvers posters with Van Gogh paintings he painted while he was here, a bakery booth, and my personal favorite, a booth selling framed bugs and butterflies for a mere 10% of the price I’ve seen them sold elsewhere in the states or Paris.

An ooompapa band plays in the background as the tourists and natives wander the streets. Fortunately, only a few are in period costume so I don’t feel out of place or like a party poop.

I ask a few people qu’est ce que c’est cocagnes and most people shrug their shoulders. A few people answer, but I don’t understand a word they’re saying. Where is the French lesson booth when you need it?

My economic contribution is to buy two Auvers Van Gogh posters which I figure will be a nice memory of my time here and will look lovely on my refrigerator box wall when I return to the states. I also get a bottle of cherry/apple juice, a bottle of award winning Biere du Vexin (which is quite good, I must say), a delicious cheese and a small salami. There goes my grocery money for the week. But when I think about it, I’ve got all four food groups covered: dairy with the cheese, meat with the salami, fruit with the juice and grain with the beer. I’m set.

Everyone is jolly and friendly, although I don’t recognize any of them from Auvers.

All in all, it’s a lovely fete. And I think I’ve figured out what cocagne means: tourist trap.

marketing Auvers

As I explore the charming flower-lined, uncrowded streets of Auvers, I wonder why aren’t there more tourists here? Sure there’s the occasional tour bus (usually Japanese).   And French families who take their kids to see the famous landscapes they’ve probably unwillingly seen in museums. But certainly none of the multinational crowds and tourism enhanced wealth of a Les Baux, Nice, Arles or Avignon. There’s only one tiny souvenir shop in Auvers (more like a shack) and it’s only open on Saturday. That’s just wrong.

Most of the people I know have never heard of Auvers, let alone its history as an enclave of Impressionist painters. If they knew that some of their favorite paintings were created here, and that it remains virtually unchanged for the past 200 years, wouldn’t they come in droves?   The question gnaws at my marketing mind.   Here are a few ads I’ve come up with to sell Auvers as a destination.

But the appeal of Auvers is not limited to its history. It’s very close to Paris, but serene and beautiful.   So maybe…

One thing that constantly amazes me about Auvers is the scent of flowers in the air. It changes from week to week. Two weeks ago it was lilacs. Now, it’s roses. Maybe I can appeal to the new age crowd.

Maybe a “Find Van Gogh’s ear” promotion…I’m just thinking out loud here.

Obviously, I’ve only scratched the surface here and will have to put some real thinking into marketing Auvers. But I won’t rest until I’ve come up with a way to turn this peaceful town I love into a hideous, overcrowded tourist trap I can’t wait to leave.

Welcome to Auvers

Auvers is a tiny village, population approximately 6,900 (now 6,901), about 16 miles northwest of Paris, a 50 minute train ride if you hit your connections right.   Of course, I don’t know all this upon landing at CDG with two suitcases and two cats.   What I do know:  It’s close to Paris, Van Gogh died here.   A bunch of impressionists painted here.  The rent is $700 a month.    That’s good enough for me.