Feira Franca

Pontevedra, like almost all Galician cities, has its own historical festival. Feira Franca is a Medieval fair celebrated every September. The name comes from the Middle Ages when Pontevedra was granted permission for a month-long market free of taxes. For the past two decades, this one-day blast from the past has completely transformed the city.

The first time I went, last year, I was amazed by the fact that everyone was dressed up. I love festivals that require costumes, so Lugo's Roman/Celtic fair Arde Lucus is another one of my favorites. But there its reputation has made it blow up, attracting visitors who come as tourists without costumes. Pontevedra, on the other hand, seemed to have kept it a secret. Requiring vendors to dress with the theme helps. But this year, there were a few more people dressed in modern clothes. I guess the cat's out of the bag!

Friday night, several knights ride into town on horses, to read the proclamation. That the next day commences Feira Franca! Saturday is full of activities for the whole family: an obstacle course and theatrical performance for kids; Medieval stands to peruse; jousting tournaments; Medieval dance class; spectacles and roving bands. Once again we rented a table in the old town for lunch and to rest our weary feet throughout the day. Some restaurants go all out for their lunch guests on the terrazas. It's fun to see decked out banquets, fit for the Medieval nobility seated at them. Groups of friends can also set up their own Medieval lunch under tents in the tree-lined promenade of the city center.


This year my favorite part of Feira Franca was the Medieval dance. First the professionals danced. Then, with A Peregrina church for a background, a few dozen of us (mostly commoners, some nobles) pranced around in wide skirts or breeches. The most intimate contact was grasping of hands as we danced. Scandalous! Maybe next year we'll choreograph something to the sound of lutes and harpsichords-- something to amaze the troubadours.

The fun continued on to the wee hours of the night. It ended in a bar with a movie screen which was showing none other than ¨Monty Python and the Holy Grail.¨ Relevant.

More Pyrenees: Hiking in Aigüestortes National Park

A few minutes by car from the Vall de Boi is the Spanish National Park Aigüestortes i Estany Sant Maurici, the fourth national park I've been too (after Picos de Europa, The Galician Islands, and Ordesa y Monte Perdido). It's name is Catalan for Twisting Waters and Lake St. Maurice. Again, to get into this park you park outside and from there can take park transportation inside. But due to the winding trails, it's a van instead of a bus, and therefore much more expensive.

This time we opted to hike the entrance trail. It took a few hours, almost always uphill, and often following a river. The trail sometimes opened up to grassy, mossy pastures with pine trees and the ever-present mountain backgrounds. On our way into the park we passed one of the hundreds of lakes.

When we arrived to where the transportation would have dropped us off, we had lunch in the shade. Then we decided to continue towards Estany Llong, the closest lake on the map.On this hike we came across a herd of cattle grazing. Further on, there were so many streams crisscrossing, that they had built a wooden platform to cross the very alpine valley. Near the end of this trail was one of the shelters and then the rocky path got really steep really fast. Whew! I needed a rest before I could really take in the lake.

Estany Llong

For the first leg of the hike, we passed many other hikers. Then on the second leg, towards the second lake, we only passed people going the opposite direction. So finally, on the way back from Estany Llong it was just us. And it started to drizzle. We took a final walk around the deck they have set up near the starting off point, and hopped in a group taxi back to the car.

The Pyrenees Cont'd: Romanesque Churches in Catalunya

Sant Feliu de Barruera

On to the Catalan Pyrenees we went. The star of this region's Pyrenees has to be the Vall de Boi, a valley that blends beautiful mountain backgrounds with UNESCO World Heritage sites. Within the valley, there are nine Romanesque churches. Again, thinking back to the time it was built, it's amazing to imagine that they had such a need for so many churches within such a small territory. Granted, with the hills trekking to mass couldn't have been easy. But several are within 30 minutes walking distance of each other. There must have been a lot more hillside dwellers than nowadays.

Sant Climent de Taüll

For 8€ we went in 3 churches and the Romanesque museum (which honestly wasn't that beneficial). Most of the churches have the characteristic bell tower that you can climb up. At Santa Eulàlia I went all the way up, but in Sant Climent de Taüll I got too nervous and had to go back down. And all of those bell towers still have very active bells. I guess if it were my job to ring them, I could've brought myself to regularly climbing up all the way. But not my cup of tea. In Sant Climent, perhaps the most famous one, they have a really neat audiovisual projection. The Romanesque art behind the altar is very colorful, although after nearly a milllenium it's quite faded. So the projection of how it would have looked made it more real.

Santa Eulàlia d'Erill al Vall

Our campsite in the Vall de Boi was on the edge of an open field, with only one or two fellow campers. From the tent door we could see one of the Romanesque churches up on a hill about 500 meters away. The first night there was a bad storm. I cursed the fact that we had sought shade, imagining that the tree behind us could be struck by lightening and come crashing down. Obviously, that didn't happen. We survived! And barely any water got in.

Sant Joan de Boí 

Santa María de Taüll

I really enjoyed the Vall de Boi. Nature and history: what's not to love? Lots of tourists, yes, but when we went down to one of the villages to have a beer, we heard a lot of Catalan being spoken. Also, when we had a nice dinner, it seemed the majority of diners were speaking Catalan. There the waiter pegged us for Galicians right away because of the accent. I didn't correct him. :p

Pyrenees Cont'd: Hiking in Ordesa-Monte Perdido

Medieval Bridge

Rocky tent view

Our second night camping in the Pyrenees, we changed campsites-- a definite upgrade. El Valle del Bujaruelo was much cheaper, much closer to our national park destination (Ordesa y Monte Perdido), and had a much better view from the tent opening. Our first afternoon we decided to explore the valley area, taking a walk down a road to another campsite and shelter for mountaineers. Despite being kilometers away from the nearest town (the Medieval town of Torla-Ordesa, population: 315) and near the base of a mountain, there was a Medieval Bridge. The now-shelter used to be a hospital in the Middle Ages. Hard to imagine there being enough mountainside population to warrant a hospital, but long ago that region must've been booming with farmers (and traffickers) rather than tourists.

Waterfall en route

The next morning, we got up early to head to the National Park of Ordesa and Monte Perdido. To limit traffic, you have to catch a bus in the town Torla-Ordesa which will take you into the park. We did the most common hike along with hundreds of other people: to the Cascada de la Cola de Caballo (Horse Tail Waterfall). I was surprised that the majority of our hike wasn't on a narrow trail, but a wide path. Obviously, to accommodate so much traffic. The hike started off uphill, through a forest. Along the way we saw several cool waterfalls. As the shade began to disappear the path wound up some rocks. But as B pointed out, if the families with kids could do it, so could I. (All of the kids we saw, however, were definitely in better shape than me).

Valley-- the end is nigh!

In the final stretch, the path opened up into a big, green valley surrounded by grey, rocky mountains. Magnificent! Tucked in the mountain's corner was the Horse Tail Waterfall which was true to its name. Tons of people were already there, having lunch, taking pictures, and splashing around in the freezing spring water.

Horse Tail Waterfall

We varied the walk back and savored those mountain views. After we got the bus back to town, I mustered up the energy to walk around the town a bit, nowadays just a tourist destination. We stocked up on some food for dinner and had a well-deserved beer. 

¨Fire bulls¨ in the Aragonese Pyrenees

Now that I'm settled into another school year teaching English in Galicia, I've mustered the willingness to recap some summer and pre-summer fun. This year's vacation destination (aside from a rejuvenating trip home for a few weeks) was the Pyrenees. We spent a week in awe of these mountains and the scenery it created, as well as the centuries-old architecture typical of the region. We stayed on the Spanish side, between the regions of Aragon and Catalunya.

During our first day in the Pyrenees, we went to Canfranc-- a little village with a massive train station. Abandoned train station, that is. It was used to welcome the many immigrants coming from France (and from the rest of Europe) with style. Nowadays, you can't go in or even cross the train tracks. They do have thematic nighttime visits we were unable to attend. Maybe next year!

The first night within the Pyrenees, we stayed at a campground nestled on the side of a hill full of green trees. It had a pool, too, with million dollar views. I thought it was lovely, but later on would realize that there were bigger and more beautiful mountains to be seen. By serendipity, the nearby town of Biescas was having their annual town fair. The main event: Toros de fuego (fire bulls). There were signs around the town warning festivalgoers that they participated at their own risk. Closed toe shoes required. Protective headgear and glasses required. In my head I had already begun to imagine insane (and inhumane!) Spanish ¨festivities¨ involving lighting a poor bull's horns on fire and setting him loose as the crowd does an even wilder running of the bulls. Not my idea of a fun night on vacation.

Fire bull with bullfighter to boot!

Our brief stroll through town brought us to an open plaza full of people just standing around. Chatting. Waiting. I had seen on the schedule that the kiddie fire bulls were about to start. And suddenly, an announcement and out came a man jogging with a barbecue barrel on his head. It was meant to look like a bull, and aside from the sparklers sticking out from its horns, it also dropped firecrackers that went whirring through the air in circles as they ended in cracking explosions. A handful more of these ¨bulls¨ came out, families dodging their sparklers. Since we were in the plaza, we also took to dodging the jogging fire bulls. I screamed every time they got close.

While the kiddie hour was exhilarating enough for me, I imagined the ¨real deal¨ at 1 AM could get ugly. Surely they had used people dressed as bulls so that the earlier run was family-friendly. I wanted to pass on the event, but also felt a morbid curiosity as to what it would be like. We had dinner and some drinks to kill time. At 1 we were in the plaza again. I wasn't convinced that I wanted to participate. My partner, on the other hand, had got sunglasses from the car (as per the warning signs) and was ready to roll. As I looked around the plaza, I noticed that there were a lot of teenagers around. And equally as many drunk people who I feared didn't stand a chance. They would fall and be trampled! Then, some motion in the corner of the plaza. I ducked over to a stone staircase where plenty of people were hiding from harm's way. Yet once again-- to my delight-- there were no real bulls, just people running around with big barbecue barrels over their heads, spewing out flying fireworks.


What a blast! Running, dodging, taunting! At one point I ran with a group of people down a street, which was partially blocked off from the fire bulls. When I turned to go back to the action, another bull came barreling past, so I ducked behind some of the wall that made a little corner.  Once on the ground, the firecrackers that came flying off the bulls snaked around incessantly for a few minutes. Of course, one of the firecrackers got stuck in my little corner, near my feet. I freaked out and scampered away. Back in the main plaza, there were probably a dozen fire bulls at once, coming from all directions. We must have been at it for an hour, but it didn't seem that long. Time flies when you're having fun...dodging firecrackers from people dressed as bulls in tiny towns in the Pyrenees.

San Xoán Herbs in Pontevedra

One of the traditions of San Xoán (Midsummer) is to collect the ¨Seven Herbs of San Xoán¨ that evening, put them in a tub outside, and wash your face/feet/body the next day. The combination of these herbs and San Xoán dew leaves your skin feeling smooth and...lucky? According to a ¨definitive list¨ these herbs include: St John's wort, lemon verbena, mallow, rosemary, fennel, broom, and fern. The seven herbs vary by village. Case in point: on our plant-gathering walk along the river, we ran into two elderly women. They looked at the plants we had already collected, and disagreed with more than half of them, saying ¨No way, that one's worthless! We don't use that¨ etc. They were right about one thing though, since we confused St. John's wort with a similar plant. At the end of our hike we had 6/7 of the usual plants, plus some mint and oak leaves. It really did smell delightful and left my face feeling fresh the next day.

It would seem my goal for San Xoán is to spend it in a different city each year, since so far I've spent the magical night in Coruña, Lugo, Compostela, and this year Pontevedra. While in the previous cities they actively maintain the traditions of bonfires, in Pontevedra due to city ordinances there are only 2 or 3 public bonfires on the outskirts of town.

We started our evening going to one of the few gatherings right in front of our house. First there was a concert of traditional music. Dozens of neighbors playing the accordion, guitar, tambourine, shells, and bagpipes. We danced a waltz. Since we both dance bad, I bet it almost looks good! They played a polka, too! By the time the concert was finished, it was time to get a free sardine, fresh off the grill. I am not a big fish fan, but in keeping with traditions I ate half.

We left before the communal bonfire started. Somehow we got invited to a private bonfire further outside the city. There we were met with a multigenerational cookout. They built a small bonfire in the yard, which I jumped over 5 times. Seven jumps is the norm, but as long as it's an odd number you're safe. Afterwards, the youth headed to the village's big bonfire. Way too wide to jump over. However they had a smaller fire where kids were lined up waiting to jump. We spent the rest of the night grooving to the music. Unfortunately, we didn't greet the dawn (another tradition). Maybe next year.

Roman Bridges and Hórreos in Cerdedo

A short drive from Pontevedra en route to Lugo, nestled in a gorgeous green valley is the tiny town of Cerdedo. I had always wanted to check it out, from observing the cute stone church plaza from the bus window many times. And luckily we took advantage of a slightly drizzly Saturday to visit. After all, in Galicia if you wait for the rain to stop to make plans, you'll be waiting quite a while. (Yes, even now that it's officially summer we've been having a streak of mid 60s and cloudy. Bah!)

Some hórreos of Cerdedo (Pedre)

If Cerdedo is ¨famous¨ for anything, perhaps that would be its groups of hórreos (traditional Galician structure to hold grains). Within its parishes there are 3 different groups. We ¨only¨ saw two of them. The first one, in the village of Pedre, was bigger. Within 200m were a dozen of these now-abandoned granaries. The plaza next to them was also curious as it seemed to have a cruceiro (short pole with a cross at the top) every five steps. Depending on the area, they're made of either bricks, slitted stones, or wood. In neighboring Asturias they are much bigger, always wooden, and square rather than rectangular. In Cerdedo they are also made of wood. 

What greenery!

A short walk from the first set of hórreos was the first Roman bridge crossing the Lérez River. The pathway to get down there was also supposedly Roman, but we weren't convinced. The all-encompassing greenness of the forest reminded me of a generic wallpaper photo. Sad that nature reminds me of technology. Anyways, the bridge was built high above the river. And on one of it's stones was carved in 1937 (?) ¨MANOLO.¨ I wonder if Manolo is still alive, living in infamy. Did he survive the Civil War at least?

Stones of Cerdedo ¨City¨

Once in Cerdedo ¨city¨ (population less than 2,000), there is another grouping of hórreos. Fewer, but longer. The town's prize may just be it's stone church and plaza which are right along the main street. The grey stone type is typical of Galicia; reminds me of Compostela even. Of course right next to it is the cemetery with some really great valley views for the dearly departed. A downward pathway leads to another Roman bridge. This one is less high and imposing, and leads to a little chapel.

All in all, Cerdedo was really likable, especially for such a small village. Glad to have gone for a visit and gotten out of town for an afternoon!

Amsterdam

Although it was a 3-day trip, only 1 of those days was spent in the city of Amsterdam. I had heard it's an expensive place. Luckily, we saved money by staying with friends. All museums cost 18€ (yikes), so instead of spending money on something I would feel rushed to enjoy, we just explored the city on foot for the day. Everyone else had already been to Amsterdam, so they kinda let me lead the way. And despite the cold weather (mid-May and a sweater + jacket barely kept me warm), it was a nice time.

In many ways, the highlights were exactly what I was expecting: bicycles parked everywhere, tons of bridges over tons of canals, taller people, flower markets. But I liked the architecture even more than I imagined. Brick beauties! And thanks to an in-flight magazine, we were quick to observe the large hook hanging off every roof. Those are to hoist up furniture since the staircases are narrow to save space.

And as far as typical Dutch food goes, I enjoyed a stroop waffle in the market. Two thin waffles (with cinnamon, I think) held together by a layer of caramel syrup. You can get it hot in the market, or smaller cookie versions in any grocery store. Yummo!

Biking in Holland

When I studied abroad in San Sebastián, I had a friend whose parent was from the Netherlands, and often some style or habit would make her say, ¨That is so Dutch!¨ I found myself thinking that phrase over and over again last month when we took a long weekend to visit Amsterdam and other lovely Dutch towns by bike.

More on Amsterdam later. The fun part was the Dutch countryside. We left the capital ¨early¨ Saturday morning. I say early in quotes because it was as early as a group of nine adults and two babies could get ready to ride. It seemed like the cast of an episode of  ¨Galegos no estranxeiro¨ a show that films Galicians living abroad. The group was made up of Galicians living in Holland, Belgium, and France as well as some (myself included) who were just on vacation. Anyways, the great thing about the Netherlands is they've got bike lanes all over the place. (I did not appreciate, however, that motorcycles could also use the bike trails. Talk about scary.) At some points we rode on old country roads, rarely encountering cars. One guy waved to me from his window! I was so delighted. That is so Dutch!

Zaanse Schans
About an hour out of Amsterdam was our first stop. It's a little replica village of the 1700s, with museums, shops, and of course, windmills. I really liked the architecture in Holland because it all reminded me of colonial Boston. We had a picnic lunch in front of the Cooper's workshop. Then we visited a clog shop. That is so Dutch.

Purmerend
We spent the night on a boat in this small town. Luckily we ventured further into town, because we then discovered that they were having a town fair (with rides more similar to those at home than the shabbier town fairs in Galicia). I was too pooped from all that bike riding to stay out late though, and took advantage of the excuse to go back early with one of the babies. It was cool to wake up to ducks floating outside our tiny window the next morning.

Edam
This town was so delightful! Again, because of that colonial architecture, I half expected people to come out of shops dressed in revolutionary garb. It had one main canal, with a steep brick bridge. Down a second major canal, people out for a Sunday stroll/boat ride passed us by. We stopped for lunch at a fried food shack next to the canal.

Volendam
Instead of just canals, it opens to the sea (well, an eastern bay). I wish we had had more time to spend here, since the sun was shining, and all the terraces were packed. Looked like such fun! But we had a schedule to keep, so there wasn't time for stopping in this town.

Monnickendam
This town also opens to the bay, but we mostly just saw the main canal with its old-timey sailboats. This was our last stop for some refueling before we had to kick it into high gear and bike back to Amsterdam before the bike rental shop closed. Despite being mostly flat, the last two hours of biking was really a killer. From zero exercise to a two day bike trip is quite a jump. But I survived! Crabby, but alive!

Os Maios (May Day)

May first in Galicia is a double whammy. In all of Spain, it's a holiday (Labor day), so there are marches in just about every city. This year the speeches focused on the success of the Women's Strike this past March 8th and on the continuing battle for better pensions, which has been going on for the past few months. But Galicia is also one of the few Autonomous Communities to celebrate the beginning of spring with May Day (Os Maios).

The tradition (which probably traces back to the Celts) is to make a decorated tree with flowers and bushes. In the area of province of Ourense, they can only use wildflowers and wild-growing bush. In Pontevedra, they use flowers and plants from the garden, as well as eggshells and orange peels. After building their May tree, participants dance around it while singing couplets; almost always a social critique. In Pontevedra's case, almost all the May trees were made by middle school students. The groups take turns performing in front of the crowd on a stage in a town center plaza. Then people vote on their favorite tree/couplet combination.

Another less common tradition is to place the branch of a yellow-flowered xesta (apparently called ¨common broom¨ in English) on your car. By less common, I mean not as visible in the cities. Saw tons of them at the seaside. Before cars were around, I imagine they hung them on their house doors. Hanging the plant is supposed to guarantee a fruitful harvest this year. We stopped to cut some near the side of the road, but it didn't last long wedged between the car and the license plate. I guess that means only half of our plants will die.

We took advantage of the day off and nice weather by going rollerblading by the sea. And then checking out some really big rocks. Cool.

Reconquista de Vigo

On a sunny weekend in April, Galicia's biggest city Vigo celebrated it's ¨reconquering.¨ Yet another Galician historical festival, this one takes you back to 1809, the year that Vigo's citizens took back their town from Napoleon's French army. So nowadays they celebrate with costumes from the era, plentiful vendors, and traditional dances. Most people who dress up just wear traditional Galician garb, or simple clothes to suit the 1800s. People dressed as French soldiers were few and far between.

Compared to two of my favorite historical festivals so far (Arde Lucus and Feira Franca), Vigo's Reconquista just didn't blow my mind. One big part of that is crowd participation. I love dressing up. Therefore, I love seeing other people dressed up, too. At Arde Lucus and Feira Franca, around 90% of people are wearing a historical costume. For the Reconquista of Vigo, of the people in the old town, where the fair was held, only about half were dressed up. And outside the old town, for example at the train station, there was no sign of the historical fest. At least the city council attempted to encourage participation. All of the vendors (and there were a lot of them) were required to dress for the time period, and also have a booth that was looked the part. And they also had people use paper cups which are slightly better for the environment than thousands of plastic cups.

Daytrippers South of the Border

One benefit of living in Galicia is that Portugal is just a short drive away. When you cross the border, it's actually hard to tell the difference since the scenery is the same on the other side of the Miño River. While some insist that Portuguese and Galician are the same language, for me the  pronunciation is the only clue that you've made it south of the border.

On Palm Sunday we set out relatively early (especially keeping in mind that the hour hand had sprung forward). First stop: Tui. Given the holiday, we observed a procession of nearly 100 people around the town, following a statue of Jesus on a donkey. They didn't carry the palms we are used to back home; rather olive branches are more popular. Back in the day, people would leave the olive branch on their land since it was thought to bring fertility to the summer's crops.

I don't know why, but I was expecting Tui to be more magical. After all, it used to be a capital of the 7 Galician Kingdoms.  Tui's old town center is pleasant. But after seeing a lot of pretty, old town centers, I wasn't amazed. What did amaze me, however, was the information they had about Jews and the Jewish quarter of Tui. The Jews were kicked out of Spain in 1492. So in the north at least, vestiges of them are rare to find. In Tui there was a Jewish quarter and synagogue, with some carvings on houses still visible today.

Next stop: Viana do Castelo. This port town is on the ocean and also at the mouth of the Limia River. Atop the hill next to the city, overlooking the sea, is a big white church. In some ways it reminded me of Sacre Coeur, Paris. Similar church with lots of steps and a view below. Further up the same hill is a Celtic-turned-Roman camp. If it weren't for the Eucalyptus, there would be some great views. This was reminiscent of Castro de Santa Tegra, just an hour north on the same coast. For lunch we had a pair of Francesinhas, a typical Portuguese sandwich with various meats, melted cheese on top, and a plateful of its own special sauce. The main street was lovely, with views of the port in front of you, the white hillside church behind you, and along the road colorful shops and restaurants.

Our last stop was Ponte de Limia, an interior city on the same Limia River as Viana do Castelo. Because of the holiday, there was a big market set up under the trees along the riverside promenade. The highlight of the city, though, is a Roman and Medieval bridge which leads to another little white chapel. Coincidentally they were having a Craft Beer Fest which we checked out. And after a stroll through town we went back on our merry way to Galicia.

Carnival Pt 2: Mud, Ants, and Medieval Castles

For the second part of Entroido/Carnival, we crossed the border back into Galicia. In the south of the province of Ourense, Carnival is alive and kickin'. The main sites are Xinzo de Limia, Verín, and Laza.

Little Pantallas

Our first stop was Xinzo de Limia. Despite it being a Sunday night, there were tons of people, 95% dressed in costume. Each town has their own Carnival characters, and in Xinzo they're called Pantallas, and so far are one of my favorites. Unlike the Peliqueiras of Laza, the Pantallas don't hit. They simply jingle-jangle down the street and every once in a while SLAM the two blown-up, hard cow's bladders that they carry. Usually they do this to people who aren't wearing a costume, but you can also hear SLAM SLAM regardless. And in Xinzo they start 'em young; there were at least a dozen mini-Pantallas running around town.

We turned in early for the night in Baños de Molgas, a quiet riverside village just far enough from the wild Carnival festivities to get some shut eye. The village has a spa, with the river washing up to it's door. Kind of like Venice, except I doubt anyone shows up by boat. Next to the spa is a natural hot spring, carved into a...washing station? A bath? I'm not sure which, and we didn't get in. The change in temperature made the area steamy though!

Next stop: Laza, home to some pretty wacky Carnival traditions. I had been to Laza before, except last time we arrived after the mudslinging, and only saw the destruction left behind. This year, however, we came prepared and ready to get messy. Both of us wore work clothes and arrived when the all-out mud fest was already underway. The tiny village's main plaza was divided into two ¨sides,¨ the common enemy apparently being cleanliness. An old bathtub was filled with mud and old rags. The tradition consists of throwing muddy rags, picking some off the ground, and repeating the cycle, until your hands go numb. As we approached, there were two who I deem the ¨Clean Police,¨ because they seemed to be targeting all the newcomers. ¨Take off your glasses!¨ Splash! A muddy rag rubbed in my face! Well, at least they let me take off my glasses. I kept them in the bar. But of course, then I couldn't see to aim very well (which made hitting people that much more rewarding). I'm also grateful I didn't suffer the same fate as other ¨clean¨ people who were thrown kicking and screaming into the mud bathtub.  In total, they were out there mudslinging for over 90 minutes. We sought shelter halfway through though. Mid February--that mud was cold!

In between messy Carnival traditions, we checked into our hotel which was actually a Medieval castle. In fact, I had been to visit it with friends three years ago when it was just an old castle to explore. Perfect place for a photo shoot of our Robin Hood and Maid Marian costumes! From the wraparound balcony, you could see the village of Verín below (including concerts at night), and miles of the rest of the valley. And with a welcome bottle of cava, we really did feel like royalty. That is, like count and countess.


Back in Laza for the evening, another strange tradition was about to begin. In the same main plaza from before people were starting to gather. But we went to join the festa in a ¨suburb¨ of the village, which is where the procession of ants and flour started. Yes, ants and flour. A small brass band got people psyched, as they brought out a giant ant figure. After a while, everyone walked back to the plaza, and that's where the real ants and flour started flying. By this time the plaza was absolutely packed, and we just ducked to the side of the road where people were already waiting. A few townspeople carried big sacks of dirt and ants, flinging them in the air. At one point, I wondered, 'Why are we subjecting ourselves to this? The mud can be fun, but ants!?' During the ant tossing, was flour shooting. They had what looked like leaf blowers, but loaded with flour. It's snowing! Kind of.

Blizzard? 

Follow the ant lord!

This concludes Carnival 2018. Galicia is one of the few autonomous communities where schools have a 5-day-weekend. But there are so many curious Carnival traditions within Galicia, it'll take years to discover them all. Wonder where I'll celebrate them next year...

Carnival Pt 1: Viva Pitões!

It's the most wonderful time of the year! As cold as Christmas, and everyone is likewise full of good cheer. Like in the rest of the north of the peninsula, Cádiz, and the Canary Islands, Galicia celebrates Carnival with costumes, traditions, merriment, and days off.

Robin Hood assessing the situation

For the first part of this year's celebrations, we went south of the border. Driving through the villages of Galicia, you know you're getting close to the invisible border when the car radio starts picking up mainly Portuguese-speaking stations. And the first stop beyond that invisible line is Pitões: population 200. On one side it has some rocky hills, and on the other miles of fields. Although the village is charming with red-roofed, stone houses, it's somewhat abandoned. There's a communal oven, a stone hut where they still make bread. It also has two bars in the ¨center¨ (re: a small plaza with said bars, and a multiuse building).

Some friends rented a house in quaint little Pitões, and we brought the festa with us. While in Galicia it's typical to dress up everyday for Carnival, in Portugal (or at least Pitões) not so much. The other visitors wore normal clothes, while our bunch was decked out. The day's festivities began with a handful of town elders in costume dancing and singing. Then came the band, who were Galicians too. They were dressed in traditional capes and animal hats. They kept the music going until the wee hours--and our group made sure there was always someone to accompany their playing with a muiñeira or paso doble. 

As night approached, we were in for a special treat. Gathered in the multiuse building (which during the day had held a small traditional food expo), were the same old ladies who had dressed up before and sold their homemade sausages and liqueurs. Except this time they were lined up, singing. Songs of yesteryear, I guess. Songs in Portuguese, but since Galician and Portuguese were once the same, some of our group knew the songs and could sing along. They taught us a very melancholic song, Viva Pitões! Then a few of the elders helped us dance in a round while they sung. Like Carnival ...circa 1920.

Vaia banda e vaia vistas!