The Mermaid Maruxaina

Statue of Maruxaina

The Maruxaina is a legendary mermaid that lives in a cave on the Farallóns Islands, off the coast of San Ciprián/San Cibrao. As the story goes, she blows into her shell with either good or bad intentions, depending who you ask. Is she blowing to warn the sailors of upcoming storms, telling them to stay ashore? Or is her siren song meant to lure the sailors to her cave where they will never be heard from again? The trial of the Maruxaina seeks to get to the bottom of this. 

The Maruxaina Festival is a weekend-long affair in this coastal town of A Mariña Lucense (province of Lugo), culminating in the mermaid's trial. While Saturday is without a doubt the main day, the party gets started on Thursday night. And it goes late, every night. Believe me, I know. Coincidentally, we went camping just a short walk away from the main stage that weekend, and heard music booming til the wee hours, three nights in a row. 

On Thursday night, a roving band we had just seen a few weeks earlier got people in a merry mood, on this occasion staying put in the main square. They even have a song called Maruxaina which they taught to the small crowd gathered around them. The music video represents the Saturday festivities well, so take a look: 

 The chorus has been stuck in my head ever since. It goes: 

Maruxaina, deusa do mar                                                     Maruxaina, goddess of the sea
Protexe aos mariñeiros entre algas e coral                          Protect the sailors between the coral and algae
Maruxaina, vante xulgar                                                      Maruxaina, you'll be on trial
Queimade augardente e bailade ata fartar                          Burn the moonshine and dance until you drop

 
The pre-festivities continued on Friday evening with Cantos de Taberna. As we were camping, we weren't planning on going back into town, but rather decided to eat out far from the center of the action. Lo and behold, two small groups singing traditional Galician songs made it to our restaurant, so we had charming background music to accompany our meal. We turned in early, but once again, the celebration was audible until 4 AM.

Finally, Saturday: the main day. As we were having breakfast in town, I noticed all the bars and cafés had huge bars set up outside in preparation for the swarms of expected festivalgoers. And the waiter even warned us: it may be family friendly in the morning, but after 5PM kids shouldn't really be around. I can see why. Around noon the party starts. Multiple charanga bands prance around the streets. Groups of teenagers and young adults congregate in and around the bars and beach. The typical is for ¨young people¨ to share a wagon or cart with friends, stocked up with food and booze. They move as a massive pack around town, sometimes following the bands, sometimes providing their own tunes on a loud speaker. Rather than roam around, the ¨old people¨ gather for lunch on the beach. The town council provides boards that can be used as tables for beach picnics. 

So tons of people drinking from noon onwards, what do you expect? While the Maruxaina may have started as a quaint festival to recognize local lore, in its 40th edition it was essentially an excuse for debauchery.

I popped in around 8 PM to see what the vibe was like. In some places it was so crowded with stumbling youth that you could barely get through. 95% of them were wearing the costume, I'll give them that. Typical coastal gear which for men includes a white shirt, blue pants, and a blue and white plaid kerchief. For women it entails a white top, a black and white patterned skirt, a black and white kerchief, and sometimes a shawl. 

Before her trial

At 11PM the real action starts. And I got there just in time for them to drag Maruxaina out of the sea. A dozen ¨sailors¨ carry her ashore on a platform. The group was accompanied by about 20 people, including one older sailor shooting off red lights so that they could see where they were going. As she got closer, members of the crowd yelled, ¨Maruxaina!¨ ¨Fire!¨ ¨Witch!¨ Despite the throngs of onlookers, I actually got quite close to the action. Once fully ashore, it's time for the trial. At this point, I could no longer see the mermaid, but the audio was played loud enough to be heard by all in the vicinity. I'm not sure if it was recorded or was being played out in the moment. Some women accused her of being a witch and stealing away their sailor husbands. A wise old man argued that with her sounds she was warning of treacherous waters. After a little back and forth, it was decided. Maruxaina was innocent! There would be no burning at the stake that night. Show's over. You can go home.

I was probably the only one there who did just that. Back to my tent I went. Meanwhile, the party continued, 12 hours after beginning. Two fun orquestas sang and danced until.... SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. Believe me, I know. I could hear it from my tent. 

Carnival is Coming

The ¨dollar stores¨ fill up with costumes and grocery stores suddenly have a surplus of salted meats. Pork faces abound! It's time for Carnival, in Galicia called Entroido (or sometimes even Antroido). While originally I had hoped to be blogging all about the gay old time we were to have at a Carnival celebration in Northern Portugal, due to unforeseen circumstances we had to cancel. This year I will likely go to a nearby Entroido I've already seen. Of course, it's better than nothing.

So until the next new Entroido experience, I shall leave you with a picture from the local produce store. Back home people would find it quite revolting, but here nobody bats an eye. On other occasions I've even seen the pig face perched on a scarecrow-like body! Needless to say, this is a lot less creepy. Bo Entroido!

 

¨Catholic¨ Spain or Galicia

Coming from a Catholic family, when I announced I'd be moving to Spain, they were pleased since Spain is such a Catholic country. But as my parents can attest to on their recent Christmastime visit, in practice Spain isn't as Catholic as it's cracked up to be.

A small church somewhere between greenery and sea

I wanted to take my parents to a local mass in one of the over 3,000 small churches that dot the Galician countryside. But I knew that mass is not said in every parish every week. You do the math: there are around 3,700 parishes throughout Galicia and how many priests? A few hundred, if that? Fortunately for us, my parents' visit coincided with our parish's turn to host mass. So off we went, to be the talk of the town. Foreigners in our tiny village church, which isn't even on the Camiño de Santiago. Imagine!

At the end of mass, the priest mentioned seeing everyone in two weeks time, since the rotation goes every two weeks. After being dismissed, I asked the one neighbor who I am relatively friendly with about mass for Christmas day. ¨There is no Christmas mass in the village. Do you want to go? I guess you'd have to go to the city.¨ So let me get this straight. One of the holiest days of the Catholic calendar, and you just check out because there isn't mass in the parish?! Huh? Similarly, every other weekend when the priest goes to another parish, it would appear nobody makes an effort to seek out mass in another church. The neighbors in attendance couldn't even tell me which parish the priest alternates with. So that was interesting if not astounding. It would appear that mass is a social activity for 90% of people. When there's mass in the village, they go to it as a social outing to chat after mass in the churchyard. And if there's no mass, well, it's no skin off their nose. 

The world-famous Cathedral of Santiago

Another example of this blasé attitude which I'm sure shocked my parents was Communion. Where I'm from in the USA, just about everybody (kids who have made their first communion and older) goes to Communion during the mass. That's the whole point of going to church. When about 30 people attended mass in the village alongside us, a total of five people went to Communion. Including my two parents! My folks were taken aback. (Me, not so much, as I had discovered this phenomenon previously). When we went to mass at the Cathedral the following week, logically more people went up to Communion, but still not the same percentage of participation we are used to seeing back home.

I'm sure after these experiences, my parents went home rethinking their concept of a Catholic Spain. Lots of relics and churches hundreds of years old? Absolutely. Lots of faithful gathered on a weekly basis? Not so much. 

Note: I should add that while this attitude is common in Galicia, I can't confirm it in the rest of Spain. I remember the Basque Country being similar. Northerners tend to think alike in some regards. But people in the southern half of Spain (especially Andalucía, ahem) have a reputation of being very religious. So maybe they are keeping Catholic Spain alive. 

Galician Block Party

It's 3 AM on a Saturday. Do you know where your grandparents are?

Well, if they live in the Galician countryside and their parish* is having it's annual celebration, they just might be out and about. I couldn't believe my eyes. Or my watch, for that matter.

In rural Galicia, neighbors chip in for what is comparable to an annual block party or town fair. Even if there are less than 100 people living in the parish. Even if the average age is 75. These block parties are usually in spring and summer, and always honoring a saint. The party is held near the church, as each parish has its own celebration. And with over 3,5000 parishes making up Galicia, if you wanted to visit all of their little festivals, it would take years.

Full bar, awaiting the orquesta

No Galician block party is complete without a stage and a bar.  Beforehand, the planning committee goes around to the houses asking for a donation. And you better give something, or risk being labeled the village cheapskates. With the money collected they hire orquestas and bring in a bar to keep folks entertained. By the way, in Galicia an orquesta doesn't mean what you think it means. It's a band with flashy costumes, choreographed dance moves, and a truck-turned-stage with dazzling lighting. They cover a wide array of songs to get the crowd moving: cumbia, paso dobles, rumba, pop, and even rock.

The usual order of events at these block parties is: mass, sesión vermú (meaning music and dancing before lunch), and later on the verbena (more music and dancing after dinner). Some parishes have specific traditions such as processions or picnicking.

After a short but sweet trip home this summer, back in Galicia it was my first year attending our parish's late-night party. Last year we went to the pre-lunch band. But this year I arrived at midnight and was surprised to see a good amount of people, almost all sporting white locks. There were also a handful of kids in the mix, likely grandkids of neighbors. And at our block party there was not one but two different orquestas, which is incredible to me, keeping in mind that there are less than 200 people to split the costs. The celebration lasted til 4 AM. In a field in the middle of nowhere! Now that's what I call a Galician block party.

*Note: As I have explained before, parish is one of the smallest subdivisions in Galicia. Towns --concellos-- are divided into different parishes --parroquias-- surrounding the churches scattered throughout town limits. Nowadays it's not merely a religious subdivision.

It's Tough to Be a Senior in Spain

While kids in the USA are probably out of school already, students in Spain still have another 2 whole weeks of class to trudge through. Except for the ¨seniors¨ in their last year of high school (called 2nd BAC or bachillerato). They finished their final exams at the beginning of May and have spent the past month studying like crazy. Today in Galicia they are in their last day of testing for the Spanish version of the SAT-- the EBAUs. That stands for Evaluation of Bachillerato for Access to University (hey, the acronym works in English, too!)

I say Spanish version of the SAT because it is an exam necessary to get into college. But the similarities end there. Whereas in the United States students can take the SAT or ACT as many times as they want--starting early, a few years before graduation-- in Spain you've only got one shot. Not only that, but there are several exams, one for each subject. In Galicia --since there is a co-official language-- there are five written tests: Spanish, Galician, English, History or Philosophy, and Math (or another exam related to the type of bachillerato you have been studying). You can also take up to four more exams on elective subjects to raise your score.

But what happens if you have a bad day? What if you're sick or just totally blank? There is the possibility of a redo, a month or two later. But you risk the spots filling up for your chosen major. That's another difference between Spain's college access system and the United States'. Here you get into college based on your chosen major and whether or not it aligns with your combined score. Rather than GPA and SAT scores being evaluated separately, here they are combined into one neat number. Your grades in the last two years of high school count for 60% of your score and the EBAU results make up the other 40%. The maximum score is a 14. Ten of those points are made up of the aforementioned percentage of grades and test scores. The other possible four points are from exams that are ¨weighted,¨ and related to your chosen field of study. For example, future med students might take the biology or chemistry exams. Future language teachers would probably go for some other foreign languages.

Beforehand, universities publish a cut off score for each specific major. As you can imagine, medical degrees require near-perfect scores, but these minimums vary depending on the college. Then after the exam, students look at their final score out of 14 and based on that, apply to colleges and their desired major. And just because you made the cutoff score doesn't necessarily mean you made the cut. If a college's program got more applicants than it was expecting and they all did better than you, well, you might have to choose a new major or school.

So basically, after ending classes early, seniors in Spain have to hit the books, maybe even more so than during the school year. Their future is depending on it. So much for senioritis!

Top 20 Galician Festivals 🎉

Good weather is here to stay in Galicia. And with that, a celebration is in order! While Spain as a whole is known for partying and celebrations, Galicia in particular has an endless list of festivals. Whether you're fond of food, eager for a blast from the past, or wanting to embrace local culture, Galicia has got a festival for everyone! I've decided to compile the best here. Some I've been to, and some are still on my to-do list. Check 'em out!

Historical:

• Feira Franca, Pontevedra. In September, get transported back to the Middle Ages. The city gets decked out for the day, but I remember being disappointed that not everyone was dressed up. (My experience)
  
• Arde Lucus, Lugo. Kick off summer with a wildly popular clash of Roman and Celtic (Castrexo) cultures. It lasts the whole weekend and has many events such as a Roman circus, reenactments, and interactive ceremonies like Celtic baptisms. (My experience)
  
• Assault on the Castle, Vimianzo. Another Medieval Fest, but specifically around the episode which took place at this castle in 1468. In that year there was an irmandiño rebellion where they sieged the castle. Nowadays they do a reenactment where all can participate. Maybe next year will be the year I finally make it there.
  
• Ribadeo Indiano, Ribadeo. This event celebrates indianos, those Galician emigrants to Latin America lucky enough to return home with a fortune at the beginning of the 20th century. The dress code for this event is white, preferably in early 20th century style. Ribadeo -- and the northern coastal region of A Mariña in general-- has many examples of indiana architecture: ornate mansions from the turn of the century. So it must make for a lovely backdrop. Some day!
• Romaría Vikinga, Catoira. Once again off to the Middle Ages, but with a Viking twist. At this festivity they reenact the arrival of the Vikings to Galicia, who at the time were fought off. Now there are only two towers in ruins on the riverside where merrymakers welcome and party with the vikings, rather than clash with them.
  
• Festa da Istoria, Ribadavia. Around for over 30 years, this might be Galicia's original Medieval Fair. If you're looking to be transported back to the Middle Ages, you really have options in Galicia.

 

Roman fort in Arde Lucus

Gastronomic:

• Albariño Festival, Cambados. People swarm to this small capital of white wine, which keeps the crowds entertained at night with concerts. I've been and would certainly go again.
  
• Ribeiro Wine Festival, Ribadavia. Perhaps Galicia's less famous white wine, Ribeiro is celebrated in late spring. A special touch is the wine tasting in a historical building. (My experience)
  
• Wine Festival, Chantada. Always in late winter/early spring, this mostly-red-with-a-dash-of-white wine festival kicks off the year in enology. The downside on its timing is that often the weather does not cooperate. (My experience)
  
• San Simón Cheese Fest, Vilalba. Haven't been yet, but as one of my favorite types of cheese over here, it's certainly on my list! The day's events include cheese tasting and music. (My experience)
• Seafood Festival, O Grove. Razor clams, cockles, barnacles, or crab. Pick your pleasure at this event which celebrates all things seafood on the shores of the Rías Baixas. Plus, no Galician festival is complete without some concerts at night. I must admit I've never been because not only am I not a huge fan of seafood, but it always coincides with San Froilán in October.  
  
• Flat Onion Fest, Miño. In Galicia, every food is deserving of its own festival. Case in point, the flat onion. Not that I'd necessarily recommend going out of your way to attend. Unless you are crazy for this pungent veggie, that is. But it just goes to show that they'll make a festival out of anything here. For example, the following foods also boast their own festival here in Galicia: bread, sea lamprey, hake, Spanish omelette, pepper, tuna, ham, eel, the list goes on.

Onions, onions everywhere

 

Cultural:

• Cans Film Fest, Cans. If movies are more your thing, head to this tiny, tiny village between Vigo and Portugal. It's a pun on Cannes, because the village name is similar. Audiences gather to watch short films in barns, garages, anywhere! And in the evening there are concerts for your entertainment. I've been twice and would go back in a heartbeat, but there are only so many weekends in a year. ;)
  

 

Film screening over pile of wood in Cans

 

Music

• Resurrection Fest, Viveiro. Masses of metal/rock fans from all over Europe--and maybe even the world!-- flock to pack the town of Viveiro. It's a weekend full of dozens of concerts, always with some internationally-acclaimed headliners. This year will be my first time going, so stay tuned! (My experience)
• International Celtic Music Fest, Ortigueira. I've never been, but have heard many tales of the fun environment found at this festival. They bring in Celtic bands from all over the world for a summer weekend of Celtic fun.
   

 Miscellaneous

• Carrilanas (Soap Box Derby), Esteiro. I'm dying to get to this one. It's a summer soap box derby by day with big-name concerts by night! 
• Rapa das Bestas, Sabucedo and others. Hundreds of wild horses are corralled annually for a haircut and de-worming. After the job is done, a celebration ensues.
• Dorna Boat Fest, Ribeira. This longstanding festival on the coast celebrates their traditional fishing boat (dorna), a key part of life in this town for ages. It has mushroomed from a one-day gathering when it started in the late 1940s to its current form: nearly a week of activities, games, concerts, and fun for groups dressed in matching t-shirts. It even has an Icarus competition where people try to make flying contraptions, as well as a Soap Box Derby.
  
• Water Festival, Vilagarcía de Arousa. In the middle of August, this celebration is all about water to cool you down. I've never had the pleasure of attending, but from what you can see on videos online, looks like a riot! I have heard that it is more geared towards the ¨youth¨ than the middle-aged and older. 
• Corpus Christi, various. Several towns in Galicia celebrate Corpus Christi in a similar way: by designing giant ¨rugs¨ made out of petals in the streets. One year I went and watched them work at night in Redondela. It was cool, but not much of a ¨festival¨ if you are looking for a wild time.
  

 

Preparing the petal murals in Redondela

And I didn't even get into patron saint celebrations, which can be a massive event in Galician cities. Not to mention special days celebrated throughout Galicia, such as Magosto or Midsummer. So if you're planning a trip to Galicia, why not schedule your visit around a fab festival that piques your interest?  You surely won't be disappointed. Galicians know how to have a good time!

Countryside Carnival: Os Xenerais da Ulla

Apparently, apart from being on time, among my students I am also known for being a huge fan of Carnival. Guilty! A few weeks ago, when to make conversation I asked one student if she liked Carnival, she replied, ¨Not as much as you.¨ And another was surprised when I told her I still hadn't decided on a costume. So to make up for lost time (as I haven't truly celebrated since pre-COVID times), this year I'm joining in on not one but two Entroido festivities. After all, I have a reputation to uphold!

There are so many traditions and special characters throughout Galicia, and since Entroido/Carnival comes but once a year, I've decided no repeats! Every year requires a new Carnival location or else I'll never get to see them all. And on my quest for witnessing first hand all of Galicia's plethora of Carnival celebrations, this year I landed on Os Xenerais de Ulla, the Generals of Ulla. This colorful figure rides horseback in multiple towns and villages surrounding Galicia's capital Santiago de Compostela. On their website they have a calendar of all the places they will be, as they celebrate in different places all throughout the monthslong Carnival season. (You can also see some better pictures than I was able to take.)

Sunday we went for the ¨evening show¨ in Sergude. And they threw quite the party for a parish of less than 800 people. Apparently the morning session involved following the Xenerais to neighbors' yards and singing. I'm sure it would have been a fun and unique experience, but as three foreigners with no ¨in,¨ we decided to go to the less exclusive evening events. When we arrived, there were already other cars parking, but we saw little action. There was a huge tent set up with a bar and two small stages. One would clearly be for the late-night orquesta-- a Galician staple. (Although the word in English may conjure up images of dozens of string instruments seated around a conductor, in Galicia it's quite different. Here orquesta are showy bands that do cover versions of hits, performing in the smallest of villages.) Then the first band started playing and I realized that their stage was the hitch of a tractor! Que enxebre! We rocked to the traditional Galician tunes as more people started pouring into the tent area, seeking protection from the rain that had also started to pour.

After two hours of musical entertainment, the tent area was now packed with a few hundred people. The generals are coming, the generals are coming! First came the dancing band, wearing an array of costumes and playing mostly percussion. Leading the band was a young couple with elegant clothing who I assume to be the King and Queen of Carnival. Behind the band, about a dozen colorfully-clad ¨Generals¨ strode down the hill on their horses. They remained at the front of the tent, behind some metal barriers. It kind of seemed dangerous to us. Imagine one of the horses got freaked out for whatever reason. Stampede, anyone? Luckily that was not the case. Meanwhile the band paraded into the center of the crowd to play their songs. I know they changed the lyrics of some well-known songs to be fun or social commentary, but unfortunately, with all the hubbub I didn't catch much.

Finally, it was time for the Xenerais to do something. When we had arrived to the ten we noticed (and mistook for real) two life-size horses. I thought it was just for decoration. But as the ¨Atrancos¨ got under way, we realized they were being done while on the fake horses. The ¨Atrancos¨ are the closest thing to a rap battle you can find in Galicia. Traditionally they were invented on the spot, but now they are written down and recited with a very marked rhythm, which got in our heads for the rest of the night. The first to participate in the atrancos were kids, not even teenagers. One recites something to the other, brandishing a sword (obviously, they're generals!). The next replies, and they go back and forth for a minute. Again, it was pretty hard to make out what they were saying, but current events in the village seem to be the topic of choice. We heard a few of these pairs having their little spoken duels before we had to go.  Like Cinderella, we had to be home by midnight. So I'm not sure if there was more to the revelry or not. Perhaps only the children perform from the fake horses and then the adults perform from their real horses. But I don't know. That's why I would allow myself to repeat and go back one year, to be able to join the party all night long. Maybe I'd even sign up to ¨march¨ with the Xenerais' morning ¨army.¨

This afternoon I'll be headed to a different Entroido experience, so stay tuned!

Timeliness is Godliness

This past week, not one but two of my students brought up my punctuality, mystified. ¨You always arrive right on the dot!¨ Well, yeah, did you not expect me to? One of them even chalked it up to ¨British punctuality.¨ Uh, I'm American, remember? In my case, I do strive to be on time, and because of this I start classes at very random times rather than at -- o'clock and half past. My schedule includes classes starting at 5:40 or 6:20 because I know that that is how long I need to get there from my previous class.

Despite this recent ¨culture shock¨ by these students, as far as I am concerned after living in Spain/Galicia for a decade, the stereotype of Spanish people being tardy is inaccurate. It is worth pointing out that Galicia is a special corner of Spain, and does not usually bow to Spanish stereotypes. In fact, some people here have told me that ¨That's in the South,¨ referring to their perception of Andalusians' lack of timeliness. Here the few friends who have a reputation for being late are hassled by the rest of the group. So maybe the Northern regions are punctual and the rest of Spain is not.

But more than timeliness, the biggest cultural difference I have found here when it comes to time is how they measure it, especially in social situations. Time spent socializing is limitless. Like during my first few years when local friends would suggest ¨getting a drink¨ which implied being out til 1 or 2 AM. In my book, that was ¨going out,¨ but in theirs, it was a casual evening. Or when with teachers or a hiking group, we just always had to stop to get a coffee together before heading home. I'd just want to get home, but that's not how it was done. My most recent example is what I call ¨Marathon Hang-Outs.¨ We have people over for lunch, and naturally they stay for coffee. But now it's gotten to a point where they stay the whole afternoon and for dinner, too, maybe leaving around midnight or even later. Be it my introverted self talking, or be it my American nature, that to me is just too much time! I feel like Americans would want to get back to their places sooner than that. But such is life in Galicia, at least. When it comes to being with friends, no amount of time is too much.

The Fair of Fairs in Monterroso

The other day I declared San Froilán Galicia's favorite fall festival. (Truth!) Now as far as fairs go, the top pick is once again in the province of Lugo, this time in the town of Monterroso. On November 1st-- a public holiday in Spain for All Saints' Day-- the hordes descend upon this town of 3,000, in search of a plethora of wares. The fair has been a staple for centuries. Its origins date back to over 800 years ago. Not to mention it's been recognized as a Tourist Interest within Galicia for over a decade. That's why they call it A Feira das Feiras, the Fair of Fairs. 

This year I was finally able to check it out. And although I had never been (pre-Covid, that is), it seemed to me that it had made a real comeback. The place was packed! There were cars starting about a mile away from the action in the center of town. They even had cops directing traffic. We ended up parking in a little ¨parish¨ on the outskirts, a 10 minute walk. 

¨3-story¨ stall

Once we got close to the center, the place was buzzing. Everywhere you looked: stands, stalls, people. Throughout the town, the stands were mostly selling clothes, socks, and shoes. One such stand blew my mind: whereas most had one to two rows of tops/pajamas/what-have-you hanging, this place had three rows. It was comparable to a 3-story shopping center amongst 2-story shops (complete with high prices for a fair, in my opinion). And apparently, in these situations with so much competition, haggling is perfectly acceptable. Not for me, though. I asked how much a pair of pants was, since the seller was so eager to see me ¨interested.¨ In the end, I wasn't actually interested. So as I was walking away, he called after me, ¨Chica! Wait! We can make a deal!¨ I honestly wasn't interested, but I'll have to save that technique for next time I actually am, hehe. I did buy a pair of fuzzy socks, but after the other incident, wondered, ´Did I pay too much?´

You may be wondering: And what about food? Inside a circular building made expressly for fair exchanges were the food stands. T'is the season for chestnuts, walnuts, and honey. In Galicia, meat is always in season. Therefore, there were tons of vendors to choose from with their chourizos, salted pork, and even pig faces. A handful of bakeries were there, as well as some stands selling fruits and vegetables. And dried beans. So many options! Clearly we couldn't leave empty-handed. We bought some chourizos, honey, an empanada for lunch, along with corn bread, raisin nut bread, and regular bread. Phew! If I were the octopus-eating kind, we would have sat down at one of several tents selling Galician-style octopus. (Fun fact: the typical style of octopus served in Galicia is actually called á feira, fair-style. Makes sense!)

In a traditional sense, a fair wouldn't be a fair without the animals. We actually just happened upon it, as it was kind of apart from the rest of the hullabaloo. According to someone who has recently studied many laws related to animals and food safety, the sale of live animals in this type of setting is no longer legal. And it was kind of sad to see some chickens cooped up in cages little bigger than themselves. I'm not sure how much dealing was actually going on. It seemed more like people were just there to gawk at the variety of fowls. Ducks, geese, and all sorts of chickens. A few decades ago (or less!) this was the spot for Galicians to come sell their cows. Now, it's just a type of zoo, in addition to all the food and clothes available for sale. 

Spain's Christmas Lottery

When I first came to Spain, I was surprised at how big of a deal the Christmas Lottery seems to be here. All around there were signs in bars boasting ¨We have number 83194 for Christmas Lottery.¨ Months in advance! All sorts of clubs, associations, and places of employment often choose a Christmas lottery number for people to go in on together. At the school where I worked at the beginning of December there was a note in the teachers' lounge to sign up for the school's lottery number. Barely any teachers skipped out on buying the ticket. ¨This is going to be our year!¨ 

I wouldn't mind participating if tickets weren't so expensive. 20€ for a décimo. That translates to tenth, because with that participation you're entitled to one-tenth the prize amount. Obviously, the more numbers you have, the greater your odds. Which is why it's quite common for people to share with friends and family, having people buy numbers from different parts of the country. Someone I know spends around 200€ per year on the Christmas Lotto. And I'm sure he's not alone! 

An example of a losing ticket

There are people who even say the Christmas season starts here with the announcing of the Christmas Lottery numbers. Every year the numbers are announced the morning of December 22nd with pomp and circumstance. In a theater in Madrid, some fanatics wait outside for hours --sometimes dressed in costume--to get to see the number-calling in person. In a way, it reminds me of shoppers camping outside stores for Black Friday. Except instead of amazing deals, these people have their eyes set on thousands of euros. On stage, there are two huge, golden-caged balls. The bigger one has all of the possible number combinations. The smaller one has the prize amounts. The winning numbers are called out --or rather, sung out-- by children from a private school in Madrid. First a student sings the winning number, and the other sings the prize amount. ¨Mil eu-rooos,¨ is the most common. Every once in a while, however, a higher prize amount appears. There is one first prize, one second prize, one third prize, two fourth prizes, and eight fifth prizes worth 4 million, 1.25 million, 500,000, 200,000, and 60,000€ respectively. But of course the prize doesn't go to just one person. For every décimo, one tenth goes to you. So maybe the prize isn't as huge as the multimillion lotteries back home, but it is more distributed since lots more people than just ten can be winners. 

Plus, if your number is one off from any of the winning numbers, you aren't a total loser. One digit up and one digit down also get (a much smaller) prize. And if you have the last two digits of the first three winning numbers, you also get a small amount. Also, all of the numbers within one hundred of the top four prizes get a fractional amount. In addition, any numbers that end in the same number as the first prize get the reintegro, or a refund of what they paid for the ticket. With so many chances to win, I might even be enticed to play next year!

A Visit from the Apalpador

Nowadays, it seems every country has it's own version of Santa Claus. I always appreciated Spain for being different in that regard, since they traditionally receive gifts on 3 Kings Day rather than on Christmas. Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar show up on a camel on the night of January 5th. That evening, in most cities people line the streets to welcome them with a parade. Each king has a float, complete with pages throwing candy to their adoring fans.

But the times they are a-changing, and not purely because of globalization. More and more Spanish families are celebrating with Papá Noel, Santa's Spanish counterpart. Their reasoning is that by giving kids gifts on December 25th, they have weeks of vacation to play with their new toys, compared to the single vacation day for toys received from the Kings. Fair enough.

In Galicia, however, there has been a surge in popularity of a specifically Galician Christmas character: the Apalpador. Apalpador translates to the guy who pats. He's a burly coal maker from the Ancares (or O Caurel), mountains in the eastern part of Lugo province. Once a year, he comes down from the mountains to visit the children of Galicia. He pats their bellies to see if they've been well-fed, and gives them some magic chestnuts to be well-fed and strong all year round. Now, when I first heard the story, it was rather alarming. A strange man rubbing kids' tummies...Call the cops! But now that I've seen the Apalpador in action, it's cute and not creepy.


This year, the Apalpador was spotted in several Galician cities, and even more towns and villages. In Lugo, where he has been going for years, he was greeted by a horde of delighted children. In Pontevedra where he is a relative newcomer, I met him and participated in his walk around town. More and more children must learn about him in school, because quite a few recognized him in the street. Others (like myself originally) were skeptical about this big, bearded man approaching them. But they quickly relaxed when a girl their own age (the Apalpador's unofficial helper) gave them chestnuts.

If in Spain they're going to lose the tradition of the 3 Kings, I hope at least it gets replaced by an original, traditional character like the Apalpador.

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.

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...

Ye Olde Sidra Making

Although in Spain alcoholic apple cider is associated with Asturias or the Basque Country, I spent a weekend with my most Galician friends making it like in the days of yore. It was an exhausting weekend-long affair. And it will take a few months before we are able to taste the fruits of our labors. But this month I've been making alcohol faster than I can drink it (wine harvest earlier this month)!

Friday morning we headed out to my boyfriend's country home. I should add that in Galicia, almost everybody has an ¨aldea,¨ a tiny village their family is from. In some cases their grandparents still live there, but in others the house is empty and used for weekend getaways. (In this case, the latter) Close to our destination, we stopped to pick up the apple equipment. We both got out of the car, but let the cassette keep playing. A few minutes later *click,* the car automatically locked. With the keys in the ignition! Nooooo! It felt like a scene from a movie, with Bob Dylan emanating from inside the locked vehicle. Luckily, a mechanic arrived within an hour. We continued on our way, with some delay.

Climbing trees

To make the sidra, B bought about 200 kg of apples from a neighboring farmer. That was just the beginning! The other guy brought another 200 kg from the trees in his yard. And we spent two hours Friday afternoon collecting more. I bet there were close to 1000 kg! My naivete betrayed me as we went to a neighbor's yard to start picking. They talked about who would climb the tree. I, of course, imagined like at home, one would climb the tree to hand pick the higher apples, while the other two of us would reach what we could from the ground. Wrong. He climbed the tree to shake it with all of his might. Dozens of apples fell down. One hit me, as I didn't realize what was happening, haha. We repeated the process over and over again. So the strain of apple-picking here is in constantly crouching down and bending over. Also in sidra, every apple counts. Bruised apples, cherry-sized apples. All in the sack! Afterwards, of course, we had to lug the giant 20kg bags back to the car. I consider myself strong for my size, but after this weekend I realized I am the weakest link. I'm more suited to 10 kg sacks.

Apples, apples everywhere

After collecting enough apples, we spent the evening cleaning the apples. In the beginning, I was very picky with which apples passed on to the next phase. I tried to cut out a lot of the bruises, but then as the ¨professionals¨ reminded me, even bruised apples are fine for cider. Not to mention the amount of apples we had to go through before the night's end. Another chica came to join the fun. Admittedly, she is stronger than I am. But she lives on a farm! After the sun had gone down, we divided into two teams and started the next phase: grinding. This had a machine, but you couldn't just dump a whole box of apples in it, because it would get stuck. You needed to toss about 8 in at a time, and the machine would spit them out into cut up pieces.There was so much that we moved it with a snow shovel. By the end of the night, our assembly line had washed and cut all but 50kg of apples. Hooray!

To the left: the machine that diced the apples. In the background: apple bits!

Note she is actually sitting on the press

Saturday morning, B ran out to catch the breadman driving by on his rounds. So for breakfast, we had fresh queique. I write the name because the pronunciation is so similar to cake, it can't be a coincidence! Day two was more washing/grinding, but also pressing. For this we used an old fashioned wooden press. In the early stages when the metal bar is loose, we would swing it around to each other merrily, like a game. But then as the lid lowers and comes into contact with apples, it becomes more difficult. Once it got to a certain point, the guys would have to pull it backward slowly, then push it forward to begin again, like rowing. Of course, they were putting a lot of force into it, so to counteract it the other three would hold it down with all of our weight so the press wouldn't go flying. The other chica would even sit on the press. And yet, sometimes it would still tip in the opposite direction. Superhuman strength! All the while we whistled (aka sang in Galician and Spanish) while we worked.

On Saturday we pressed all the apple bits for a first time, and on Sunday we did them all a second time. Every drop counts! Surprisingly, there was more juice to be had. Although, obviously on the second day there was less and it was harder to get out. During each pressing, we had to change the small tub collecting juice at the bottom. That juice went into big metal barrels to ferment. We ended with 360 liters!! And it only took us four people and 56 hours!

Sweet, sweet apple juice!

Winemaking in the Ribeira Sacra

T'is the season to harvest grapes in Galicia! Here the vendimia lasts from mid-September to mid-October, depending on the year's conditions. This year I got in on the action, instead of simply enjoying the fermented fruits of the labor.

First, Galicians and foreigners alike boarded the viñobus and set off to the bodega (winery). The place boasts a stunning view, perched above its vineyards which go down steeply to the Río Sil below. Straddling the provinces of Lugo and Ourense, the Ribeira Sacra really must be the most beautiful wine region in the world. Inside we toured the winery and learned about the wine-making process. We observed workers manually removing twigs and leaves caught up with the grapes, before moving on to a machine which shakes out the small stuff.

After the tour, we got down to business! In pairs we were handed plastic crates and a pair of scissors. Some of the rows of vines were in a flat patch. But others of us opted to harvest grapes the heroic way: climbing down a ways to a steeper row! I partnered up with a French girl. Of course, everyone sampled the grapes we were picking. Delicious! After taking in the view and filling our carton up halfway, we called it quits. And we let the owner carry our carton of grapes up the hill. Hey, we're not getting paid for this!

Next was the winetasting. Our fellow tour members had a lot of questions. And the host didn't actually explain much about the 3 types of wine we were sampling as I had hoped, so my friends and I just zoned out and tasted the wines. One was aged, one was young, and one was organic. In the Ribeira Sacra, almost all of them are young. One year and done! (Whereas the wines in Bordeaux are mostly barrel-aged) My favorite was the organic one.

Astute readers will know that this grand wine tour is missing just one step. Yes, squashing grapes! After the wine tasting (who planned this order?!) some of us took off our socks and shoes and hopped into a big pit of grapes. The feeling was...strange. It was gross, but you got used to it quickly. Squelch squelch. To top off the day, lunch was included. Obviously. Because this is Galicia. Where food and wine always combine! And we left with another super Galician experience under our belts. Who'll join us for a repeat next fall?

Feira do Viño de Chantada

I am going to have to find more Galician traditions if I plan to stick around, because in March I checked another thing off my list of Galician things to do: a wine festival! Surely they have such traditions in other parts of Spain, but since Galicia is known for it's gastronomy and wine regions, this is an essential Galician activity.

Chantada is a big village in Lugo, smack dab in middle of the Ribeira Sacra, a wine region cultivated since Roman times. Buses from Lugo are scarce (public transportation is my biggest solvable complaint about Lugo/Galicia), so my friend and I were set to spend over 8 hours there; arriving before noon and leaving at 7. At first this was daunting, because if we got bored of the town there was no way home early. I brought cards just in case, but in the end that wasn't necessary. For March it was a surprisingly sunny and warm day. Qué suerte! Obviously since we got there in the morning it was too early for wine so we stopped in a café. Afterward, it still felt too early so we strolled the little market stands selling food, clothes, accessories, and typical Galician products. It was bigger than we had imagined, I thought it was just going to be the wine stands and little else. But of course I had to know that the market salespeople would bring their wares to such an occasion!

At the ¨appropriate¨ time for wine (when is that, exactly?) we started by purchasing a wineglass complete with neck strap. At first we looked pretty geeky, but later realized how handy they were! Then with a standing lunch, we started sampling. You could get a glass of red (Mencía) or white (Ribeiro) for 2-3€. About 10 wineries had their stands under the main tent. They weren't normal stands, but giant, hollowed-out barrels. Nice touch! Over the course of the afternoon I have no idea how many wines we sampled. We started with some reds, but then I remembered I don't even really like red, and Galician whites are so delicious. The community band entertained with movie soundtracks and my new friend and I bonded over our first wine fest experience, among other things. We didn't feel the need to befriend other festivalgoers, although everyone was friendly and merry. There was even a free wine judging, where you sampled 20 different brands and voted on them. This started later in the afternoon, and neither of us actually finished. Too many reds. But never too much wine.

Galician Carnival: Peliqueiro and Pantalla Sighting!

Now that it's Good Friday, I think I can properly write about the funnest part of winter: Carnaval/Entroido...40 days after the fact.

On Friday I went out with the girls. This year there was no group costume, unfortunately. I went as Pipi Calzaslargas (re: Pippi Longstockings) and was quite pleased with my outfit. I reused last year's red wig and only needed to buy the long stockings. Budget- and eco-friendly! It was not at all a wild night. I guess we're getting too old for that. Or just too tired. It's ok, I needed to save my energy for more Carnaval fun.

A few days later, with my other friends we went to the towns of Ourense where Carnaval is a big deal: Xinzo de Limia, Laza, and Verín. I accepted my fate once more of not actually getting to see the traditionally-clad revelers, since the schedule didn't include it. Foiled again! But, wait, we actually DID get to see them. Both the peliqueiros of Laza and the pantallas of Xinzo de Limia. OMG! (I swear, my birthday celebrations get continually better).

We started off in Verín, a bit before noon. But it was pretty empty so we headed to Laza. It's a little village that comes to life during Carnaval. They maintain old traditions (whose origins must be intriguing) such as mudslinging, ant throwing, and whacking with bushes, in addition to their local Entroido character: os peliqueiros. We arrived to the small, deserted plaza only to find the remnants of the previous mudfight: mud all over the ground, along with some scattered rags used to sling said mud. There were really only 3 bars in town, which wisely had covered their floors with sawdust. We went into one for some sandwiches and beers to wait for the next festivities. The place was packed, with a lively atmosphere. There was even a bagpiper and singer and a few people danced, squished into the square meter of open space. We also noticed other foreigners there, having a gay old time. Not much of a hidden secret now, is it? But good for you, Galician towns!

After an hour or two, it got less congested as people went outside, so we went down to the plaza to check it out. Around us were plenty of people, but few people were wearing costumes. Most were, however, wearing jumpsuits in preparation for the ants. Some people were even smart enough to duct tape their pants to their legs to avoid getting ants in their pants haha. As we were all waiting around for the action to start, we heard the dongdong of an approaching bell. The peliqueiros!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! People quickly made a path for them, since they run back and forth swinging a stick. Look out! Seriously, if you get in their way they will hit you. Hard. From my side of the path I was able to dodge them every round. Not actually running off was about as dangerous as I get. They did hit my friend though and her mouth bled a bit! That was enough excitement for us, and we left before the ants made an appearance. They were taking forever, anyways. But traditionally they aggravate the ants by putting vinegar on them and then they throw them into the crowd. Then, others walk around with parts of bushes and whack people with them. Although I wish we had gotten to see it, I'm also grateful I didn't have to suffer haha. Also, on the way back to the car, there was a peliqueiro on his own so I got a picture! Aw, yeah! The creepiest part of them I think is their painted on smiles. So they are mercilessly beating someone with a smile on their faces. Maniacal.

At our final stop, Xinzo de Limia, the sun was already setting. There were plenty of people around, this time everyone was dressed up, so we fit in. The pantallas have a totally different vibe. They carry around inflated pig bladders and dance through the street, jingling (smaller bells than the peliqueiros). They don't hit you with the bladders, but smack them together to make a BOOM sound. Also, there were a few little kids dressed as pantallas--adorable! So we enjoyed the fun ambiance and then headed home. But don't think we went to bed. No, no, no! After all it was Entroido!! We had dinner and headed out for a night on the town. After seeing so many costumes in Ourense, Lugo's Carnival was a bit disappointing. I mean, a lot of people were dressed up, but perhaps just as many went without a costume. Lame! We made our own fun though.

This year I also went to Lugo's parade of costumes for the first time. See, even after 3 years there are still Carnival traditions to discover! The costumes were super impressive. I liked that a few of the individual costumes were made from recycled things. And they were all so elaborate. I'm glad we never signed up for the contest without seeing the competition because, madre mía, all of the costumes were so well-done! One group of at least 20 people went as the Lion King. Disney should hire them to go on tour because it was AMAZING! They had all the animals and the costumes were just like in the play. I can't imagine how 2017 will outdo this year's Carnival.

Magostos and Chestnuts Galore

Oh snap! It's been a while since I've written, but the nice part of that is it's because I've been too busy livin' la vida gallega. And since the weather is now cold and the holiday decorations are coming up, I better hurry up and write about Magosto, Galician's autumnal celebration.

A whopper of a chestnut

Magosto is a chestnut-based festa celebrated mostly in Galicia (Spain's #1 chestnut producer), and also other regions of Northern Spain. It's usually held in early November and is a time to gather the community together and have roasted chestnuts. My first two years I didn't really enjoy them, but now I'm a fan. Estoume galeguizando! This year I attended not one, not two, but THREE Magostos!

The first was sponsored by the University´s Galician club: Liga Estudantil Galega, so you know it was legit. Groups of students chatted around a fire where they gave out chestnuts (castañas) roasted in a contraption similar to the metal cages used for bingo. And for snacks/dinner you could buy traditional goods like empanada and chorizo. Then there was the entertainment--a Galician band with tambourines, bagpipes, and drums. What fun! It's about time I learn how to dance like a Galician though!

The second Magosto was in a plaza in the center, sponsored by the bars and some community organizations. Again, they had free chestnuts, and the weather was nice enough to grab a beer and stand outside socializing. A lot of the foreigners took part in this one; always a jolly time.

A day in the life...

My third Magosto was at school, of course. As usual, the teachers had a lunch of chorizos and boiled potatoes beforehand. And despite having a dessert of empanada de manzana (similar to apple pie) with the teachers, I just couldn't resist trying 3 more desserts homemade by my students. It would be rude to deny them since they put them in my hand so enthusiastically! A lot of the castañas were rotten, but no matter. We played traditional games, like tug-of-war, trying to fish wine bottles, and...alcohol-free pong? American import, I guess! Then they played the broom dance, which I still don't get. Couples ¨dance¨ and have to get rid of a broom, but in reality they just end up running around holding hands tossing the broom at other pairs haha. I also got to lead the conga line for a few seconds. Groovy times!