The Spanish like to eat drink and dance. This is something we are learning. As the village decamped to the ‘campo’ for a weekend of partying, we thought we’d nip down to show our faces and then come back again.
Wrong.
Before we’d even parked the van people were hanging out of their tents waving beer bottle and (worryingly) sausages at us. By the time we’d parked the van we found ourselves in the first tent armed with beer and refusing jamon, lomo, cepia (cuttle fish)…… The message that I am a vegetarian is a difficult one to communicate. I was offered cepia as it is not meat.
We then got taken up to the top to another tent, and then on to another to share in ‘lunch’ (we’d already had lunched and plenty of snacks). We then took Basil back as he was with us and come back for the party proper. By this time the wine was flowing, but strangely where Ian was given wine (which he had to drink from a leather pouch by pouring it from the flask into his mouth), I was given cococola and a carrot. I was shown how to eat the carrot.
I can’t remember how many tents we visited. I don’t know how it works but every family group seems to have a large tent or marquee, where they spend no time as they are visiting people inother tents. The tables are straining with food, and most of these tents had proper beer pumps. I must admit, I always thought that I might not be good at many things, but two which I fair well at are picnicing and partying. I realise now I am sadly deluded. At two o’clock in the morning the village young and old alike were dancing away to a band. I really mean young and old, there were the ladies in black with their shawls, and young children in prams.
I think that this was all something to do with a saint, and there was a saint in a chapel, but I must admit that the poor old saint wasn’t getting a look in as the partying went on. It was not unlike glastonbury, as people were sat round campfires in the night.
On the Sunday morning, we were woken by sounds of the village loading up their cars again, and indeed, buy 12.00 the village was once more empty. We had made some houmous and an aubergine dip as I thought we’d go back to one of the tents where we had eaten and offer this as our contribution. This time we did not get fuerther than the Mayors tent, where we were bought in for lunch. ‘No’ is not a word that is understood, and again, we were offered food drink… Ian had paella and they bought me some paella without the meat (but with fish) so I had to decline and was given a plate of lettuce. This so far has been the most difficult thing to communicate. Drink wise – yesterday the drink of choice appeared to be sherry and lemonade which is served with fresh mint and icecubes. When your ice has melted you are supposed to throw your drink away. The drinks are constantly circulating so it is important to throw it away, otherwise the potential for dancing on the state is quite high (it’s ok, he didn’t).
We are learning that the Spanish are very proud of their food and drink – we are constantly told that this or that is ‘de la terra’ of this land. The pouch that Ian was drinking the wine out of was proudly shown as having the Extremadura flag on it, and the jamon isn’t even just of this land – it is of the village. Even the younger fraternity will tell us that what they are offereing is local. They are also very proud of their paella pans. I am quite good now at making an interested face.
As the afternoon band started and the dancing started again, we had to throwin the towel. We had an early night only to be woken at 11.30 by a convoy of cars returning to the village. This morning is a ‘holiday’ and much unpacking of cars etc is being done.
We made lots of new friends, including lots of children who are very amused by the fact we cannot roll our ‘r’s. There were lots of faces we didn’t recognise including a few young people, and appreantly these are people who live and work away who come home for the ‘romeria’ (which I think means weekend party in the country). We also have invited someone round for tea tonight. He is the son of someone in the village and works in Madrid and speaks very good english (hoorah), he is going to help us with our spanish. We were also very grateful yesterday to one of the butchers in the village and his wife who took the time to talk to us slowly and to repeat the words in spanish that we get wrong. They were the best communicators so far, and I popped into their shop to thank them this morning as we felt that we learnt a lot yesterday.