We met a friend last night who had just spent a few nights in Granada, one of the few places she had been able to visit in Spain. She was staying in a cheap hostel (21 euros a night! In 2010!) overlooking a typical Granadan Plaza, with an old church at one end. At midnight she turned off the lights and lay in bed waiting for sleep, exhausted after a day of sightseeing, when suddenly, she heard the distant sound of drums.
As the drumming got louder and louder, she got up, opened her shutters, and went out onto her small terrace overlooking the Plaza. Suddenly an entire troupe of drummers and trumpeters processed slowly around the corner into the Plaza, followed by ladies in full festive Andaluz regalia, and lastly, at the end of the procession, a vast, ornate wooden float with Maria on top, shouldered by a couple of dozen men underneath.
They marched slowly into the square and up to the church where the festivities continued into the night.
“It was like a dream”, she said, “like a film… right there at my feet.”
More often than not I’ve found these very special experiences of Spain happen in Andalucia, but we’ve stumbled across equally fantastic fiestas in La Rioja and Galicia, and there is something uniquely captivating about the way these things suddenly come upon you in Spain.
Have you ever experienced a ‘sudden magic of Spain’ moment?
Ray
30 Jun 10 at 8:57 pm
Every once in a while I’ll be watching a familiar TV show or movie that has been dubbed over in Spanish, and I’ll notice a line or a joke that’s been translated, either by art or by necessity, into something quite superior than in its original English.
I should write them down, as I cannot remember any right now, just the secret joy I’ve gotten from them.
One of the first times I had a meal with a Spanish family, I remember being extremely apprehensive, as I am a finicky eater, even back in the States, but even more so here, especially since the father of the family had mentioned that they would be making a recipe that had been in his family for centuries. I wasn’t just relieved when it turned out to be indistinguishable from my grandmother’s potato-and-carrot-pot-roast, but it was also a nice learning experience as we talked about the preconceptions that a lot of southern Californians have about what the food might be like that Spaniards eat.
Ben Curtis
2 Jul 10 at 12:29 pm
I tend to hear these things in the park, and always think ‘I have to tell our Notes in Spanish newsletter subscribers about that’ – then find I have nothing to write them down with!
Ray
2 Jul 10 at 4:53 pm
I guess since most of us have cellphones with voice-memo capabilities, we “should” be able to get by without taking notes on paper, but for some reason, it still rarely occurs to me, either
LC
2 Jul 10 at 11:51 am
Sometimes it’s the simplest of things. I was in Huelva for the month of April of this year, part of the time in the capital (Huelva) and part of the time in La Sierra de Aracena. Las marismas del Odiel near Huelva (the capital) are filled with flocks of flamingoes, with cormorants and spoonbills. It’s a protected area and as such, mostly restricted, but not entirely so. The birds, the sun, the wind, the light, it’s magic. In la sierra de Aracena an hour or so to the north, the pueblos themselves are magic. Two things come to mind, although it’s impossible to quantify a FEELING or describe it in words. That said, once while walking in the hills, I became unsure of the way. I already knew that there was going to be a funeral that day in Galaroza where I was staying and which was my destination at the moment. Not knowing if I was walking in the right direction, I suddenly heard, floating on the wind, the double dong-dong, dong-dong that marked a death; the church bells of Galaroza rang for a full 45 minutes. The contrast of the quiet of the hills and the sounding of the bells carried on the wind was magic. I followed them home. The other bit of magic was that when coming down from the higher muountain trails, it’s quiet, it’s tranquil, it’s peaceful, the air is hot and still and it seems like the land is sleeping, but when you come down closer to the hidden farms, you hear the tock-tock-tock-tock of the bells that are hung around of the necks of the sheep and goats. They sound like wind chimes. Magic lives and breathes in Huelva. Huelva is magic. Pero mi consejo es si no tienes un nivel de español intermedio o más, lleva alguien contigo que lo tiene porque no hay nadie que habla inglés por ahí y el acento andaluz en la sierra plena es formidable. Mi corazón vive en Huelva, el corazón del corazón de mágica. Huelva, te amo.
Ben Curtis
2 Jul 10 at 12:29 pm
Yes, the Sierra de Aracena is truly amazing, especially in spring. I love Alomonaster la Real, but don’t know many more corners yet…
LC
5 Jul 10 at 12:09 am
The entire region is nothing but hidden corners of magic. You should try to return if you have the opportunity. If not for the cars and satelite dishes, you could easily believe that you were still in the 19th century. I saw an older gentleman tilling his patch of land with a scythe from (I swear) the middle ages. Burros and mules are still used as beasts of burden. I spent a lot of time walking the mountain trails between the pueblos because it was the mountains that called me, but that said, if you have the opportunity, see el pueblo de Castaño del Robledo. It’s truly beautiful. Because the region is so mountainous and because the pueblos are nestled in valleys and perched on the sides of mountains, the streets (usually paved with stones) are pitched at extremely steep angles. Nevertheless, I saw people in their 60′s and 70′s plodding up the streets. They did it very slowly, but they did it without complaint. It was humbling and served to remind me that some people complain when there’s no reason to complain, and many people don’t complain when some might say they’ve earned the right. The people, the pueblos and the land of la sierra de Aracena hold a very seductive magic.
Ben Curtis
5 Jul 10 at 9:08 am
Thanks LC, I definitely hope to check out Castaño del Robledo some time!
Jamie
5 Jul 10 at 12:32 pm
Several times I’ve run into processions like that and it’s always been amazing – they’re pretty amazing anyway, but when they’re unexpected even more so. The last time was earlier this year in madrid before semana santa we were just walking to a bar and then hit a procession with a marching band and people with the black pointed hoods, etc.
The other thing that comes to mind is when I walked with my girlfriend from cabo de gata to san jose along the coast. We’d left late and without a map and the taxi driver who dropped us at the cabo was sceptical about the whole idea. Then there were a couple of forks where the paths weren’t really marked and it was hot and we were worrying about it getting dark and walking up hills which we weren’t sure we were supposed to be going up and getting increasingly stressed and then we turned a corner and ran into a big herd of goats in the middle of the path. They sort of casually wandered around us and then carried on up the hillside. It was incredible, definitely a magical moment and totally changed the mood.
Ben Curtis
6 Jul 10 at 8:47 am
That’s a great story – clearly you did find your way back to civilisation in the end! I love the Cabo de Gata – I remember picking up stones there and finding scorpions underneath!
jambro
6 Jul 10 at 5:27 pm
One very early morning in Santiago de Compostela, me and my friend were wandering about a small plaza looking for coffee when out of nowhere we encountered young men and women dressed in their traditional Galician costumes. They looked absolutely beautiful! In a matter of minutes we hear the sound of gaitas(local bagpipes) all over the place. As we turned around we realized that everyone were in their local garbs and were getting ready for a grand parade around the old town. It was “El dia de Galicia”! We rushed back to our hotel for the cameras! That to me was one of the many magical moments of Spain.