My Sunday here wasn’t particularly nice this time. That wasn’t due to the horror than blue sky (I really can’t complain about too little sunlight here) and it’s not because every Sunday at 9.30 a.m. the whole slumbering village is rung out of bed for a service – so it’s also the bell for them It’s impossible to stay in bed for an hour longer than usual, who doesn’t set foot in the church anyway. The good on fermented days is, which is usually based on an even better night.
In fact, this weekend has proven enough to me that there is no need for a big city, clubs, nor expensive cocktails, nor boasting DJs to good party to organize and celebrate up to the dolls – my feet are still sore from dancing on the village square. At the end of August and early September there seems to be a lot to celebrate along the coast. Hardly a weekend when not just any village organizes its Fiesta Mayor and not only attracts its inhabitants from the houses with a colorful program, but also visitors to the alleys. My first village festival night was long overdue. So on Saturday evening I let myself be carried along to the village square of Torroella de Fluvià. For the whole day, the otherwise sleepy little town looked like a humming bee nest – bar tables were dragged, the stage was carved together, boxes were placed. Even I had the feeling that the anticipation would rub off a bit on me, even if it only lured us in front of the stage after darkness fell, when the announcement for the band was just running.
The atmosphere that hit me at the moment was quite an amusing and absurd one, but therefore an incredibly sympathetic one. Children jumped around between their drinking parents like fleas, visibly euphoric, allowing them to stay up for so long. The youth of the village had already gotten the best seats in front of the stage and buried their hands on the last cigarette or deep in their pockets, the older residents seemed to leave the party to the younger ones and had smiling faces on the folding chairs that lined the square Withdrawn.Short: It was probably the most colorful audience I’ve ever mixed with at a party – when I think about the fact that in Berlin you’re being turned away with the wrong shoes at the door and my grandmother would somehow seem out of place there. There was plenty of beer and made of plastic cups, served by the mayor himself, who was in a specially Fiesta Mayor Designed Neon – T-shirt and took each order as an opportunity to raise his own glass to toast.
As good as the mood was at this point – it was The band 7D Rock, which at the end awakened the village’s fury of the dance. Neither rain nor the late hour seemed to have an influence on the untroubled good mood that they sprayed with their costumes and loud basses, a quarter of an hour later there was probably no foot that did not rock at least in time.
I can’t remember exactly when I went home – my waking up the next day suggests that it ended a little later than planned, although I have no doubt that the music has filled the streets by dawn. What made it clear to me again this night is that the love of the boisterous celebration seems to be a basic need of all people and that it doesn’t need a specific place to celebrate it. It’s a good thing that there are still a number of weekends to meet this need.
The band, by the way, is still in the region, which is very, very worth seeing, and we’re still playing a feast or two:
08/31/13 Aitona // 07.09.13 Guissona // 10.09.13 Viladrau // 14.09.13 Vilafant // 29.09.13 llida
