Beer: Cruzcampo 5%
Back in very localest bar – hemmed in by the crowds. It’s quieter (in the bar) than yesterday. The bar still has some Christmas decorations up… I notice this while being roundly ignored, waiting to be served. My petulant bar-rage protestations are vocal enough to warrant a telling off from Steph… and I’m eventually served.
Back in very localest bar – hemmed in by the crowds. It’s quieter (in the bar) than yesterday. The bar still has some Christmas decorations up… I notice this while being roundly ignored, waiting to be served. My petulant bar-rage protestations are vocal enough to warrant a telling off from Steph… and I’m eventually served.
Our beer tonight is served in beer, rather than wine, glasses.
Back at the apartment, the processions tonight, leading into Good Friday, are spectacular.
There’s been a horrible nagging worry throughout (given recent events at home) that the festival could be open to terrorist attack. The Silencio procession passes through at around 4am Friday morning. Most processions include one or two bands but, because this one is so quiet, it is quite eerie. At some point as it passes through, a wave of panic grips the crowd. Steph watches from our balcony vantage point overlooking Calle Cuna as public and penitents flee. I’m on the sofa watching telly at that point - and just hear the stampede. It’s a horribly scary sound. It rolls through quickly – gradually followed by (hushed) reassurances that things are fine… and the parade continues. There are a couple of similar disturbances afterwards – each subsequent time lessening in intensity.
We glean, from later reports on the internet, that there were false rumours of cars running down pedestrians – of fights causing panic, and kids deliberately making sudden noises to scare the crowd.
We’ve seen all the parades pass from the second floor, but go down at about 6am to watch the Macarena procession pass by at ground level. It’s spectacular; we’re almost asphyxiated with incense, but air is just as thick with lingering fear of what’s happened (and equally what didn’t/what might’ve) earlier. Folk seem jumpy, but the procession passes by peacefully.
Back at the apartment, the processions tonight, leading into Good Friday, are spectacular.
There’s been a horrible nagging worry throughout (given recent events at home) that the festival could be open to terrorist attack. The Silencio procession passes through at around 4am Friday morning. Most processions include one or two bands but, because this one is so quiet, it is quite eerie. At some point as it passes through, a wave of panic grips the crowd. Steph watches from our balcony vantage point overlooking Calle Cuna as public and penitents flee. I’m on the sofa watching telly at that point - and just hear the stampede. It’s a horribly scary sound. It rolls through quickly – gradually followed by (hushed) reassurances that things are fine… and the parade continues. There are a couple of similar disturbances afterwards – each subsequent time lessening in intensity.
We glean, from later reports on the internet, that there were false rumours of cars running down pedestrians – of fights causing panic, and kids deliberately making sudden noises to scare the crowd.
We’ve seen all the parades pass from the second floor, but go down at about 6am to watch the Macarena procession pass by at ground level. It’s spectacular; we’re almost asphyxiated with incense, but air is just as thick with lingering fear of what’s happened (and equally what didn’t/what might’ve) earlier. Folk seem jumpy, but the procession passes by peacefully.
No comments:
Post a Comment