And so autumn begins
In many villages there is a summer feria, a fiesta that lasts for days that involves dancing, music, performance, and drinking.
And in Pruna this fiesta, a Flamenco Fiesta, is the last week of August. Supposedly only a weekend affair, it actually started on the Tuesday, when, among other things, the open air swimming pool stayed open till 2am with lifeguards and music.
Wednesday was pe-pre-fiesta partying and drinks and music in several bars.
On Thursday the pre-fiesta vibe was reaching the kind of excitement a child feels on Christmas Eve. All the bars were filling, the fun fair was full blast, out of town vendors were selling outrageously exotic cuisine, such as burgers, kebabs, and waffles.
On Friday the flamenco performances, of guitar, music, and dance started and continued for three whole evenings and nights. All gratis!!. (Daytime was weirdly silent, spent recovering). Monday morning and the windows are still rattling with the music at 4am, and then, silence. On this Monday all the shops will be closed, this is the day of Cansado, the complete exhaustion of partying for too long.
And so, tired, both physically and financially broken, dehydrated and hung-over, Pruna does not glide into autumn head held high, smiling benignly at the children and old folks. No,it crawls into Autumn, dry heaving, eyes squinting against the sun, head throbbing.
September is a recuperating, and introspective, month.
The children go back to school in September, no more sleeping late, idle breakfasts, late siestas, then playing in the streets until it is cool enough to go indoors. No, now they have to wake early, still bleary eyed, and walk begrudgingly to school.
And many of the bars and restaurants, having worked for one week solid, (often 18 or more hours a day, no siesta), close for a couple of weeks to recuperate, or even to holiday in Palma or Teneriffe.
It is still hot and the days only draw slowly in. The council has no exercise classes for adults or other activities. For me it is a month of quiet reflection, long walks and lazy afternoons. The crops are in, the melons are cheap, the sky is couldless, we are all preparing for a long autumn and the winter that will follow.
And then October arrives, and all the bars and restaurants repen, another months wages have arrived to make up for the previous months extravagance of the families eating together in the restaurants, adults drinking at the flamenco performances, kids clutching tokens at the fun fair. At last there is money in the pockets again.
The school run becomes more organised, the feet drag less, the spirit lifts.
And now the dance classes start, flamenco, bachata, salsa, and zumba, the notices are all over the village. There is a lot of exterior decorating going on, skips outside houses as the houses get improvements now that the temperature has dropped.
Usually there are two more good and sunny months to look forward to, and I stride out in t-shirt and shorts, but already the local Spanish are wearing jumpers, and by early December, when I am beginning to think of putting a cardigan on they will be in quilted coats with scarves around their neck.
Amo el otoño