So we went to the dance in the village square on Saturday night. We got there about 11.30 to find just the band and the bar staff. They had no vodka - just beer, gin and soft drinks. Maggie was saved by supplies of red wine from a pal's house. Everyone else turned up sometime after midnight. When we left around 2am the band were still singing and the good folk of Culebrón were still dancing.
Not exactly the height of sophistication nor the most exciting event ever but a lovely warm evening, whole families out in the square. Nice.
Sunday we missed the hot chocolate and cake but we were back in time to see a couple of those religious figures, carried on the backs of the villagers, paraded through the street followed by a brass band and the town's dignitaries. The band even played the National Anthem and they made a weak attempt at that ¡VIVA! call and response. Then there were the folk dancers in the square and a snacklet to finish it all off.
All weekend we were greeted by English and Spanish chums alike. Our Spanish failed at times but the good humour never did.
Jolly good.
The ramblings of an old, fat, red nosed, white haired Briton about the things he notices around him in Spain.
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