Tales of the Lecrin Valley

A personal view of life in an andalusian village.

It seems like just a few months ago that I was writing about the Romeria de la Virgen del Cerro, but it is May again and around it came.  It was a little quieter this year, maybe because of the crisis, maybe because the majority of the valley, us included, were at a wedding the night before until the very late early hours, or maybe because because of mobile phones.  It used to be that the local maidens and swains would only get the chance to meet socially at fiestas, but now with the onslaught by Vodafone and the like, it is much easier to meet, or at least chat to, prosective spouses than it ever was in the past.  Certainly the youngsters all seemed to be wandering around holding mobiles and looking shy and coy.  Some of the kids were dressed in the traditional style and were strutting their stuff. Lack-a-day, can´t stop progress, if it is progress.  All was as normal this year.  We set up our table early and waited for the Virgen to arrive on the shoulders of four very tired men who had lugged her up the hill to Calvary.  The horses were all there and Juan asked the office if we would like to go riding tomorrow, which we will.  We drank lots of cider on the Asturiano table and ate more than was good for us and as we were all tired we had a siesta and wended our weary way home.  Nothing untoward happened, the paella was as delicious as usual, the two metre dish being heated by a wood fire and the paella stirred with rowing boat paddles.  The cider was poured Asturiano style by Lidia, in spite of the prevailing winds, the beer flowed steadily into the ceramic commemorative pots and the singers sang, the dancers danced and the guitarists guitarred.

Lidia the escanciadora

Lidia the escanciadora

The Mayor at the Viasur table

The Mayor at the Viasur table

Tiring work carrying virgins

Tiring work carrying virgins

The Virgin in her chapel

The Virgin in her chapel

Dressed to kill

Dressed to kill