fter seven years of living in Spain it is sometimes easy to forget quite why we are here, particularly as both my wife and I work and our children are still studying full time. So, our daily life in Spain, of course, has the familiar 'head down, backside up' element of most working families around the world. However, just occasionally we are jolted by something so heart warming about Spanish culture that we are reminded about why moving to Spain has been such a success for us.
I mention this because two weeks ago we celebrated the fiesta of San Antonio which had suddenly crept up upon us. In fact, we had forgotten all about it - which was nothing if not careless, given that it occurs every year at the same time!
Be that as it may, late one night, a couple of weeks ago, my wife and I were just finishing a cup of coffee in one of our village's bars when we suddenly heard the crash and thump of fireworks bursting overhead. This was followed by plumes of smoke, showers of sparks and a sheet of flame that seemed to briefly rise dangerously above the houses opposite. If we were not more used to life in Spain then we might have been forgiven for imagining that the Moors had suddenly returned to claim their lost territories.
In fact, of course, any Moors trying to regain their birthright were hardly likely to invade our mountain village and this was quickly confirmed as we rounded the corner of the street opposite our bar. In front of us, laughing and chatting, were many villagers, of all ages (notwithstanding the very late hour), admiring a blazing inferno. In front of them were a couple of trestle tables laden with wine and various nuts.
Naturally, as Britons, the combination of a roaring fire and free booze was as irresistible as high quality pollen in the height of summer to a bee short on his collection targets. So, we headed into the crowd - to eventually learn that this was the start of the fiesta of San Antonio
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