The center of the action for Corpus Christi week was at the fairgrounds on the edge of town, and David and I finally ventured out on Saturday night. From the moment we caught the special "autobus ferial" that would take us out to the fairgrounds, I knew we were in for a treat.
We boarded the crowded bus along with a collection of amped-up teenagers and older women in flamenco dresses. A stop or two later, a wedding party—yes, bridal gown and all—got on and began leading the bus in chants of "Long live the bride!... Long live the groom!... Long live the bus driver! ..." (you get the picture) and a rendition of Spain's entry in the Eurovision Song Contest, "Baila el Chiki-chiki."
The scene at the entrance to fairground was amazing. Thousands of colored light bulbs illuminated an enormous arched and columned portico that was like part of a mini electrified Alhambra, and more lights stretched above a long promenade crowded with fairgoers. I saw rows of food vendors and a ferris wheel spinning in the distance, and suddenly realized that we stood in the midst of what was essentially a good old-fashioned county fair. This thrilled me to no end and we immediately embarked on a quest to eat greasy fair food and hop on a ride.
Mission accomplished on both counts. Our culinary journey began with my favorite part of the fair: a stall serving a chilled sweet wine. The wine, which was served in a little cup with a pirouette cookie, was actually quite good, but the best part of the experience was the display behind the counter. Above a large silver basin with spouts from which the servers poured the wine was a bounty of plastic grape clusters, and upon these marched a pair of life-sized automatons dressed like, I dunno, Spanish gypsy grape stompers? It was a marvel.
Next, with just one food stop, we were able to consume an entire evening's worth of grease. We ordered croquetas—breaded croquettes of shredded chicken—which came with fries. Both items had been cooked earlier, and to reheat them, our server threw them back in the fryer for a bit. Yum.
Fortified with syrupy wine and the bounty from the deep fryer, we were ready to hop on the giant ferris wheel, which turned out to be the fastest-moving ferris wheel we'd ever ridden. We somehow managed not to hurl—a Corpus Christi miracle!—and enjoyed the views of the fairground. The rides included all the usual suspects—roller coasters, log ride, bumper cars, a variety of spinning contraptions—plus a few that safety laws would never permit on an American fairground, which basically involved flinging kids against meagerly padded bolsters.
Unlike the fairs we have at home, the central focus here was on the casetas—rows and rows of large stalls providing food/drink and entertainment. Most casetas are owned by families or organizations and are private, but during the day some open to the public and offer free tastings of a particular dish like tortilla or gazapacho. There's an award given for the coziest caseta, so the owners gussy up their spaces with wood furniture, flowers, paintings and nick-knacks. Although they're mostly closed to the public (the ritzier ones even have bouncers!), the casetas are open in the front, so we were able to stop and watch the musicians, dancers and drunken goings-on inside.
After midnight, a transition began: the family casetas began to wind down, while vast crowds appeared at the nightclub casetas, which were open to the public. David and I swung around a corner and found ourselves strolling past caseta after caseta with blasting music—rock, techno, reggaetón, you name it—and long lines of kids around the age of 20 waiting to get in. We were also treated to a slice of Spanish culture we'd yet to see. Lots of girls in short-shorts with tan-colored pantyhose and sandals. Hairstyles and makeup that looked like a cross between Amy Winehouse and the worst of my high-school yearbook (Hendersonville, Tenn., class of '88). It was truly fascinating; we actually just stood and gawked for a while.
By 1 a.m., David, who had to work at 8 the next morning, was ready for bed, so we made our way back El Hornillo, quite satisfied with our county-fair experience. As the wedding party on the bus proclaimed, "Viva El Corpus!"
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