Looking for a Fiesta

18 January, 14

Susan got a wild hair up her butt and wanted to find a local fiesta. After a little Internet scouting, she found two that were in roughly the same area, near Caravaca de la Cruz, which literally means "cow face on the cross". You can't make this stuff up.

We juiced up the Micra and headed out for an adventure. After about an hour, we got out into the boonies. I mean out there, like they could have filmed the moon landings and NOBODY would know. We finally got to the first town, and started looking for the big party. And looking. And looking. Nothing but old NASA trailers.

Susan swears she saw at least five or six people around one corner, but we could not independently verify this information. After driving all the way through town, which took at least 15 seconds, the family reached a consensus that turning around and going back could invite some guy to start playing a banjo. I was in no mood to start squealing like a pig.

We got out of that fiesta-less armpit of Murcia and struck out in search of the second town on Susan's list. Along the way we saw a field full of sticks. They looked almost ready to harvest. I am not joking. They were all in rows, standing up like so many brooms-to-be. We were in the Sticks.

Who knew? We also found an old rusted out swing set that carried the child/victim out over the road, and a rope swing for dummies. With so much entertainment in one place, I started to understand why nobody ever leaves. How could your life ever get better? What would they do, if they knew about electricity and running water? The Internet would be pure magic, for which I am sure they would happily sacrifice a bundle of those fine sticks that were out growing in the field, to use as kindling at the witch burning. Nothing creates a festive atmosphere more than a good fire.

We did finally come across another town that was obviously in fiesta mode. They had a bouncy house and a six foot folding table full of knick knacks. The entire town showed up. Of course we did not even attempt to count, but a conservative estimate put the crowd well over 10 people, and one lady appeared to have all of her teeth. Again I didn't count, but she was holding them in both hands.

Of course, we arrived at the festivities too late to partake in any of the fiesta food, which undoubtedly consisted of some goat blood concoction over rice. Madre mia! We found the only bar in town. What do you get when you have two Spaniards in town? A bar and futbol club. They recruit the players from other countries. We ate some pretty decent lomo de la plancha, which is grilled pork tenderloin on little toasted bread.

After a gratifying round of fiestas, we took the road less traveled and ended up in the middle of a field. Turn around, you say? HECK NO! We're in this for the adventure. Soldier on. After about ten minutes of driving through the lunar landscape, we got back on the hard track, heading to points unknown.

This "road" is called "Old House Street". See if you can figure out why.

We finally got to a decent sized town, called Cehegin, which evidently means,  "Empty". Either we just missed the zombie invasion or Jesus came back, and we were not on His "A" List. We drove through block after block. Shuttered storefronts, closed homes and empty streets painted a pretty bleak scene, so we drove on to yet another town, called Bullas. Now this town is pretty important, but not for any particular Spanish thing. The "u" is always long in Spanish, like "oo". When you see the "ll" in Spanish, it is pronounced as "yuh".  We entered the town and saw some semblance of life, including more than 10 people. We were so excited at once again arriving safely in some vestige of humanity, that we all said in unrehearsed unison, "BOO-YAH!" You just never know where these words begin.

Modern transportation for the handicapped.

While we didn't find anything approximating a fiesta, we did discover that we had a lot to celebrate as a family. A fancy smart-box with a plethora of apps is not required for us to have fun. Sometimes all we need to do is get lost, in order to find ourselves. Score one for Susan and Spanish fiestas. Ole!