May 11th, 2009
Feria de abril
My señora generously invited my roommate and I to her family’s private caseta, so I got dressed in my bright pink skirt, grabbed my camera, and walked twenty minutes and across a bridge to Los Remedios.
The minute I entered the fair grounds was like taking a brief foray into Sevilla of old. Women and young girls strolled the streets in shockingly bright polka-dotted flamenco dresses with large matching flowers tucked behind the ear. Lavishly decorated horses and carriages paraded through the fair grounds while their riders balanced a glass of rebujito (sherry mixed with Sprite) in their free hand.
One row of casetas
I had to sort of sneak up on the women to snap pictures of their dresses (from behind, unfortunately). Every single dress at feria was ridiculously bright, and I did not see one replica.
The true essence of Feria, however, takes place beneath shady protection of the caseta, where Sevillanos eat tapas, drink copious amounts of rebujito, meet up to chat with family and friends, and dance sevillanas (a traditional flamenco-esque dance that virtually every Sevillano has known since childhood).
When I arrived at my señora’s caseta, I quickly found myself crowded in amongst my señora’s now familiar children, grandchildren, and close friends seated around one of the small tables sharing pitchers of rebujito and plates of tapas. Not leaving the shade of the caseta for hours, we all took shelter from the intense heat well in the 90s (although I swear just two weeks ago we were all shivering from the cold). Much of the attention was focused on the adorably fat eight-month-old baby granddaughter, passed around from person to person and cooed to in Spanish baby talk. In between periodic bouts of clapping to the beat of the rhythmic background flamenco music and some occasional dancing, the caseta was loud with easy conversation and the shouts of young children running through the tent and creating mischief just outside their parents’ view. My señora convinced me to dance the first part of the sevillanas with her even though I was clearly an outsider who had never attended Feria before in my life. As I fumbled my way through the four distinct passes of the dance, onlookers urged me to raise my arms up higher and shouted at me to “spin to the right! To the right!” as I fell over my feet, confused by the unfamiliar beat of the flamenco music. Not surprisingly, I received many sympathetic (but friendly) “oh, well, at least you tried?” glances as I sat back to appreciate my señora’s talented eight-year-old granddaughter’s enthusiastic stomping, twirling, and arm-waving to the music.
My roommate and I in front of our caseta in the "early" evening (11 pm). Someone holds out a glass of rebujito (of course)
This wonderfully intimate snapshot of Spanish cultural tradition seemed a marvel in a world where the modern wonders of the cell phone, Internet, and television have regretfully replaced many real, face-to-face social interactions. Though I did see some people chatting on cell phones around Feria (certainly a jarring sight amidst the horses and colorful flamenco dresses), modern technology still remained largely frozen outside the festive world of Feria as people stayed for hours (literally until 6 a.m.) passing the time with family and friends. Now I know where Sevilla gets its “party” reputation from…
But at the end of the day, I still wonder: when do the babies get their nap-time??