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Avila
A beautiful walled pueblo. A solo trip to a nearby pueblo was just what I needed on the last day of my four day weekend. At the Atocha Renfe station, a nice man recommended Avila. I hopped on a train and set off. When I arrived in Avila, I was, at first, disappointed. The
pueblo was quiet and lifeless. All of the town, save a cafe or two, was completely vacant. Where were all of the Avilanos?
I decided to take a walk near the
Muralla, the old wall that fortressed the city in days of old. I was surprised at how closely the villagers live to the historic wall. Just feet away from the wall are
casas full of life. Children playing, laundry hanging. Ahead of me I saw a woman walking two
perritos. I approached slowly, not knowing if they were friendly, but the dogs ran up to my feet fearlessly and demanded to be adored.
"Hola, guapas," I said, secretly hoping that a conversation with the canines might initiate a conversation with their primate companion. Rosalia introduced herself and asked my name. She wanted to know where I was from. I asked why Avila was a ghost town today, and she
Don't ask why
Even a seemingly predictable pueblo like Avila holds unpredictable surprises. explained,
"Hoy es la fiesta de San Segundo. The whole town is at the
iglesia paying their respects to San Segundo, the patron saint of Avila." She told me about the fiesta. The food, the traditions, the music. She suggested I go and visit the saint, myself, and instructed me on proper saint-visitation protocol. We talked for a while about Spain and Madrid and small town life. About travel and fiestas and culture. About the EEUU, and my city. We exchanged farewell besos like good friends would, I patted the dogs farewell, and I strolled downhill towards the fiesta.
When I arrived, there was a decent line into the
iglesia. I stood in line with the villagers, and no one seemed to mind that I was there. Two older women behind me were bickering about whether or not it was necessary to stand in line.
"Mira," one friend said to the other, "
those people going into the church without standing in line." The other woman tried to explain to her, "They're just going into the church. If you want to visit San Segundo, you have to stand in line." The first woman wouldn't give up, and finally left her
San Segundo
One of my three wishes was that this photo would come out well. I'm not telling what my other two wishes were.... place in line to try to sneak in the other entrance. The more patient of the two friends shook her head and shared a chuckle with me. "She never understands how things are done," she explained kindheartedly.
When finally I entered the small
iglesia, I could see the statue to San Segundo to my right. The villagers were taking turns kneeling at his back, closing their eyes for a moment, then getting up and moving past him. Soon it was my turn. Just as Rosalia had instructed, I knelt near the back of the statue, placed a
panuelo over a hole in the alabaster, inserted my tissue-swathed hand into the hole and touched the saintly sepulchur. As the villagers had done, I closed my eyes and asked San Segundo for three favors. Then I pulled out my hand, dropped my tissue, and retired into the small
iglesia. I stayed a while watching the villagers sitting silently in prayer. I wondered what favors each of them had asked of their saint. I was certain they had asked for things that would bring them Health, Happiness, Friendship, Love, and Peace. Really, what else is there to ask for? I had to
La fiesta
The villagers of Avila conclude that despite our differences, we all basically want the same things. It makes good sense to gather together one day of the year to meditate optimistically on the possibilities life holds for us.
Feliz Dia de San Segundo. I donated .50 euros to the saint, lighting a candle (well, an electric one, at least) in his name. Then I went out into the courtyard where local oboeists and guitarists played lively music. I ate the traditional Avila treat of
almendras garrapinadas, almonds coated in something sticky and brown and sweet, and hand roasted before my eyes. I watched the children eat ice cream on the church's lawn. I watched the old men sit on a low stone wall next to the
Rio Adajo, leaning on their canes, remembering fiestas and wishes from years past. I watched the young couples share cones of
almendras, laughing in the warm spring air.
After enjoying the people of Avila and their fiesta, I took a final stroll on the
Muralla, (Rosalia had told me where I could go to mount it). From the
Muralla, I found lovely views of Avila, rooftops, and storks sitting in their nests.
As dusk fell,
Almendras Garrapinadas
The whole square smelled warm and nutty. I had to start walking back to my train. The
Muralla took on a golden glow, and my shadow grew longer as I walked. I walked slowly and contentedly, reflecting on my day in the village of Avila. It was dark when I arrived at the train station. I looked back at Avila before I mounted the train and saw the
fuega the sky; the villagers were lighting fireworks in honor of San Segundo, in hopes that all of our collective wishes and desires would come true.
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sauceemary
non-member comment
So chic!
Michelle, keep the entries coming. I think that when you leave for home, I will feel like I'm leaving Spain as well. Sigh. You are looking so euro-fabulous and chic. Glad to see you're rocking the long necklace.