Was I really just in Dublin earlier this month, because yesterday it felt like I was on the Oregon Trail, destination the Wild West. A few weeks ago I learned that hueco means space, like a little gap between one thing and another, or just un espacio. What I saw at El Rocio yesterday was more than a hueco, it was like a different place and time. I wondered if the caravans of manifest destiny had similar pitstops along their journey, stopping to eat, drink and be merry while dancing, singing, and chatting it up. I guess keeping in high spirits would have helped them forget about the dust blowing in their faces and the indefinitely long journey that remained.
To sum it up would be impossible. El Rocio es muy propio. Like all its own, an event in and of itself. A different epoca that you witness, and although you too are dressed up while watching, you can't help but to stand back and think, where am I? Amidst the convivencia, people are so excited that this time of year has finally arrived. They're eager to get to El Rocio, the home of the Virgin of devotion, and stay in their houses, or their friends' houses. I don't know how many new sevillanas I learned. Prior to the camino, I was just working with "Carmela borda en mi vela" but now I have love song sung through the metaphor of "un trigo y un limon" and another about the virgin, plus a handful of others I haven't completely memorized.
All in all, an interesting experience, even if it did involve bumping along dirt roads in the back of a truck to get there. Don't let anyone tell you riding in a small remolque is okay. It's hellish! But tolerable in short distances and with lots of singing and other merriment.
Was I really just in Dublin earlier this month, because yesterday it felt like I was on the Oregon Trail, destination the Wild West. A few weeks ago I learned that hueco means space, like a little gap between one thing and another, or just un espacio. What I saw at El Rocio yesterday was more than a hueco, it was like a different place and time. I wondered if the caravans of manifest destiny had similar pitstops along their journey, stopping to eat, drink and be merry while dancing, singing, and chatting it up. I guess keeping in high spirits would have helped them forget about the dust blowing in their faces and the indefinitely long journey that remained.
To sum it up would be impossible. El Rocio es muy propio. Like all its own, an event in and of itself. A different epoca that you witness, and although you too are dressed up while watching, you can't help but to stand back and think, where am I? Amidst the convivencia, people are so excited that this time of year has finally arrived. They're eager to get to El Rocio, the home of the Virgin of devotion, and stay in their houses, or their friends' houses. I don't know how many new sevillanas I learned. Prior to the camino, I was just working with "Carmela borda en mi vela" but now I have love song sung through the metaphor of "un trigo y un limon" and another about the virgin, plus a handful of others I haven't completely memorized.
All in all, an interesting experience, even if it did involve bumping along dirt roads in the back of a truck to get there. Don't let anyone tell you riding in a small remolque is okay. It's hellish! But tolerable in short distances and with lots of singing and other merriment.
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