Yesterday was the inauguration of the bi-annual folk festival in Jaca. Due to start at ten thirty at night, it meant the finish was bound to be late.
The city is absolutely crammed with tourists as well as the many participating groups: from Mexico and Martinique, Northern Macedonia, Uganda and Uruguay, Indonesia and Italy, from Argentina and Zimbabwe, not forgetting groups from Jaca, neighbouring Sabiñánigo and Asturias and Galicia. I may have missed a few in my attempts at alliteration; but I mustn't forget my own, Orfeón Jacetano and the municipal band of Santa Orosia.
Well, I live a little way out of the centre of the city, and while it's no problem for me to walk there and back, I'd rather not do so past midnight, so we took the car down earlier and parked it near to the open-air auditorium of Sanlure where the show was to take place. It was a great parking space except for the fact that I couldn't leave until the whole thing was over because the street was solid with dancers, musicians, ambulances, technicians, volunteers.
We all arrived in good time, drank in the festival atmosphere and enjoyed the spectacle of the interactions between the waiting groups. The audience entered from the other end of the arena so everyone there was either a performer or support for the performers. I watched a young girl from Zimbabwe with a circle of girls from the Slovak Republic. She was teaching them how to wiggle their bottoms in the style of her dance. Brilliant.
We waited. On stage, they talked. Talked. Of course, from behind, we could hear noise, but not follow what was being said. It went on for a long time befor our cue, which was when our conductor, Celia, was called on; she's taken part in a lot of festivals in its sixty years history.
Finally we filed onto the stage, sang our song, which is the anthem of the festival, and filed off.
Most people went home, but I couldn't because my car was stuck, so I hung around until almost the end, chatting with people and watching what was going on. I enjoyed the experience. Where we opened the show, the municipal band were to close it, so they had to wait through all the performances. The Italian flag-throwers sat on chairs and smoked. The people from Zimbabwe had to take refuge in an ambulance because they felt too cold: their costumes didn't cover them much, whereas some of the Spanish women and the Mexicans were wearing warm, bulky dresses. The Uruguayan tango dancers also got chilly; the women had slinky backless dresses.
Each group had something like two or three minutes to file on, perform a spectacular dance or sing a somg, or throw flags up. A lot of waiting for a few moments on stage, but generally people were cheerful; probably used to being patient.
Anyway, here are a few pictures of my group and a video: I'll post some of the others when I can.
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