Presenting the Champions Of The World
Now the red and yellow flags have disappeared from the balconies and car aerials of all except the most avidly patriotic supporters, and conversation has moved on from el golazo de Iniesta, el besazo de Iker and Sara and the latest predictions of Pulpo Paul and settled on the favourite topic of every summer; how unusually hot the weather is.
World cup fever is in remission, flags and vuvuzelas have been stored away for another four years. Or maybe until the warm-up matches for the 2012 European Cup. Or, well, at least until the football season starts again in a month or so. It’s back to business as usual in Spain: the Nationalists in the more independence-minded corners of the peninsula have returned to testing how far they can stretch the glue of autonomy that holds the country’s regions together before something snaps; Congress has gone back to arguing about whose fault the economic crisis is and blaming each other for lack of ideas to resolve it; and the rest of the population is going about its annual migration to the coasts and mountains in search of seasonal refuge from the scorched interior.
But for 48 hours or so – from the 116th minute of the 2010 World Cup final on 11 July, when Andrés Iniesta blasted the ball past the Dutch keeper in the dying minutes of extra time to win sport’s greatest prize for his nation and all Spain seemingly jumped up and down and shouted ¡¡¡¡Goooooooooooooooooooooooool!!!! in unison, until the last revelers lay down their vuvuzelas and fell asleep to dream happy dreams of goals and glory – the whole country wrapped itself in red and gold and celebrated in the streets. The party congregated in the centre of Madrid, where we sang, cheered and chanted under the intense afternoon sun as we waited to welcome our heroes home, and then followed the team bus through town in a million-strong conga line.
Vicente Del Bosque’s men will be champions for another four years, or longer if they successfully defend their title. But during those jubilant 48 hours, Los Campeones del Mundo were all of us.
¡A por la final!
A good-humoured riot of Spanish fans (plus a German) in the Plaza de Cibeles celebrating Spain’s world cup semi-final win over Germany last night.
¡¡¡Goooooooooooooooooool!!!
Celebrating David Villa’s goal during Spain’s victory over Paraguay in the World Cup quarter-finals last Saturday. For the first time ever, Spain are now through to the heady heights of the final four, but will Wednesday’s semi-final game against the seemingly unstoppable Germans end in cheers or tears?
The Day The Streets Were Carpeted
The 15th of May is the Fiesta de San Isidro, Madrid’s patron saint. The holiday is a good excuse to party any year (not that Madrileños need much of an excuse), but this year was especially festive, 2010 being the the 100th anniversary of La Gran Vía.
To mark the occasion, the capital’s main street was carpeted in vibrant blue. I don’t know whether the blue represented water (San Isidro had the miraculous ability to divine the stuff) or was a not-so-subtle display of the colours of Mayor Gallardon’s conservative Partido Popular. In any case, especially if you didn’t think too hard about how much it might cost to carpet nearly 1.5km of tarmac, the blue rug was surprisingly fun to walk on. Thousands of other people seemed to think so too, and the normally traffic clogged-street was even more than jammed than usual – this time with pedestrians. Chulapos and Chulapas (and their dogs…) paraded wearing their traditional finery, crowds gathered in what were usually busy traffic intersections to watch the concerts that were taking place along the avenue, while others sat on the carpet munching picnics, as if they were in the park.
The following day we headed to the Pradera de San Isidro, on the banks of the Rio Manzanares, were Madrileños traditionally gather to celebrate the festival. San Isidro miraculously divined water in the meadow that now forms the park, and the faithful queue for hours to drink the holy water that flows from the spring (or taps?) at a hermitage overlooking the river, while the not-so-reverent feast, sing zarzuelas and dance chotis.
Casper the Holy Ghost
Penitents in Granada, earlier this month.
I often think the hooded penitentes look quite imposing, scary even, as they parade the streets during Semana Santa. However, this group, taking a rest during the procession of the Hermandad de la Aurora, look more Casper the Friendly Ghost than Ku Klux Klan – especially the guy on the left, entranced with his candle.
This pic made the wall for the last Wall Project task: “People”. Next up, candidates for the latest theme: “Spring”.
