A Serious Festival

Today is a rainy Sunday. Unfortunately. Because today is the celebration of the maritime procession of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Thanks to the rain, it's been cancelled. She isn't the patron saint of Rianxo, who happens to be Santa Columba, but rather a much venerated saint in one of the hermitages in Rianxo. A hermitage is like a little church made in honor of a certain saint, and Mass is only celebrated there on the feast day of that saint. There are thousands scattered through the villages of Galicia. Sometimes you'll be driving and you'll see a little church on a hilltop. That will be a hermitage. Their origin is probably lost in a time when a special spirit was associated with a place. Then the Church came and said that spirit was Saint This or Saint That. Others are not so ancient, like the Virgin of Guadelupe.

The image of the Virgin was made by a monk in the monastery in Extremadura where the original image was venerated since, apparently, the fourteenth century. That was when Gil Cordero, a shepherd, saw the apparition of the Virgin telling him to dig in a certain place by the river Guadalupe. He did so and he found the original statue of one of Europe's black Virgins, supposedly hidden there in 714 to save it from the invading Moors. The monk who made the copy brought it to Rianxo in 1773, when it was placed in a hermitage in neighboring Rianxiño, where another saint, San Xosé da Floresta is actually venerated (and still has a festival the first Sunday in May). Then Napoleon's troops came by. In the spirit of rationalism they destroyed many churches, monasteries, and hermitages along the way, including that of San Xosé. After the troops were routed, the parish priest decided to fix the chapel, and found that the image, though having suffered exposure to rain and sun, was in a perfect state of repair. Which was good for the neighbors, who had always believed she had protected the sailors of the town from catastrophe and brought in many fish to the nets. And good for the town, because a romería was established which brought people from far and wide to celebrate and ask for her intercession. 

Since the chapel she had originally been placed in was in dire need of repair, she was taken to another at the entrance to the town previously known as the hermitage of Nuestra Señora de la Cruz (Our Lady of the Cross). That hermitage was renamed in the new virgin's honor and is now known as the hermitage of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Since the nineteenth century she has been venerated there. The veneration really took off when a cholera epidemic barely touched the town of Rianxo in 1854, and everyone attributed that miracle to the Virgin of Guadalupe. Her feast day generally falls on the second Sunday in September, though the rule is, non baixará do nove e non subirá do quince. It shall not go below the ninth, nor above the fifteenth. So, depending on the year, it can be the second Sunday or the third. Though, now in the twenty-first century, the festival lasts seven days. It begins the Friday night before the actual feast day, with young people bathing each other in red wine (what that has to do with the saint is yet to be determined). And it ends the following Friday with a verbena that lasts from ten at night to ten the next morning, or thereabouts. I feel for the musical groups that have to play that night. And for the street cleaners that have to clean the unholy mess in the morning. Though I don't feel so much for those lying dead drunk in doorways after an excess of celebratory alcohol.
 
There are many activities during the week. Groups of young people, or peñas, get together for games on one of the days. There's a day for children, there are bands playing through the streets, there are fair rides in the afternoon and evening, and people just generally getting together for drinks in one of the many bars and terraces all over town. On the Thursday there is a Feirón Mariñeiro (Fishing Fair) in which some of the streets go back in time to when Rianxo was a simple fishing village. People dress up like fishermen and women and there are many different stalls of all kinds of products and crafts. There is a potter, a wooden shoe maker, a straw hat maker, and games for children. There are stands with different foods and bagpipe players that roam all over. Any plans to visit on that day should be millimetric, because after four in the afternoon no one fits. 

Any attempt to conduct normal business in Rianxo should be abandoned during this week. Some businesses close in the afternoons, others all week. Parking is a small nightmare with streets closed off. Rianxo takes its festivals seriously, and the Guadalupe is the most serious of all. It's even been declared a festival of international touristic interest. The culmination of the festival comes at two in the morning of the last night. That night there are three musical groups playing. Just before two o'clock sparklers are distributed and, one after the other, the groups play the "Rianxeira", while in the plaza thousands hold sparklers over their heads and sing the song with the singers of the groups. The lights are turned off and the only lights are from the windows of some buildings, the stage, and the sparklers. 

A Virxe de Guadalupe,
Cando vai pola ribeira,
Descalciña pola area
Parece unha rianxeira.

Ondiñas veñen,
Ondiñas veñen e van.
Non te embarques, rianxeira,
Que te vas a marear.

The Virgin of Guadalupe,
When she goes along the shore,
Barefoot upon the sand
Looks like a rianxeira.

Little waves come,
Little waves come and go,
Don't get on board, rianxeira,
For you will get sea-sick.   

That song was first composed and sung in Buenos Aires in the 1940's by expatriates from Rianxo. It has since become the unofficial anthem of Galicia. The Virgin is compared to a woman from Rianxo, and refers to the maritime procession, when the image is carried on a fishing boat inside the bay. Since she's always on land, there's the risk of sea-sickness, like probably most of the fisher wives suffered when they got on their husband's boats. I have been at the festival a couple of times when the song was sung. The public puts their heart into it, and you can hear them sing better than you can hear the singer with the microphone. The neighbors take it seriously and sing as loud as they can. 

It's their moment in time.

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