Fiestas Del Pilar

Alright, so I’m used to playing soccer during the fall so I decided to find a team here in Zaragoza. I asked my host parents where the field was and they told me. I didn’t understand and my host dad was kind enough to draw a detailed map complete with scale and compass (just kidding).  The field was encompassed by cinderblock walls and an imposing sign emblazoned with the logo of the club.  The field was turf and there was stadium seating. They were excellent, they could string together twenty passes using two touches each. They could also drive the ball across the field right onto the foot of a man in the path of his run. Impressive stuff, and it was way beyond me. After two practices, the coach called me over and using slow Spanish explained that there were too many people (21 already) and that I wouldn’t be able to compete but I could always practice with them.  So this week I should be finding another team hopefully, and I’m looking forward to it.

From the 4th to the 13th of October, Zaragoza was filled with people that had come for the Fiestas Del Pilar, which celebrate the Virgin Mary’s appearance to Saint James on a pillar in Zaragoza itself. On the first day of Pilar, I camped out on Calle Alfonso which leads to the Plaza de Pilar. There were a ton of people wearing these crazily colored pants complete with suspenders although they allowed these to flop at their legs instead of actually wearing them. The kids would get their friends to sign them in permanent marker. The procession weaved its way down Alfonso in distinct groups. There was a group for every barrio (neighborhood) in Zaragoza. Each barrio wore the same color pants and stopped to dance to the myriad trumpets and tubas that accompanied their group. Every so often a group would stop and call to the onlookers standing on their balconies over Calle Alfonso, “Agua, agua” to which the amused Spaniard would leave and return with a pitcher of water to pour down on the drunk partygoers. They would roar their approval and march on, soaked to the bone yet still happy. I asked my host dad what this was all about and he shrugged his shoulders, “tradición” was the response. That night we watched fireworks above the cathedral as the start of Pilar.

Every night during Pilar, swarms of kids occupied the parks, practicing Botellon, or drinking in parks with friends, always interested in meeting Americans. Concerts happened every night as well, from the Spanish rockstars, Pereza , to whom I like to refer to as the Spanish Billy Joel, Miguel Bose.

And during every day of Pilar, my host family and I would pile into their van and drive to the abuelos’ accompanied by 80’s dance music, my host dad’s favorite type of music. Like I’ve mentioned before the meals at the abuelos’ are huge and I counted a high number of seventeen dishes on the table. The conversations always moved too fast for me to understand but I could tell they were very spirited based on their volume.

The ofrenda de flores was the final event of Pilar. There was another procession down Calle Alfosno, this time not made by loud, spirited Spanish youth but by Spaniards of all seventeen autonomous communities of Spain. They dressed in traditional clothes and walked with flowers to the Plaza de Pilar where they put them on a large float with a statue of the Virgin Mary at the top.

It was amazing to see how many people flocked to Zaragoza for the national festival.