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My liver is slowly recovering, my head has stopped spinning and I am beginning to beable to hear things again in both ears . . . means the festivities must be over.
4 days of none stop partying, something you want to stop but somehow your drawn into more, you want to see the new and exciting thing, as everyday is different. On the Friday - the hymn - which I was lucky enough to be invited onto a balcony that overlooked the masses of people coming to sing, unlucky for me, all I could hear was Javi singing and not the crowds. Now many people make a grave mistake on the first night, and drink too much and miss the early start the next day, but not me. Javi warned me and I took his advice, after only half a bottle of wine I took myself to bed, knowing that the next day would be packed.
From the comfort of my flat I made myself at home on the balcony watching the procession of Christianos go round the placa espanya in the glorious heat. Granted this took a heck of a long time, and did become rather repetitive but eventually Javi and his fila made their appearance with their float just as my guests started arriving for lunch.
After lunch along came the moros - which is when I left the comfort of the flat and ventured out into the crowds. Now I'm still not sure how Raquel managed it, but Jordi, her and I scored some seats to watch the moros and their entourage as they walked on by. Due to the scorching heat, and the phone call from Javi we returned to the flat and allow the festivities to carry on without us down below. Whilst in the flat, mainly due to Javi's drunken friends, my flat and its balcony became the hotspot of the evening. People came and people went, and after a few too many drinks, some of which ended up on the floor, there became only four - Javi, Raquel, Jordi and I. What better to end a night than with a pizza. Which never arrived, because apparently they don't deliver during the festival, have you heard such nonsense.
Surprising no hangover the next day, as I spent the early hours of the morning trying to mop the stickiness of the floor in the living room, and collect the broken glass from the balcony (knew I shouldn't have trusted myself with a proper glass). Kim came round and we went down to the street to watch another procession. This time, it included Saint Jorge (in the above picture). Few more drinks and then out to the saints first communion, who happens to be the son of Javi's friend, which really shouldn't be surprising since most of Alcoy is a friend of Javi's.
A splendid lunch, with probably a little bit too much vino, and I collapse on the sofa, only to be awoken by the sound of fireworks. I had already missed another procession, and I was later to miss another, as everyone else managed to party into the small hours of yet another night.
The final day of the partying - not 100% how much my could take, but I was going to give it a good shot. The celebrations started early, in the form of gunfire, right outside my flat. Now for those who have seen the photos, the men really are firing guns, with gunpowder, and the noise can't actually be described. It's louder than any other thing that I can at this moment think of, and sending shivers down my spine even as I recall it. This carries on, throughtout the town pretty much all day, in some part. So whilst you are managing to steal a wee rest, some other poor person is being deafened. But you don't pity them, as you are fully aware that they will return as the Christains conqure back the town, and the Moros are pushed back down your street.
The night brought more fireworks, after the throwing of the arrows from the newly errected castle in the square. This is the main job of Saint Jorge, and is apparently a great honour. This I once again watched from my flat, with some people before stupidly venturing out for a night on the town. Bearing in mind this is the last day of the festivities and I had an 8 o'clock class the following day, but I managed and struggled through my class, which luckily was the only one of the day for me.
So they are over - I have to wait until October until the six month celebration of the reenactment of the battle between the Moros and the Christianos.
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