Sunday night: get back from the beach, and have an email waiting for me from Karioka, my capoeira teacher, asking me if I want to party with him and his friends in Elda. Down. So within 5 minutes, I threw some things in my bag and headed out the door for pickup. We caught a bus, and headed down. I had no idea what we had in store for us. (Oh, btw, it was 7pm when I left VLC, and Elda is about 2 hours away in bus. So the commitment meant being out all night and catching a train the next morning to make it back in time for classes. Which happened)
So we arrived in Elda, and grabbed a kebab while admiring the festivities of the Moros y Cristianos festival that was going on: thousands of people dressed as Muslims, pirates, and centurions parading through the streets. That was quite a sight by itself, but it was not what called us to the town. Karioka (Which is a nickname for a guy from Rio de Raneiro. His real name is George) has some friends of many years who wanted to celebrate in their own manner. We met up with them in a bar, and the laughs ensued. The group was 40 years+, and we were the weirdest combination of people. One guy from Las Canarias, one from Brazil, one from McAllen, Texas, a 20-year-old from the US, one from Spain, and a hob-glob of friends who came and went like a swarm of giddy children.
After a few bars, where I was not permitted to buy anything, we headed to Pepe's warehouse. What were we doing there, I wondered... I soon found out, as a series of Brazilian drums were brought down from shelves and distributed to every able hand. Karioka had taught these guys how to play years back, and we were going to make our own parade to outdo the Moros and Cristianos. After about 30 minutes of practice, we hit the streets.
Our Brazilian conductor was so meticulous, ensuring each person was dead-on. The result: a fantastic melody of beats, whistles and yells, accompanied by a town-full of people ready to join in and dance around us. We went from street to street, plaza to plaza, drawing crowds and smiles. We played from 1am to 7:30am. I don't understand how it was possible. Here's a photo of what that did to my hand:
I'll soon post photos of the smiles, dancers, and insanity of it all.
And I made it back to class the next day?? Yupp. Nothing a little siesta, food, and frisbee can't fix. Man, that was a great night. I don't know how it happened, and don't know if it will ever happen again. Thank you God, thank you Spain.
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