Reconquering Vigo!

Today I could have gone on a “coastal” walk around Teis, starting at the Praia de Arealonga in Chapela and finishing at Praia da Punta in Teis itself. It would undoubtedly have been interesting. My friend Carmen suggested it and I was tempted. But then I never got around to making the necessary phone call to put myself on the list. And then there was the little matter of the clocks changing, going forward this weekend and stealing an hour from my Sunday. To go on this excursion I would have had to be at the town hall by 9.45 – really 8.45 for my body clock. This would have meant getting up at 8 o’clock (on a Sunday!!!!) – really 7 o’ clock. And finally there was the question hanging over the weather. Just suppose I got up at 8o’ clock – really 7 o’ clock – and discovered it was pouring with rain and blowing a force 9 gale!! This excursion just wasn’t going to happen.

As it happened today has been rather delightfully spring-like: lots of sunshine, a pleasant temperature and flimsy bits of cloud wisping about in a mainly blue sky. Wouldn’t you just know it? So, rather later in the day, I went out for a walk to the Castro Park, always a good place to go. The pond is still without water, sitting there painted a rather disgusting pale green and with all its little stone islands sticking up. What on earth are the frogs going to do? Last year at this time they were busy singing their mating songs to each other. I read somewhere that frogs always return to their hatching ground to mate. They’re in for a surprise with the Castro Park pond, that’s all I can say!

While I was there I finally took a look at the Castro Musealizado, the museum they have made out of the old Roman and pre-Roman remains they found there. It’s fairly small – a lot of the original castro is believed to be still underground – but it’s nicely done with an interesting little model of what they think it really looked like. Some of the buildings have been reconstructed and “furnished”, in one case even having a rather scary dummy supposedly taking hay up into a loft!

I made my way down through the casco vello and suddenly found myself back in time. The Plaza de la Constitución was full of people in fancy dress, well, traditional Galician dress for some and olden-times peasant gear for others. There were stalls selling food and drink and the usual collection of craft products.

Gaita bands played traditional Galician tunes. But what was Mickey Mouse doing in the middle of it all? Why, selling balloon “swords” of course. The ground was strewn with straw to give it that authentic touch and to provide the children with lots of stuff to throw at each other and get in their hair and eyes. It was, of course, all part of the Reconquista which I had so far managed to avoid.

I had a look around and decided to wend my way homewards. That was when I got stuck in Plaza de la Princesa, just next to Puerta del Sol. So I got to see some of the fun after all. On one balcony stood a “French” general, haranguing the people of Vigo and demanding immediate surrender. On the other was the mayor of Vigo, exhorting his people to remain tranquilos.

The crowds were kept in place by cheeky “French” soldiers while various bits of history were re-enacted. Eventually the Vigo peasantry chased off the “French” soldiers who headed down to the port where they were going to be put on a boat and sent packing.

I decided, however, that there was little point in following them down to the port as I would have very little chance of seeing anything. On the whole I was a splendid example of not quite organised chaos. Lines of people in costume tried to keep the crowd from filling the whole square as they needed a path through for the “actors”, soldiers and peasants and even generals on horseback. Unfortunately they kept changing their minds about where they wanted the crowd to stand.

And there were some even better examples of the sheer thoughtlessness, single-mindedness, pig-headed determination to get their own way of quite a lot of people. A small girl near me was trodden on by a gentleman who pushed through everybody because “he had to get over there”. The same little girl’s mother, holding her up so she could see a little of what was (not yet) going on, was almost pushed over by three middle-aged ladies who were trying to improve their position.

A giant of a man was standing a few feet from me; he had no problem seeing, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. He had the general build to go with his height. The problem was that he insisted on standing with his arms folded. This meant that whenever there was any movement in the crowd his elbow almost knocked the traditional headdress off the lady standing next to him and indeed he eventually succeeded in doing so. When her companion, a much shorter man than the giant, remonstrated the giant was indignant and declared he had not given anyone a “codazo” – a blow with the elbow. He probably was not even aware that he was causing a problem

I have not yet mentioned the “professional” photographers. Talk about getting in everyone’s way. There’s nothing like a bit of historical re-enactment with a scruffy cameraman in the middle! As we eventually moved away we were channelled through the tunnel which leads from Plaza de la Princesa to Plaza de la Constitución. One of these media photo-hounds, female this time I hasten to add, was pushing her way through, no doubt in a hurry to gain a vantage point from which to get her next scoop. In one hand she held up a largish camera and in the other …. a lighted cigarette! So much for health and safety or even a normal concern for other people!

By the time I got home, I could hear the gunfire down at the port. Presumably by now they have pushed the franchutis out to sea and back to froggie-land once again! Almost over until next year.