Pyromania – Sitges, Spain


 

The madness begins with the “Festa Major Parade”, a.k.a. the “almost blowing small children’s heads off parade…”

 

September 22nd:

Hitching from Manresa, Spain
“Hola!  Don day ba?” (my phonetic spelling of “hi, where are u going”.)
The lady walks past me, head high, and gives me a distrustful sideways look.  She watches me ask a few other people while she fills her tank. She gestures for me to approach her, and asks me something.   I assume she wants to know where we want to go, so I show her the map.  She’s headed south to Sitges.
“Bueno!” I say.  “Can you give us a ride?”

(Top pic: it turns out pyromania is a local speciality in Sitges.)

 

Sitges is beautiful.   A small city on the Costa Dorado (Gold Coast), it sparkles in the sun invitingly.  It’s a solid gold tourist spot, without doubt.   White sand, clean, calm water, and thanks to the hills surrounding the city, a perfect climate year round.
It is only a very short distance to Barcelona, so Sitges is a very popular destination.  The city is teeming with tourists, especially bronzed, graceful men in skimpy bathers.   Sitges is renowned for its gay friendly culture it turns out.

At first glance, as we sit on the boardwalk and get our bearings, Sitges is intimidatingly glossy.   The beach is lined with upmarket eateries, hotels and beach clubs.  Not hitchhiker friendly.  

I take a look at my GPS map though, and notice a large area of vacant land a few minutes walk north of the beach strip.   We check it out and it is a resounding win.   Five minutes from the water on foot, heavily overgrown, and with a scattering of trees, it’s hobo heaven.  

We find a perfect camping spot well hidden in a grove of big gnarled carob trees*.   We hide our bags and head back to the beach.

(*Tip for trampers: take advantage of this spot while u can.   It will soon be consumed by the massive blocks of flats springing up down the road a few clicks. )

 

My first dip in the Med’.  The water is as delicious as it looks.   The best part of the beach is the quiet corner right near the old church, at the eastern end, away from the beach clubs and bustle.

A lazy hour or two goes by on the beach, and suddenly there is a massive “bang!”  We look toward the church on the eastern headland and see a puff of smoke scattering.   The first explosion is followed by a second, and on and on.   The church bells begin to ring frantically.
We go to investigate.

 
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Sitges is having its annual “Festa Santa Tecla”, which honors the city’s Patron Saint, as well as a supporting cast of more obscure but equally colorful characters.  ( I am informed by a local that tecla also translates as ‘keyboard’ in the Catalan language. )  With hitchhitcher’s luck we have stumbled into town on the very day of the festival.

As the sun goes down the local store owners start to stick cardboard and tarps over their windows, and secure their shutters.   Something crazy is about to go down, that is clear.

The madness begins with the “Festa Major Parade”, a.k.a. the “almost blowing small children’s heads off parade.”   Local kids, egged on by well meaning family members and friends, put painted cardboard puppets over their heads, attach fireworks to themselves, and run spinning through the street showering onlookers with sparks.  The majority of them are unscathed, but there are ambulances standing by, just in case.   This spectacle is just the warm up though.

The main parade starts from the beautiful 13th century church, with relative solemnity, and then bursts onto the street with raucous fury.   Dancers, musicians, puppets, acrobatics, Catalan chanting, and really loud fireworks…   it is overwhelming, exciting, and very much about community.  

The whole town seems to be involved.   People  lean out of windows and balconies and cheer the paraders on.   Little kids scramble around dodging sparks.  I get a bit too close in my photographic ecstasy and get a hole burned in my hat.

There is a frenzied quality to the celebration, but everything is friendly and jovial.  Everyone meets your glance with a smile.
The parade ends with a chant which calls for Catalan independence, and a common cheer.    The party isn’t over yet though.  All the players roam through the streets for the next 5 hours, banging drums, dancing, playing wildly upbeat music, and attempting to set the town on fire.  The fire chief and the chief of police are in the parade, so I guess if anything goes wrong the right people are close at hand.

The town stays up ’til the wee hours drinking and partying.  We retreat to our hillside camp, listen to the music echo around the hills, and watch the midnight fireworks blaze over the sea.
 


 
( Above: Sitges’ beautiful 13th century cathedral. )
 
( Below: festival floats waiting outside the church, for the parade to begin. )
 

 

 
( Above: view of Sitges and the Mediterranean from our camp spot. )
 

 
( What kid doesn’t like a bit of pyromania? )
 

 
( Above: everyone in the family can get singed! )
 

 

 
( Below: this flyer depicts Santa Tecla herself, demonstrating the dangers of handling fireworks carelessly. )
 

 

 

 

 

 
( Above: hats and sunglasses are essential festival wear. )
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
( Above: the guy with the wagon is in charge of the munitions. )
 

 
( Below: I think this was the moment my hat got a hole burnt in it. )
 

 

 

 

 

 
( Above: the serious part of the proceedings. )
 

 

 

 
( Above: Festa Santa Tecla has a long history. )
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
(Above: Nia nearly gets her ears burnt off. )
 

 

 

 
( Above: the best value accomodation in Sitges. This is where we camped in the old carob grove.)

 

 

>> More stories about Spain.

>> More stories about my hitchhiking misadventures.

 

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