e-mail: mlavers@cisunix.unh.edu website: mykey81.tripod.com age: 22 school: University of New Hampshire major: Journalism and Spanish passions: Social justice and awareness, writing, hiking, traveling, living life also published in: Derry News, The New Hampshire, InNewsweekly other accomplishments: Member of the UNH President's Commission on GLBT Issues, SHARPP peer educator, volunteer at the Southern New Hampshire AIDS Task Force, studied in Granada, Spain for a semester, hiked Rock of Gibraltar and Mt. Washington

Reflections

Bonfires, Sacromonte, and La Marcha Vignettes from Provincetown; Bound to the Sea

Bonfires, Sacromonte, and La Marcha
from "A Gringo in Granada, the true story," travelogues written while in Spain, January - May 2003

The night is cool and clear. The stars are shining brightly over Granada. At about 2.00 I leave TicTac after having a couple of beers and begin walking towards Sacromonte to watch the Procesión de los Gitanos. It is one of the most spectacular of the 15 that wind through the streets of Granada during the 10-day long Semana Santa celebrations.

I pass one of the processions finishing its nearly eight hour journey at Calle de San Jeronimo and walk towards Plaza de Isabel la Católica. Gran Vía is crowded with people (young, old, etc.), women selling roasted potatoes out of empty oil drums and men selling balloons, roasted peanuts and popcorn from pushcarts line the sidewalk as I walk through Plaza Nueva.

Throngs of people are coming down Carrera del Darro as I walk up the narrow cobblestone street. Red, blue and green lights light up the Alhambra as I pass by Plaza de Castril. A white trailer is doing a booming business selling churros; a long strip of dough dipped in a thick chocolate sauce. Small children are playing in a playground along the edge of the plaza. It is 2.40 in the morning. Nearby on Cuesta del Chapíz, a steep road that leads to Camino de Sacromonte, another small white trailer is selling ice cream and popsicles. I pass it and begin the steep ascent along with hundreds of other people into Sacromonte.

After climbing nearly 30 meters I turn onto Camino de Sacromonte. Many young Spanish are in the streets for la marcha, drinking, yelling, kissing, etc. On my left are several bars built into caves in the side of the hill. I continue walking, following the crowds up steep and narrow alleys, climbing ever higher up the hillside, finally reaching a flat path terraced into the side of it.

The first thing I see besides hundreds of people lined along the path, leaning along white walls is a huge bonfire fanned by dry palm and pine branches. Men are walking, or some cases running through the flames. Many are drunk on San Miguel or Alhambra but its still an amazing sight to see. As I continue to find a spot along the wall more and more bonfires are being lit. At one point I count no less than seven, including one about six meters away from where I eventually find a space. I can feel the warmth on my right side. The bonfires are lit by the Gitanos to ward off evil spirits and the smoke rising above Sacromonte from them provides a sense of protection. It hangs over the neighborhood like a comforting fog.

Even though there are trees blocking much of my view I can still see the paso de María Santisma del Sacromonte passing through the streets below me. There is barely any room for the paso to pass through the crowd lined along the street. A young girl of about 20 years makes the sign of the cross as the image of the virgin comes into view. Intermixed between the music of the band la Virgen del Mayor Dolor people shout "¡Guapa!" "¡Viva Sacromonte!" and "¡Viva a los gitanos!". Along with the bonfires the neighborhood takes on a strange feeling and mix of hundreds of years of tradition and the chaos of Woodstock.

At about 3.30 I leave Sacromonte along with thousands of other people. I stop outside of a bar and watch a woman of about 40 dance flamenco with a similar aged male partner until another younger women shoos us away. I continue down the hill until I reach the churros y chocolate trailer where I end the night indulging. Its 3.45 in the morning.

Vignettes from Provincetown; Bound to the Sea

The red and white striped boat Sweetness is moored in the sand of Provincetown's Town Landing. The calm, placid waters of the harbor lap gently at the sand a short distance away. The beautiful mid-September sun shines down as a refreshing breeze from the Atlantic Ocean to the East tempers the afternoon air.

The horn of a departing ferry reminds me of the co-existence of this town at the tip of Cape Cod and the sea.

Small sailboats bob up and down in the water out in the harbor. Their masts gently rock back and forth.

Large yellow sand dunes covered in stubby, knotted pines and sharp blades of grass are all which protect this quintessential New England coastal town from the never-ending onslaught of the Atlantic Ocean.

The narrow streets along the harbor are a bustle as pedestrians stroll, people window shop in the many stores and shops, bicyclists leisurely ride and vehicles attempt to navigate through the maze of humanity.

An odd mix of seagull wails, human speak and techno music fills Commercial Street as life slows to a more leisurely pace. Perhaps this is Provincetown's true beauty, the eclectic and laissez-faire mentality fuse in a characteristically Provincetown place.

Two men discuss dildos with a saleswoman at Toys of Eros as I look and touch a silver-chain meshed dominatrix shirt, similar to those a Middle Ages knight in England may have worn.

A dog rests its head on the chest of a young man in the Town Landing beach as he runs his fingers through its brown fur.

A woman with dreads in her hair sells a variety of homemade arts and crafts to pedestrians who walk by in front of the Provincetown Meeting House. A baby in a carriage is next to her as she talks with potential customers.

A little girl no older than two runs up to her father at Race Point Beach. He is about to cast his line out into the surf. She squeals with laughter and excitement as a wave comes up and gets her pants wet past her knees. She runs back to her mother who sits on the beach and giggles.