So Dena and I ride into a town called Astorga. It is not a huge city but big enough to have a really good time: large plazas, cafes, and the like. As we make our way into the centre of town, we find people in Roman costume, a brass band marching through town, people on the streets everywhere, and food vendors and artisans selling their wares. It was much like the Disney movie Alladin. Astorga was celebrating with a Roman festivle. It is their week-long festivle that apparently many Spanish cities do, much like San Fermin in Pamplona (or the Running of the Bulls).
Anyhow, people are everywhere and we happened accross a church. But this was not just a normal church, it was a cathedral. It had this amazing facade with all sorts of intricate carvings and towers and bells. Then, below all the towering ornate-ness (if that´s a word) on the steps, we could see a wedding party, dressed to kill. Bride and groom and all the kings horses and all the kings men. It was a sight to behold. Now just witnessing this wasn´t such a big deal; it sort of reminded Dena and I of a week ago when we saw a baptism happening in an adjacent room of another elaborate gold-plated church. We merely looked at each other and considered it another twist of our Spanish cultural experience.
What made this wedding wild was what occurred later in the public plaza when we were eating a fine meal of pollo asado con papas fritas and we see the wedding party show up. And then the guests. And then the paparazzi. People were shouting and yelling and everyone was smiling . . . It seemed like a great time. Rice was thrown, rose petals were thrown, fire crackers shook the entire plaza and all its inhabitants, and even bottle rockets were getting lit right there in the plaza. Cheers, shouts, babies crying: there was nothing private about this wedding. Dena and I cheered with the rest of them as the guests quickly found their way to the reception, or the cafe next door for a quick laugh with their mates.
What made the experience complete is that two more times was the wedding a factor in the evening. Because Dena and I couldn´t secure a place to camp in the city, we ended up staying at a pilgrim alburge, or a hostel, designed for people walking or riding the el Camino de Santigo. They usually provide great facilities, but they also cram 12-70 people into one room to sleep. This particular room we were in had about 30. Too hot to sleep, too hot to move.
I decided to take a break from tossing and turning and stepped outside on the balcony only to hear a live band echoing off the wall accross from the courtyard with people cheering and laughing. I knew in one second that that had to be the wedding I saw about six hours eariler that day, going strong. I wasn´t mad because they sure wern´t keeping me up!
When six am FINALLY rolled around, we packed up our things and hit the trail. On our way out the door Dena and I saw the exact same people who were lighting fire crackers in the plaza the night before doing the happy, grinning, tired stumble home. They were singing us songs and wishing us well as we pedaled off. All I can say is that I have to get better at speaking Spanish so I can make some Spanish friends and get invited to one of these weddings!
