Feria 2008

So, once again, that time of year has come. The time of year when all Cordobesans go mad and head to a wasteground next to the river in order to drink, dance and wear crazy costumes. And I....join them. Because it's fun and you can't argue with tradition, no matter where it may spring from! La Feria de Nuestra Senora de la Salud has been celebrated in Cordoba, in one form or another, since the 1300s. Despite the name, it now has very little to do with religion, like most Andalucian fiestas, and it wraps up a mad Cordobesan May of partying with a bang. The women get gussied up in their best trajes de gitana and the men sport hats and funny trousers, but all of this is optional. Lots of people choose to dress as normal but drink as if all the sherry in the province were going to run dry.

So, with muchas ganas, I descended on Feria this year, a day late due to the incredible electrical storms and my fear of rain (I'll melt if I'm exposed to it, of this I'm sure). No matter how often you've seen it, or even if you've watched it being assembled over the past few weeks, the entrance ( portada) to the Feria never fails to impress. Never to be outdone, and always trying to get one up on Seville, the Cordoba portada, at 140 metres long and 45 metres high, is the biggest in Andalucia. Seeing it looming large in the distance is enough to make you all giddy and it's especially pretty at night when lit up by thousands of twinkly lights. So under the portada we went.

After a few free beers, a very tasty but very expensive lunch (every time I remember the figure it causes an involuntary twitch - must remind myself to only eat at feria once a year) and a jug of tinto de verano (red wine and lemonade - seriously, it's great) we saw some little girls flamenco dance to the strains of a very talented guiri guitar player and then the madness ensued.

Feria often means a lot of horses. There are processions every day and they wander up and down the feria carrying their traditionally dressed riders (many texting on their mobiles as they trotted past - very achronistic). Having begun chatting to some of the riders I happened to mention that I had been on a horse a couple of times before... Before I knew it I was astride a beautiful, but very headstrong, horse called Caprichoso, wearing a traditional sombrero cordobes. What a little bit of red wine and lemonade can do!

When I thought things couldn't get any more interesting we headed off to the other side of the feria. Like most things in life, there are two sides to the feria. On one side you have the casetas, civilized little houses with bars, food and dancing and, on the other, you have the funfair where things become infinitely tackier and, inevitably, scarier. Here you can win yourself your mini motorbike in an exciting game of bingo, eat your weight in candyfloss and lose limbs in all sorts of dodgy rides. Once again, I found myself (nobody ever seems to have control over their own actions at feria, you just find yourself doing things that in other circumstances seem totally insane/life-threatening...alcohol has some part to play in all this, but feria is akin to the twilight zone)mounting a ride which I later discovered involved me hanging upside down for a protracted period of time. Having drunk so much tinto de verano it made me very giggly and hicuppy.

Things wound down to a very calm close as we threw shapes on the dance floor of a communist caseta, sipping rebujito (sherry with lemonade - I'm telling you, we Irish just don't mix enough things with lemonade!). Day 1 of the feria down, just 7 more to go!