Last month I went to Lleida (aka Lérida), a small city in Catalunya, the province where Barcelona is located. Every town in Spain has at least a couple days every year that are dedicated to celebrating that area´s gastronomy, traditional dances/sports/activities, and so on. It´s a little like the fourth of July, I guess, except that instead of being more or less the same everywhere, Spanish fiestas differ widely by region. You can encounter anything from bullfighting to snail races (like cockroach races, but with snails!) to solemn parades, complete with faithful churchgoers carrying an oversized statue of the virgin or saint from their parish.
Catalunya is an interesting province because depending on the area, it has the reputation of being either among the most traditional or among the most cutting-edge areas in Spain. Catalan people are fiercely proud of their regional language—in fact, many of the people I met during the weekend spoke Catalan among themselves by default, and only switched to Spanish out of deference to me. I've heard many people from Madrid say they feel unwelcome in Catalunya, I suspect mostly because of this linguistic issue. The Basque Country, Valencia and Galicia also have regional languages, but in those areas it's not common to walk down the street and hear only the regional language. But Catalunya is different. On the other hand, it's also the home of Barcelona, arguably the most cosmopolitan, international city in Spain. Its long history as a port probably helps, but even now Barcelona is known for cutting-edge medical treatments, delicious food, and innovative architecture.
The first part of the fiestas we attended were in the evening, and they were like nothing I've ever seen. A group of maybe 20-30 adults, dressed in flame-retardant red devil suits with hoods and horns, ran repeatedly through a crowded street setting off giant sparklers, most of which exploded with a huge "CRACK!" as they went off. Some of the "devils" had tridents spewing sparks, which they twirled menacingly through the crowd, chasing the spectators and making them duck and cower. None of the fire was real fire, per say, but there was a lot of smoke and most people were sporting hooded sweatshirts, cowboy hats, and bandannas over their mouths, Old West style. This whole crazy scene was backed by a growling heavy metal band playing loud, ominous music… and several fire trucks. When we arrived at this event, I assumed the fire trucks had been featured in a parade, but no, they were there in their functional capacity, just in case.
The following morning, we went to see the castellers. I had heard of this but never seen it—it's like a human pyramid, sort of, with a base of 15 people holding one or more people up by the legs. Gradually more people climb vertically on top of the first ones until they have created a a sort of human tower. (Castellers translates roughly to "castle-ers.")
We got there early enough to see the climbers getting ready. Everyone wears what look like normal khakis, a button-down shirt with a collar, and a wide, stretchy scarf that they wrap tightly around their waists (many people had a friend wrap them into it to make sure it was tight enough.) The scarf serves a double purpose—it serves as a kind of back brace, and also gives the climbers a foothold.
And then, with a little ceremonial trumpeting from some traditional clarinet-type instruments, it began. The plaza, which was jammed with people, fell totally silent as we watched a young woman clamor up the body of the man being supported in the center of the circle. She knelt on his shoulders, then braced herself as a little girl scrambled up both of them to crown the tower. It must be a tremendous physical strain for the people being climbed up, but although they were often trembling from the effort, no one fell. The only person who wears a helmet is the child who ascends to the top. This kind of tower, one person on another on another, is considered the most difficult and the most technically pure since the people have no side support. As if executing the formation weren't incredible enough, the bottom phalanx of people also turned the tower in a circle and even walked, very slowly, across the plaza.
The "castles", which have multiple layers of three or four people standing in a circle, are equally impressive. They begin with the group's trainer calling out people and formations like a football coach. Then the group asks for silence and the plaza obliges, watching more and more climbers scramble up the lower layers of people to create new "stories." Because the climbers create stability by interlacing their arms for support, castles can be much taller than towers of just one person atop another. I think the tallest one we saw was eight "stories" of people, crowned by two ten-year-old girls (wearing helmets) and a smaller girl kneeling on top of them.
The coolest thing for me, besides the sheer physical force of these people, was the diversity of members among the groups of castellers. They included children as young as six and continued all the way up to men who appeared to be in their seventies. The younger, stronger men and women are typically climbing or serving as the inner circle of people supporting the tower's base. The older people are on the outer edges of the circle at the base, supporting those closer to the middle. And the smallest children climb up to the very top. It was really neat seeing whole families participate in the castellers and realizing that for some people, it can be a lifelong hobby. I took a pamphlet about how to become a casteller from the group's information booth group after the performance… I live in Madrid and I don´t speak a word of Catalan, but you never know where you might end up!