Sunday, October 7, 2018

Musical contest of Verdiales, in Benagalbón

VERDIALES CONTEST for September 15 was rained out and lucky for us, changed to a time when we were in Spain to see our very first Verdiales music and dance.


 Verdialas is a traditional music and dance similar to flamenco, but different... We were unprepared for anything but a small festival.  Again, as we are learning here in Spain, it was SO MUCH MORE. Miguel Alba met us at a beach chiringuito near Benagalbón, drove us into the village and the blend of emotions began to build.  It seems as if he knows everyone he sees on the street as he’s pulled into a hand shake or a hug.  Between his history books of the Spanish immigration, the village of Benagalbón and the recent documentary, the people in this area think of him as a hero.  And he wanted to pull me and Steven into his realm.  We followed him up and down the streets of the village as he proudly pointed out the ribbons, flower-adorned hats and the decorations that advertised a musical contest would soon begin.  When we saw him speaking with three policeman and some men behind the fenced barrier, we just assumed he was saying hello to more friends.  When he turned toward us and motioned us to follow him into the space up the steps in front of the church where we could see a microphone and others gathering, we were confused, but up we went.


All of a sudden as we gazed at the crowd in front and both sides of the Candelaria Church from our now-higher vantage point, the mayor of Benagalbón began to introduce the festivities and then we heard Miguel's name, the documentary and "Patricia and Steven."  What?  Another very impressive moment and the contest had not begun yet.  We were in for a beautiful surprise.

We heard the sounds of a conch shell and then a young man leading a group of musicians.  Then we heard the music and the quick beat of instruments, saw a violin, four red guitars, very small brass cymbals, large tambourines and castanets with flowing, colored ribbons in the hands of several women (castañuelas).   The beat was quick and I immediately started tapping my feet. All of a sudden, another man lifted a rainbow-striped baton and the music sped up.  Faster, faster, the guitar strings, the violinist and the men with small brass cymbals played to a frantic beat.  The large tambourine added its separate sound and the musician ran his finger across the length of the round instrument to make a sound like a zither.  The women's castanets kept up the pace until everyone in the crowd (including me) was clapping in the same cadence. Then, everything stopped.  And another group same but different moved forward.  It was the same as the first one.  Conch shell blown.  Music and the sounds of strumming guitars, shining red in the Spanish sun.  The rhythmic snapping sounds of the castanets mesmerized me. 

There were ten groups from surrounding mountain villages.  I heard the name of Almogia, Puerto de la Torre and the others as each group competed for the best verdiales.  Wow.  It was quite beautiful and we could hardly believe their efforts.  One of the things I especially liked to see was the losing and winning group immediately hugged the other group.  Hugging and Spanish kisses.  Loved it!!

After the group that was led by a man in a black Spanish hat with wide brims named Pedro Romero won, special ceramic gifts were handed out.  People began to disburse and Miguel didn't stop grinning.   He loved seeing our amazement and kept saying, "Benagalbón is a special place, hmmmm?"  YES, we agreed over and over again.  He led us through the narrow streets and pointed out  flowers and ribbons to us.  When he introduced a woman to us named Nati, he said she made roscos like our grandmothers used to make with wine and sugar.  What we didn't understand as we walked around dodging festival goers and stopping to listen to the musical groups here and there again and again...was she'd invited us to her home!

When Miguel and Isa (his wife) pointed us inside one of the gracious homes near the last musicians as I continued to clap and sway with the women snapping those castanets, we were pulled into hugs and shown chairs.  There were roscos on a plate and a bottle of clear Anis beside tiny liqueur glasses...Well, we tasted and sipped and then the old couple raved about the documentary they'd seen on September 24 and the questions started.  It was very interesting and seeing the inside of this small abode was lovely.  We had been nearly four hours! 
It was soon time to drive to the next town where we'd spent the first ten days, in Torre del Mar.  We had a 9:30 pm dinner date with Vicky (who lent us the apartment for our stay there) and Eterio Ortega, the producer of the documentary.   It felt good to be back in town and we found La Yate Restaurant easily from our previous visit.  Oh, it was good to see our old friends.  Plates and plates filled with salads, fish and bread were placed in front of us with our wines and beer.  We ate, talked and ate some more.  By 11:45 pm, we all got up to say our goodbyes (we thought) and find the car for the 45 minute drive back to Los Nunez.  BUT, no --- the group led us to another restaurant for another chat where Vicky showed me historical photos inside the bar of the town, her birthplace.  By 12:30 am, Steven and I were sagging.  The Spanish meal and night times were so irregular to us...
As soon as we got into the car, I tapped on the GPS and prayed my phone wouldn't die before we found our way home in the dark.  And it died about five miles from the round house, but it was okay because I knew where we were.  The dark, narrow roads were a trick to navigate but Steven got us home by 1:30 a.m.  What a day!  


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