The day was ending as magically as it had begun. I was sitting sipping sweet tea on the patio under an expanse of blazing stars. The Milky Way began at the horizon directly in front of me and shot across the inky sky over my head and beyond the rooftop. How could I possibly not feel utterly rich when surrounded by such beauty?
It had begun with a pre-dawn walk along the beach, Robert, Rowdy and I. The warm water invited us to walk knee deep. Baby dolphins were playing in the shore break directly in front of us and their child-like energy was infections. It was such a delight that we failed to even notice the sun’s climb above the horizon until it was shining fully upon land and sea. What a precious way to begin this fiesta weekend!
Mexican Independence Day, Sept 16th, is celebrated here in Abreojos with days of partying, parades, dancing, games and a fishing tournament that draws contestants from near and far. It is their ‘4th of July’. Our neighbors Tom and Marianne have a house full of Norte Americanos who have come down for the event.
Never having experienced this holiday before, we didn’t know what to expect. We had planned to go to the festivities in town, but getting information regarding the times for these events always seemed to draw multiple conflicting answers, so we decided to spend the majority of the day working on the house and then show up in the afternoon. After all there were 3 days of fiesta planned. Surely we would not miss them all!
There seems to be a custom here in Baja (maybe all of Mexico, I don’t know) that the arrival of the rancheros from the outlying ranches signals the beginning of the ‘real’ party. Since many of the ranches are deep in the mountains or desert, in times past, it could take days for them to ride their horses into the closest town to celebrate. (This accounts for why Mexican parties are known to last several days and the hosts feed and shelter their guests for the interim.) While trucks and vehicles have become the preferred method of transport nowadays, they still bring their horses and begin the festivities with a parade, riding down the main street. We really wanted to see this, but not knowing when it was scheduled (oh what a word for Mexico!) we voted for getting some projects done.
Imagine my surprise when I heard Robert calling me to come outside and see something. There were about 30-40 riders moving along the road out front! Mixed in with the horses were quite a few cars and further down, the road was lined with more cars and people who knew the horses were coming out here. I stepped outside my front door, walked across the driveway and enjoyed the parade. It had come to me!
Early in the afternoon we went into town to see what was going on. We strolled the malecon and saw the stage that had been erected for the band, the children’s play area, the booths that lined the street selling various foods, and the houses that had miraculously become ‘restaurants’ with tables, chairs and sign boards listing their menus.
Having experienced the street fairs of San Diego my whole life, with their sheer size and volume of attendees, one must appreciate what it is like here in a town of 1600 people and cultural differences. This is a big event here. Meapa (Muheres en Accion, Punta Abreojos- Women in Action, Punta Abreojos) spends days cleaning the town, cooking for the rancheros, organizing events and planning the games. Mexican flags fly from car antennas and garlands of green, white and red are strung everywhere. There is a surf contest (2 divisions according to age) with judges who are brought in from Wild Coast (a US based environmental group), dance performances by the children, an awards ceremony and of course the crowning of the Queen. And all this carries a certain innocence and delightful simplicity that I’ve never experienced in the States. The festival street is only 2 blocks long. Yet the enthusiasm is huge.
By sunset, many of our friends – Americans and locals alike- lined the street, libations in hand. I noticed a thick white rope some 50 feet long stretched across the sand. Tug of war? Yep. Before too long groups would gather by the rope, teams would form and Eduardo would officiate with just enough solemnity and lightheartedness to make it fun and a serious challenge. There were girls against boys, Gringos against Mexicans, rancheros against fishermen, and general free for all’s. Robert and our friends competed in a Gringo/Mexican round and everyone was completely spent afterwards. The American ‘pod’ sat on the beach close by and cheered and shouted encouragements. And here is where some cultural differences show up.
It seems that cheering is not done for things like this, nor is clapping after a band finishes a song. While we boisterously shouted and hooted the rest of the crowd was probably looking at us as though we were noisy children. That is not to say that the Mexicans do not participate. Heavens no! They will dance until sunrise and play with more heart than you can imagine, but they do not clap or shout. (Except at the baseball games, then it the exact opposite.) It seems so unusual to me, yet their energy lasts until dawn and I simply do not. So who knows? Maybe they are just too dignified to let go until more beer has been consumed; I have never lasted long enough at the gatherings to find out.
The highlight of the evening for us was the pole climb. I’d never witnessed this before and I marveled at the determined attitude of the competitors, along with their physical strength and fortitude. A 30 to 40 foot pole had been erected in the sand on the beach, just in front of the tug of war zone and it had been slathered very liberally with axle grease. At the top were 4 pieces of paper that fluttered in the wind on short strings. The goal was to get to the top and tear all the papers off the pole. Someone told me that you wanted to be the 60th person to try because until most of that grease was removed, there was no chance. And to top it off I hear axle grease is next to impossible to clean up.
Right around sunset a group of young men approached the pole and began to run their hands up and down it, as high up as they could reach, removing as much of the blue lubricant as they could and then flinging it on to the sand. (We all backed up rapidly!) Obviously they had been planning their attack for some time as they had 6 in their group and they seemed to know how they wanted to do it. The two biggest burliest guys formed the bottom tier by hugged each other tightly with the pole between them. Then, one by one, the others climbed up onto their shoulders and began to make a chain of bodies stretching to the top - they hoped. One minute they would look so strong then slowly the grease, that had by now spread to every inch of their bodies, faces and clothes alike, would take over and in slow motion they’d slide down the pole, landing in a heap, like an overheated candle that had melted. The grease mixed with the sand and sweat gave for better traction and every so often they would apply more sand on top of the grease. (I am sure that they had to throw away their clothing afterwards!)It took 11 tries to reach the top and between each attempt they would gather to reassess the situation. Extra bodies were brought in when on try #8 they had all participants up and steady, but were just 3 feet shy of being able to reach the papers. When they did reach the top, smiles, cheers, back slapping and beers were liberally passed around.
By this time the sun had long set. The band was playing and people were beginning to dance. We joined them for a while and then headed home, knowing that the party would last until dawn at least. And most of these folks were signed up for the fishing tournament at 6 a.m. the following day! I don’t know how they do it, but do it, they did.
We wandered down the next day around 4 to see results of the tournament’s catch, and the whole festival area had been moved off the street and onto the beach. MEAPA was serving free fish meals, the Tecate booth was doing brisk business and 5 massive black sea bass hung waiting to be weighed. The band was playing, families were seated under shade tents and the tournament’s sponsor, Shimano, was tallying the results for all the categories. Our neighbor Marianne had a yellow tail in the running in the women’s division. The sun was beating down on the playa and by this time we both had had enough partying, so we returned home.
Today (the following day) all is quiet. I think most people are sleeping still. Many folks will be leaving tomorrow, headed back to their home bases and life around here will return to its relaxing speed. It has been a wonderful holiday weekend and I am glad that I got to experience it.
The riches keep flowing!
