Merry Christmas (again)

Arriving back in Barcelona this week after a holiday in England it appeared time had stood still in my absence.

While Christmas had definitively passed in the UK, with attention there turning to the excesses of New Year and the dreaded return to work, the Catalan capital was in full festive flight, with shop windows lit up by garish Christmas lighting and carols blazing from El Corte Inglés.

For a moment I was confused: had everyone simply forgotten to take the decorations down? Or could holding two Christmases, one after the other, be some kind of clever move to boost the Spanish economy?

Then I remembered: Reyes.

It’s not like I didn’t know about Reyes, of course. I remember being impressed by the idea of a second day of presents when introduced to it by my Spanish friend back in my youth.

But somehow, as a Brit, it’s hard to imagine anyone REALLY getting their presents any day other than December 25 or from anyone other than Father Christmas himself.

I suppose I also worried Reyes might have somehow been subsumed in the same rush of globalisation that has made Halloween such an international festival, a fear not helped by a prominent Father Christmas in the doorway of the Corte Inglés from the first of December.

But, really, I shouldn’t have worried. Because, if there is one thing I’ve learned about the Spanish in my time here, it’s that they take their holidays very seriously indeed: if it isn’t the celebration of some previously unheard of religious event, it’s the rather brilliant Constitution Day or a local holiday that brings the entire town out into the streets to parade around with fireworks in a way that would be closed down within seconds in an overly Health and Safety conscious UK.

The festive period, then, seems like an obvious extension of this. Spaniards celebrate Christmas Day with vigour – if maybe a few presents less than elsewhere – enjoy a night out for the New Year and then, just as much of the world is settling down to a back-to-work hangover, stretch out in another day of presents and food.

Of course, I’m being slightly flippant: Reyes – or Epiphany - is one of the oldest religious holidays on the calendar and has been celebrated in Spain for hundreds of years.

Nevertheless, there is something about the second celebration day that reminds me of the joie de vivre that I have long respected of the Spanish and which makes such a refreshing change to the work obsession of Anglosphere.

That’s not to say that the British and Americans don’t like to party: one look at any British town centre on a Saturday night would be enough to blow that notion clean out of the booze-addled water.

However, there is something in the Anglo Saxon work culture that makes holidays somehow frowned upon: the British have among the lowest number of public holidays in Europe – despite the longest working week – and many Americans get by on 10 days holiday a year.

But it’s not just the number of public holidays in Spain that is notable - it’s the way the Spanish go about them. I was lucky enough to be in the Catalan village of Querol (pictured above) for its fiesta mayor last summer and witnessed the kind of inclusive, good-natured celebration that makes you want to extend the hand of goodwill to all and sundry, even when you wake up the next day hung over and hurting.

Surely this is what holidays should all be about? In Querol almost the entire 40-strong population gathered in the town square to dance the night away to a two-man band, with no one too drunk or too cool for the Macarena or Shakira’s ubiquitous Waka Waka.

Very different – but yet equally representative of the Spanish art of the fiesta in its own way – was the Barcelona Mercè one month later, which brought experimental Manchester guitar rockers Wu Lfy and two-step garage don Wookie to massive open-air stages in the Catalan capital, in a move of quite outrageous élan and musical experimentation.

Of course the art of the fiesta won’t fix the Spanish economy – more’s the pity - nor will it bring down youth unemployment. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t count.

The Spanish people I have met are industrious and entrepreneurial. But they also know that there are other things that count, among them a dance, a drink and a kiss for the neighbours. Frankly, it’s a lesson that other countries could learn.

And happy Reyes to you all.

Photo: Alexandra Sans Masso

Comments

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