It's been a little while since I posted, and some very kind BYC people have messaged me (is that a proper verb?) to ask what's been happening in our village.
Well, New Year's Eve was interesting. The Spanish have this tradition where you are supposed to swallow one grape every time the clock strikes midnight. So we walked down to the church at midnight as usual, clutching our (seedless) grapes.
If you've read 'Chickens', you'll know our church clock is rather erratic. It usually chimes twice, so at midnight it'll chime 24 times, or it doesn't chime at all. At midnight, Joe, all the villagers and myself waited with baited breath, grapes poised.
Nothing.
Geronimo was obviously expecting this hitch, so he began to climb up the rickety ladder to the church tower. We all watched, the village ladies ooohing and aahing as he climbed, Joe and I worrying about how much beer he had consumed earlier.
Well, Geronimo had obviously done this many times before. When he reached the bell, he drew out a hammer from his back pocket. Twelve times he clanged the bell, so loudly that it reverberated round the valley, echoing as it bounced off the mountains. The grape ritual began. I choked on grape number 6 and had to be slapped on the back by Paco, our next door neighbour. Joe got off to a good start but only managed 10.
After the usual round of cheers, kisses, hugs and 'Happy New Year!' we wandered back home, Joe still complaining that Geronimo had rung the chimes too fast. Looking back over our shoulders, we could see Geronimo's silhouette against the night sky, high up in the church tower, taking a hefty swig from his beer bottle.
And so began 2010.
Victoria
Well, New Year's Eve was interesting. The Spanish have this tradition where you are supposed to swallow one grape every time the clock strikes midnight. So we walked down to the church at midnight as usual, clutching our (seedless) grapes.
If you've read 'Chickens', you'll know our church clock is rather erratic. It usually chimes twice, so at midnight it'll chime 24 times, or it doesn't chime at all. At midnight, Joe, all the villagers and myself waited with baited breath, grapes poised.
Nothing.
Geronimo was obviously expecting this hitch, so he began to climb up the rickety ladder to the church tower. We all watched, the village ladies ooohing and aahing as he climbed, Joe and I worrying about how much beer he had consumed earlier.
Well, Geronimo had obviously done this many times before. When he reached the bell, he drew out a hammer from his back pocket. Twelve times he clanged the bell, so loudly that it reverberated round the valley, echoing as it bounced off the mountains. The grape ritual began. I choked on grape number 6 and had to be slapped on the back by Paco, our next door neighbour. Joe got off to a good start but only managed 10.
After the usual round of cheers, kisses, hugs and 'Happy New Year!' we wandered back home, Joe still complaining that Geronimo had rung the chimes too fast. Looking back over our shoulders, we could see Geronimo's silhouette against the night sky, high up in the church tower, taking a hefty swig from his beer bottle.
And so began 2010.
Victoria
