The annual festival to celebrate the Sao Sebastio (the saint of this region) would held on Saturday, January 20 in a small village near Chaves. People from all over Portugal would come to this village in celebration. Not surprisingly, the saint would be honored with food. This was to be an eating festival.
Duarte and I were curious about the village and the festival. Duarte thought this might be an interesting research study, so we headed to the village to check it out a few days in advance. A few wrong turns led us into a river valley with mountain pastures on either side. We encountered a few shepherds walking their cows through the valley. The views were incredible.
Driving into the tiny village, we were both wondering how hundreds of people would be able to attend a celebration here. We stopped in front of the only café and walked around while Marcos rode his bike. As always, we captured the attention of many of the locals and some of them came out to talk with us. It was interesting to get an inside perspective on the weekend’s upcoming events.
One of the locals invited into the building adjacent to the café. We learned that this building is where all of the food would be prepared and ultimately blessed by the priest for the festival. A group of men were pulling weeds, cleaning the floor and carrying tables outside. Duarte asked where we could buy bread. Inside a small room in the back corner of the building were shelves upon shelves of large, round loaves of bread - 1400 in total. One of the men, with his dirty, working hands, grabbed a loaf of bread and cut large chunks of bread for us with a sharp knife. The bread was hearty and heavy. The townspeople had been baking for 4 days and 4 nights so they would be able to feed the festival attendees. We bought a heavy round of bread (I bet it weighed over 5 pounds). Then the men were curious about us. When they learned of our curiosity about the festival – they were eager to show us around and include us in their efforts for preparing for the many visitors soon to come.
In large baskets outside of the bread room, were large chunks of cured meat. This is traditional food of the Tras-os-Montes region and the reason people come to this festival. In addition there were large caldrons where the rice was to be cooked. There were baskets loaded with wooden plates for serving the bread, rice and meat. All of this was being prepared only for the celebration – not for monetary gain – as the festival attendees would not pay for the food. Outside, the women were carrying long, thin tables for serving the food. These tables would be lined up from one end of town to the other. Visitors would bring their own table cloths and find a place at the table to eat. I was thinking that this was a Portuguese version of tailgating.
On Saturday, the day of the festival, we returned to a very different scene. Busloads of people were pouring into this tiny village. What was, only days before, a sleepy little village that noticed strangers, was now a bustling party busting at the seams with visitors. Filling the main street and surrounding the long table where all of the food would be served were people from urban areas – wearing their chic, high heal boots, flashy sunglasses, perfect hair and all carrying cameras. They had come to eat and to enjoy a little bit of the mountain life. It was an incongruent scene. Interspersed throughout all of glitzy visitors were the true inhabitants of the village. In their worn clothes, they weren’t hard to pick out. We were already familiar to them, so we received warm smiles and welcomes as we walked down the street.
The priest blessed the food and people kissed the statue of the saint that was carried past the table. The eating began. The saint was honored.
No comments:
Post a Comment