La Mercè Festival
Reading B2
La Mercè Festival
by Adrian Jacobs
Last September, I attended the La Mercè festival in the city of Barcelona, Spain, with my family. I’d never been to the city before and was looking forward to spending a few days there. After checking in to our hotel, we wandered into the centre for our first look around the city I’d heard so much about. With the festival already in full swing, the footpaths were crowded, making it challenging to move with any speed around the sights. It was nothing I hadn’t been warned about and we were in no rush. I could barely take my eyes off the beautiful old buildings as we walked along. All that fascinating history: I imagined all the stories the buildings would be able to tell if they had a voice. Traffic buzzed round us, filling the air with sounds of beeping horns, adding to the atmosphere.
The first event we attended was the building of ‘human towers’. Different teams competed to create the tallest tower of people by standing on each others’ shoulders. Then the youngest member of each group climbed up the outside to the very top. I gazed in awe at the height of the towers. They made it look easy but what an incredible amount of practice and teamwork the activity must need. Now and then, a tower would collapse to the gasps of the onlookers. The teams had clearly prepared for this eventuality, though, and caught each other easily. We stood and watched for ages, transfixed.
Next was the parade of the ‘giants’, where huge brightly painted figures were carried through the streets representing different neighbourhoods of the city. Kings and queens dressed in historical costumes hovered over the crowds, spinning and dancing in pairs to the tunes played on ancient instruments by bands of musicians. Children stared in wonder, their faces lighting up when they spotted a favourite character – that was a magical thing. I soon abandoned any attempt at filming the procession; it was far better just to store the images away in my memory instead.
That evening we saw what, for me, was the highlight of our whole trip: the ‘fire run’. Another parade, but this one was a procession of huge five-breathing beasts – again, brightly painted – which were carried along the road, showering the spectators with sparks from fireworks attached to them. Spectators are advised to cover up as protection, but there’s no real danger. Even so, I decided to stand well back away from it! It was an incredible sight and must have been great fun to participate in. The fire lit up the spectators in the darkness and I recognised my own feelings of happiness on their faces. I snapped away with my camera, but when I looked at my pictures the next day, I’d just recorded a blur of movement.
Over the next couple of days we saw everything from a kite flying competition at the beach to an aerobatic show, sampled local specialities in seaside cafés and sang and (line 52) danced in the city’s numerous squares. All too soon it was the last night of the festival. Together with thousands of other people, we stood ready to watch the final event: the closing of the festival with a magnificent fireworks display. It was as fantastic as all the other events had been and I knew that even if I never came back again, I’d go home having made the most of the celebrations I’d so longed to see, and having gained an insight into another culture.