Then a statue of the virgin lurched closer and closer, in time to the
drum-driven push of the feet of her bearers. Her face was of serenest
porcelain. Her robes were pink and blue and gold. She was the hope of
innocence, forgiveness and rebirth, rising above all this deathly shame
and guilt.
As she approached, an old woman took half a step forward away from our little crowd huddled under the massive curving wall. She took half a step and a step out into the path of the virgin. She raised her arms and started to sing a song of praise to Maria - a faena that cut through the thickest air and soared up, up to the virgin's crown and quavered there. It was a song that caught us in that place of dark fear and delicious forbidden terror and called us back to the light.
After the parade we went to a restaurant in the shadow of the immense castle walls. It was famous for its suckling pig. And although Mercedes and Irma had fish, Pilar tossed custom aside and joined me, the protestant, in pork. The suckling pig was delicious - I think my whole life I had imagined eating one - the experience was slightly marred because I had the pig's cheek, with the eye still in it, on my plate. Pilar insisted on exchanging plates with me.
Other memories jogged by this photo. Further memories. This Photo. All the Photos
Trail - America
Drink
Photos in Chronological Order
Map/Diagram of Story Elements