Wine Stains

The Spanish it seems can throw a wicked party. Here in Haro once a year they have a party unlike any other. Yes, I know, live music and alcohol until late aren't exactly rarities, but the atmosphere, the friendliness, the anticipation, I've never seen it matched. And as for the ridiculous wine fight the following day... Brilliant !

Haro is a pretty town in northern Spain that attracts people from all over the world. People who are there to have a great laugh. Sitting in the main square listening to the live music from the stage and also from the occasional wandering bands, we found ourselves shaking hands and talking to citizens from all over the World. No politics, no barriers. Everyone was friendly. 

The majority are dressed in white as they prepare for the following days activities. It may be 12 hours away but there is a fair bit of socialising, singing and dancing to be done. 

Pacing myself was key. Difficult when bottles of Rioja wine are only 7 euros and the party is rocking. 

Silliness levels rising as night falls. Further increases in silliness as the clock approaches midnight...

Cheesy music keeps the die hards going through the early hours with Grease, Nelly the Elephant and Abba. 

Whilst some drifted off to grab a few hours sleep, those of a more determined nature soldiered on as dawn broke. 

Finally, at 8am, with many returning bleary eyed to link up once more with the party, it stopped. Brass bands led the crowd down the hill. A fleet of tractors, trailers, people dressed in white hanging out of cars and a fleet of coaches. With horns blazing and raucous Spanish singing people filed on to the coaches for a short trip through the vineyards. 

There was a short walk up the road, a steady stream of excited people and vehicles. 

At the top of the hill, a group of white robes people with buckets, back packs and liquid sprayers. White t shirts immediately ruined in the name of fun. 

Many had water pistols. Some just picked up plastic containers and emptied them over complete strangers. Rioja stings the eyes when somebody empties a bucket load over your head. 

As we walked away, drenched in Rioja, there was still crowds winding their way up the hill to be doused themselves. The fight goes on for several hours. 

I was broken. No sleep, a steady flow of wine all night and now squelching my way down the hill in soggy clothing. 

John provided the lift back. His poor mini struggling with 4 large males and sodden clothing. The tyres rubbed on the wheel arches. 

Bed. In the heat of midday I slept. Perhaps I should have drunk water first, I was very dehydrated. Too tired though. A brilliant, brilliant event but I was going to regret it...