Spring is the season for extraordinary festivals throughout Spain and France. Two that are historic also are at the edge of extinction.
The Spanish festival of La Maya, or the May Girl, dates to the 1600s but is disappearing rapidly, perhaps because it is complicated and takes a lot of preparation to put on.
The gypsy festival of Les Saintes Maries de la Mer on the Mediterranean coast of France also is hundreds of years old but is becoming so overcrowded that it soon could become no longer enjoyable.
La Maya
By chance we were in Colmenar Viejo (population 35,000), 40 miles northwest of Madrid last May 2. The churro shop was jammed with locals and the main plaza full of musicians, vendors selling huge balloons shaped like dragons or panda bears, as well as booths offering handicrafts, toys, local hams, nuts, honeys and flowers.
Against one wall of the church a dozen men, women and children were building a small altar. Across the plaza, a second group was building another. And three more were being constructed on a side street. These were the flower-strewn altars in which the five Mayas, or May girls, would sit later in the afternoon.
Luis Miguel, the father of Inmaculada (Inma), one of the Mayas, explained the process.
Each year five or six girls age 13-15 are selected to participate. They spend months preparing the appropriate dresses, shawls and other adornments. Then the day before the May 2 celebration they and their families go into the countryside to cut branches and a dozen varieties of spring flowers.
On the morning of May 2, they begin constructing the altars in which each May girl will sit. First they attach a rich embroidered cloth to the wall as a backdrop. Around it they affix the branches, interwoven with flowers. A large table is placed in the center and covered with a white tapestry. A chair, in which La Maya will sit, is placed on it. Brightly colored fresh flowers are strewn around the surrounding area.
As we watched them work, Inma looked like any other teenager. Soon, however, she would transform herself. Dressed in a long white frock with a shawl around her neck, a crown of flowers and necklaces, she would reappear at 4 p.m. and take her place on the throne. Then she and the other four Mayas would sit for two hours on their respective thrones, silent and serious. They are not allowed to smile, talk, move or make eye contact during this period.
Each Maya has five or six younger attendants who also wear long dresses with shawls around their necks and flowers in their hair. They work their way through the crowds with a clothing brush in one hand and a small silver platter in the other. After brushing your clothing, they collect coins to offset the cost of the fiesta.
At 6 p.m. the festival ends, the Mayas descend from their thrones, stretch and sip hot chocolate. Their young attendants gather around them. Next year several of these young attendants will have their turn. They already are talking about their dresses and shawls and what they will wear.
Les Saintes Maries de la Mer
This tiny coastal town near the mouth of the Petit Rhone River in Provence is the site of a legend.
It is said that Mary Salome, mother of the apostles John and James, fled Judea after the crucifiction of Jesus. With her was Mary Jacobe, the aunt of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and Sarah, their Egyptian servant.
Their boat washed ashore at what is now the village of Les Saintes Maries de la Mer. Mary and Sarah remained in the town while the others went inland and set up other churches.
Sarah then became the patron saint of Europe’s Gypsies, or Romanies. Since the 16th century they have been making a spring pilgrimage to this village to honor her. Many arrive weeks in advance, setting up camp with their large white vans (they used to come in brightly painted, horse-drawn carriages). The festival always takes place on May 24 and 25.
On May 24, after much singing, a procession forms to carry the statue of Sarah from the crypt of the church, Notre Dame de-la-Mer, through the streets and into the Mediterranean. Manitas de Plata (Little Hands of Silver), the gypsy guitar player and spiritual founder of the Gypsy Kings, is its leader.
Local horsemen or “gardiens’ on white horses ride at the front of the procession, wearing dark hats and jackets, flowered shirts and carrying the long poles that they use to herd cattle. The most dramatic moment is when they ride out into the sea, then turn to form a protective circle as the procession behind them enters the water.
The procession itself is a jam of people, singing, cheering for Sarah, bumping and splashing in the chilly water.
On May 25, there is a second procession as the statue of two Marys in a small boat is carried from the church, through the town and into the water.
These celebrations are accompanied by days and nights of singing and dancing, striking looking young gypsies from throughout Europe and a gypsy market selling everything from kitchen wares to souvenirs of the great gypsy flamenco singer, Camar n de la Isla. One afternoon a French-style bullfight is held in which the bulls are neither killed nor harmed.
Manitas de Plata is a key figure in all this. Born Ricardo Baliardo in 1921, he had to panhandle to survive as a child but later played his guitar to packed houses all over the world, including Carnegie Hall a dozen times. With his wispy, billowing hair, gold chains, dark wrap-around glasses, flowered shirts, sharply pressed black or cream colored suits and a huge key chain in his left hand, he holds court in front of the church, surrounded by women begging him for a kiss or signature.
Unlike La Maya, there’s no danger that this festival will die out. Its problem is the opposite – popularity. Will it become too crowded?
We’ve attended for the past three years and plan to go again this year. I wonder, however, if the crowds eventually will strip it of its wonderful charm.
Morgan Smith of Denver, longtime active in Colorado government, lives part time in Spain.
