FISHY stuff is going on around Spain tonight. Black-clad processions and gigantic papier mâché sea creatures on wheels, huge bonfires, public feasts, live music, fireworks and, in some cases, partying until dawn. We know about eating fish on Good Friday, but the pre-Lent carnivals and, in the Anglo-Saxon world, the Shrove Tuesday pancake feast, was only last week. And in any case, why aren't they edible fish, or fish left to their own devices in the river or sea, and why are they going up in flames?
Towns and cities which hold a week-long carnival celebrate the Entierro de la Sardina ('Burial of the Sardine') on the last day, and those whose carnivals are a one-night-only affair usually hold this apparently-bizarre ritual a week later.
Except they're not buried, they're cremated.
Why would half of Spain hold a late-night funeral for a fish? Does this mean next week will bring a memorial mass for chips, or a wake for fried eggs? Also, why does everyone seem to be enjoying themselves so much in a mourning march?
You've probably figured, if you've spent any time in Spain, that many of its fiestas are based loosely on a saint or biblical theme – so loose is the base, in fact, that it's practically fallen off in 99% of cases. Every town and even neighbourhoods within towns have their patron and, when this patron's name comes up on the calendar, fiestas in their honour hit the streets. We hope the Virgin Mary, Saints Peter, Paul, John and Joseph, and Christ himself, appreciate the open-air pop-up bars and outdoor discos and public paellas and, if they were still alive today, would give a speech or two and join in the fun.
So it stands to reason that there's an excuse for a fiesta somewhere that involves a fish. The feeding of the 5,000, maybe? Or maybe not, because the bread bit is missing, and the fish was dished up for supper, not thrown on a bonfire.
Read more at thinkSPAIN.com