Last Saturday afternoon, we took naps.
It was the weekend of the fiesta for San Miguel Arcángel, who's a major celebrity here in San Miguel de Allende, and Travis and I wanted to be fresh and rested for the evening's festivities.
Also, we hadn't got a lot of sleep the night before.
Early Friday evening, cohetes began exploding all over town every couple of minutes and continued throughout the night. Cohetes are like huge bottle rockets, usually shot from concrete cylinders but sometimes right from the hands of the shooters. They whistle as they rise into the sky with their smoke tails, then explode with window-shaking bangs. From a distance, one sees the blast a split second before the concussion of sound arrives, which is physics, of course. Although science seems to have little to do with this particular activity.
This fiesta weekend officially begins with a desfile, or parade, with bands and drums and fireworks and many more cohetes. Apparently, tradition calls for this parade to be a "welcoming of the dawn". Given that the sun rises here around 7:30, I have to wonder why the parade begins at precisely 4 o'clock in the morning. But who am I to question tradition?
Midday, we mustered enough energy to walk up to the Centro Historico where we caught a part of the blessing of the caballeros.


With just a couple of hours before the next parade, we ate a quick bite and headed back for siestas punctuated by only a few explosions now and then. Moderately rested, we set out again on foot toward El Jardin, the main plaza.
We walked up Umaran, a street that parallels Canal street where the parade that starts the evening was already underway. We glimpsed flags waving now and then over the heads of the spectators lining Canal, sitting on walls and edges of roofs and on plastic chairs crowded onto sidewalks. A multitude of bands and drums and marching and dancing feet provided the required cacophany.
As we topped the steep part of Umaran, we came to a dead halt. Ahead of us the street was crammed with spectators. Ahead of them was the parade of dancers and musicians, also at a dead halt, waiting their turns to enter the plaza and perform. We did an evasive maneuver. In the plaza, under the protective countenance of the proud and goofy church tower, was the rest of the population of San Miguel and possibly several other towns.


We wandered as best we could considering the crowd: families with children and grandmas, grinning elderly men, couples walking hand in hand, flocks of teenagers, tourists and locals pointing cameras in every direction. The people were polite, doing their best to let others pass through or climb steps that had become grandstands. Near the church, looming above the dancers, stood the giant skeletons of the castillos.


If you look closely at these Tinkertoys gone mad, you'll see that every spoke and every strut has attached to it something that spews fire. Strings of other fireworks looped up to the highest parts of the church tower. It looked like we were in for a show.
And so we were.
At just past nine o'clock, the first of the three castillos began its extravaganza.



With earsplitting screams, the wheels spun and shot fire in all directions. Smoke filled the air. One after another, the three structures became towers of fire in every color, pouring sparks onto the heads of the fascinated spectators.








As its finale, each castillo set its topknot spinning, fast then slow then fast again until, trailing a blazing torrent of sparks, it left its platform and shot high in the sky for a final dazzling explosion.
Kinda fun, huh?
Thinking all was over, Travis and I were just beginning to look for an invisible path through the crowd when the grand finale began. The church lights had been turned off throughout the castillo show. Suddenly, the church itself blew its top.


Across the plaza, an answering barrage:


As the fireworks finished raining upon the crowd, we slipped away to a nightcap and rest. Because there was more to come.
To be continued...
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