Hang on

The Firo hit Soller and the Port like a friendly storm. We wandered around the square in the morning, all dressed up, AKHF included (she was my secret guest) and then met with a few friends. What felt like a cheeky beer (sun well over the yard arm though) gave us the will to grab the tram to the port, six children in tow. The bangs, sparks and delicious stench of caudite were slightly less overpowering there and we got right to the front of the battle scene. "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty" = ice cream worked a treat and then a taxi seemed a great way to get back home. After a cup of tea and a literal recharging of batteries, Agu joined us in the square for the final battle.

This guy did a brilliant job, twitching horrifically realistically and then stayed motionless for at least 15 minutes, whilst the battle raged about him.

I hope I've not shocked you with this image. This year the Firo was safer than ever and full of fun. Although it is a reenactment of a battle in 1561, there is no sense of retained anger or racism. It is about a town that works and sticks together with joy and comradeship. There are playful skirmishes and a lot of drinking, but the mark of battle, some black greasepaint, is spread with loving embraces. Strangers laugh together and old friends cry together, It is a marvellous fiesta, alarming to some outsiders, and certainly deafening, but a big reason to love living in this wonderful place.

Visca Firo! Visca Soller! Visca Mallorca!

By the way, I'm hanging on in there. Have a great week.