A week ago, the street fiesta our village holds each June seemed doomed by the elements. An hour before it was to begin, the sky turned an ominous black, the wind picked up and thunder claps echoed down the valley – all signs that an outdoor street fiesta that evening was likely to be a wash-out. In fact, because of the weather, only a few people had turned up, but the usual huge amount of food had already been prepared.
(Note: the men in this family decided to take the car, while the brave women wore rain jackets and marched fearlessly to the fiesta).
We gathered in the street, looking up at the threatening sky and at the people who had come, many of whom were elderly and frail. And the decision was quickly taken to relocate indoors, in the little communal room next to the church at the top of the hill.
(Note: fortunately the men in this family had come by car, so they got to be in charge of moving all the food to the new venue, while the other cars were used to transport the elderly).
(Also note: though it is generally believed that an SUV or similar is required when you live in the country, I drive the tiny vehicle pictured above, which carries us up and down our steep hill perfectly well, and can fit all five of us, so long as we all assume compact yoga positions - sometimes I grab my son's knee instead of the gear shift, but hey! Plus my tiny white car can be parked almost anywhere, including this little spot at the side of the road, millimeters from a steep drop-off).
In the end, the rain never came. But no one noticed, because our little room was loud with happy talk and clatter. When the time came to leave, we emerged into a night glittering with stars, and brilliant with winking fireflies.