Feria de Aceit(unas)

Another day in Spain… another holiday! Tuesday was a celebration of the completion of the new Spanish Constitution in the post-Franco era. Today, Thursday, is a celebration of Imaculada, the mother of Christ, honoring how she conceived her child without having sex. At this point I’m not too concerned with school, so my priorities and energy are more focused on soaking up the last few days here in Spain. And today was all about soaking it up- with oil.

Today was the final day of the “Feria de Aceitunas” in Martos, which is about 30 minutes outside the city of Jaén. Bernadette and Lyssa and I got up early and caught a train to Jaén, and then transferred to a bus to Martos to see what the celebration was all about. 

As it turns out, however, it wasn’t as much of a celebration of aceitunas (olives) as it was a celebration of aceite (olive oil). The information we found online, like most information found online about Spain, didn’t say anything about the starting time, so we figured we would go on the earler side and have lunch and wander a bit. When we got there at 11, however, it was completely dead, and apparently was not scheduled to start until 1:30.

Luckily there was a lovely terrace at a café nearby that overlooked the mountain of Martos, so we sat and enjoyed the breakfast we never ate before leaving home while waiting for the time to pass. We also met two German exchange students from Jaén who were also at the Feria for the day, so the five girls hung out and drank coffee in the sun before hitting the exposition. 

Beautiful view from the terrace

Is it ever too early for beer in Spain? Also: note the mullet

The so-called Feria wasn’t exactly a Feria, though. It was more of a massive crowd of elderly people shoving in line to get their envelope with their piece of bread and water bottle and charge to a table to soak it with aceite. We asked why there were no young people, with the exception of the “Reigna de Aceitunas” and her two runners-up, and one woman was nice enough to explain that all the able-bodied people are out picking olives in the fields as fast as they can. It does make sense, particularly after taking the train for an hour and a half through olive tree-covered hills, but I hadn’t exactly thought it through prior to today.  Then again, I didn’t know when olive-harvesting season was either…

Reigna de la Feria de Aceitunas and her runners-up

After struggling in line and finally getting our bread in envelopes, we thoroughly stuffed ourselves with bread and aceite. There was a small bag of olives (ten, maybe less) inside the envelope, but nothing compared to what I was expecting. It’s a Feria de Aceitunas, not a Feria de Aceite! Oh well, it was still a great day, and I’m fine with buying my stock of olives to bring home for my tapas party elsewhere. 

Bernadette and Lyssa

By the time I got home this evening it was pretty late, and I’ve just been going through photos and trying to organize myself a bit before the packing madness hits. Maricarmen asked when I wanted Paki to bring my suitcases to my room. ¿What? ¿Que? Her question took me by surprise, but I guess its reality at this point. Its bittersweet, but I really need to start packing for home!