Carnival in Badajos

Nations are only a train ride apart, that too, a four hour one! Badajos is on the Lisbon – Madrid railway close to the Portuguese border. From Mação we make a rough diagonal to the South East, cutting across first the river Tagus and then the Guadiana. The Guadiana presently divides Badajos into two.

Carnival in Badajos was Lolo and Boris’s suggestion. Lolo is a student of journalism in the University of Extremadura in Badajos. As for me, I could be anywhere but in Mação. I had absolutely no idea of what it was to be in a carnival. Thankfully Dani alerted me to the simple rules like “if you don’t wear a costume to the carnival, you are asking for trouble”.

So off we went to the Chinese store in Mação. (Mação has two to Chinese stores and it is they who bring festivals to the little village- Halloween, Carnival, Christmas, all custom made and at your service). But in Mação, even a Chinese store has its limitations. Three of us, Dani, Ariana and me, ended up purchasing identical geisha costumes! Boris was to be in his usual Asterix self and from Andre’s plastic bag the tip of a white- feathered wing popped out. The self-styled Angel Lewin was to wear a colourful plume on his head with his snowy white wings.

Badajos

Badajos has a population of about 1,50,000. Believe me, any figure over 10,000 positively thrills me now... As we approached the Spanish border the landscape turned into gently rolling grassland of a bright parrot green from the yellow- green rough terrain we left behind. Lolo who had reached there the day before had warned us of incessant rains...

At the first sight, the Spanish town looked much the same as the towns in Portugal I have been to. Except that, the sign boards had a bit too many ‘y’s. Then I could feel an accumulating excitement in the air. Was it just the carnival? Or, is this how the Spanish air is, always?

The afternoon streets were deserted and all the shops closed. The town was taking a siesta

The town was floating in the heat. It was almost two. At that hour, weighted down by drowsiness, the town was taking a si-esta. The stores, the town offices, the public school were closed at eleven, and didn't reopen until a little before four. The houses...had their doors locked from in-side and their blinds drawn... (from ‘Tuesday Siesta’)

Well, there was no sweltering heat and it was raining cats and dogs. But still the town sleeps for three hours. From 2:30 to 5:30. Everyday...

The ruins...

Badajos is crowned by the ruins of a Moorish fort that overlooks the Guadiana. The city was founded by Ibn Marwan in the late 9th century and it remained the capital of a small Moorish kingdom until the first half of the 13th century. As a frontier fortress Badajos had a bloody history with a succession of sieges extending right up to the nineteenth century. The citadel of Alcazaba is the largest surviving example of its kind of Arab architecture in Spain. This 12th century monument was raised over the defensive enclosure built by Ibn Marwan. (In Europe one has to redefine the expectation of grandeur that one carries from home. Here dimensions are small and narratives large. Alcazaba has smaller proportions than our Bekal fort).

We spent our afternoon among the ruins of the fortress... walking in and out of the three main gates and among the numerous towers. Additions and deletions were made over the structure over the centuries. A cross rises over the dome of the main mosque, since the thirteenth century. Currently Alcazaba also houses many of the buildings of the University of Extremadura.

The mighty fortress which has withheld periodic offenses over the centuries stands completely defenceless to the modern day violations. Wild flowers and graffiti have claimed its walls and piles of garbage, its niches. And over the towers, perched in their nests, storks rest till it is time to deliver newborns all around the world (the European world).

It is getting a bit too long. I guess the Carnival can wait...