The San Antonio festival in the “big town” of El Pinar. Against the proud bright blue of the Atlantic, El Pinar rises six hundred metres into the sky, so that it is often hidden by cloud. On a clear day, the brightly painted houses and apple blossoms line cobbled streets in a festival of colour, leading to gardens alternately filled with manicured flower beds and glowing bougainvillea, or piled high with old planks, rusting barrels and outboard motors; even, on one (fortunate or unfortunate, depending on your tastes) occasion, a naked pensioner.
Traditional musicians and dancers lead the procession to the church to receive blessing.
Meanwhile, the surrounding countryside remains indifferent.
We arrived home to discover we had new new neighbours. They train skippers young these days.