Our Sant Joan night was calm and subdued in my part of town, an occasional petard interrupting
the soccer match on TV dinner with with my in-laws and complaining of the lone M-80 sounding off in the distance. Sant Joan is my fourth of July celebration here in Catalunya. It makes up for the street celebrations of fireworks I experienced growing up in Southern California. As a young noia, I was always a tad scared as I hid on the porch and watched my brothers use a "punk" to ignite the fuse of a roman candle, sky rockets or the ever terrifying M-80s that made the air tremble and vibrate and seem as if a bomb had been dropped on our street.
I instead felt safer and visually pleased with spraying cascades of sparks erupting from a stationary sappy fountain. More enjoyable than the fountains were the serps twisting and coiling from a single little black tablet, leaving my fingertips black at the touch of the soft powdery coil. My brothers and I would wake up early the next morning looking for unpopped firecrackers left on our driveway or street. I was pleased by the black markings on the street curb and shredded firework paper left on the sidewalk, all signs of a fun night escaping burns and deafness.
So it is known I gaudir celebrations with focs artificials any time of the year. It is relaxing to watch colorful star displays bursting against a darkened sky. I love the crackling sound of pyrotechnic firework displays and the constant explosion of color, galactic bursts and comets streaking the sky green, yellow, red and white.
Guapo bought some roman candles, spinning "star balls," firecrackers (boo), sky rockets, and bengalas that stayed lit for about ten seconds (another boo). Next year, I will make sure I go with him to choose the focs artificials I like (something tells me he was acting the pauper) and ensure we have fountains, strobes, and whistlers, unless we choose to go to the beach and watch what drunken Sant Joan revelers do there. I used my new Nikon camera to photograph the fireworks he bought, and I admit I fumbled a bit with the settings, the tripod, and missed some pyrotechnic displays happening not to far from were we live. Oh well.
|Traditional coca de Sant Joan, a soft flat moist cake eaten on the Eve of St. John.|
|Pernil serrano , tomatoes for pa amb tomàquet, and empanada de atún.|