Feel The Burn

Today wraps up a 5-day celebration in our town called Old Spanish Days. It's peak tourism season here anyway, so the combination of both means tons of traffic and crowds. In terms of drinkers, it's total amateur hour. Imagine that one friend who doesn't know how to handle their liquor or how to pace themselves, stumbling down the sidewalk wearing an enormous 3 foot sombrero - and increase that by 20,000. It's a shot of gratitude for a girl like me.  

I am usually out of town on vacation during week of Fiesta. Since we were home, I was looking forward to catching some of the festivities for the first time in many years. Funnel cake and midway fair games hardly represent Spanish culture, so most locals generally avoid the mercados. The best place for food is at a local church: pozole, tamales, tacos de birria, churros and horchata. Yes, please!  

I went this year with a group of friends. While we waited in line for tamales, my best friend was telling us about how she had planned fun Fiesta-themed activities at her office each Friday, all month long. Being the helpful friend I am, I offered suggestions:

Me: You could hold a hot pepper eating contest! Tell them if their bowels aren't streaked with blood afterwards, then it wasn't hot enough.

My Best Girl: I'm thinking something more along the lines of a homemade salsa competition. 

Me: Right! Okay. You could make a really hot salsa for the judges to try...and call it, 'Fire Booty.'

My Best Girl: (no response)

*****

Ah, Fiesta. It's a good thing you only come once a year. I'm still finding glitter and confetti from the cascarones all over my car and our house. 

Cascarones! If one of these buggers are cracked
over your head, you can expect to be picking
confetti out of your hair for hours.

Viva la Friends...I mean, Fiesta!
I'm not entirely sure what's
going on with my headband.