Santa Catarina Bell Tower (close to home)

Living in the old quarter of Valencia, we hear church bells ringing all the time.  For the most part, I have no idea why and today was no exception, though their ringing was exceptionally vigorous.

I hadn’t even know that today - Jan 22 - was a holiday until a Spanish friend mentioned it in an e-mail a couple of days ago.  That’s what happens when you work from home; you lose touch with your community.  Well, we aren’t in Valencia so that we can spend our lives online so I decided to get to bottom of all of this bell-ringing and time off work.  First stop; the internet!  (I hope that everyone sees the irony there…)

Actually the first stop was a Farmacia de guardia - pharmacies rotate staying open on holidays and at night for emergencies here.  Luckily, there was one near by and Katie and I were able to cope with the flu that came back from school with Oscar, though just barely.  (I kept thinking of the tribes of North America decimated by european illnesses, wondering if our little tribe would succumb to a similar fate.)

Once the Frenadol kicked in and I could almost think again, it was time to find out why the other pharmacies weren’t open and why I had seen so many people ambling about as I made my emergency purchases of medicine, herbal tea and honey, and a surprisingly good (and cheap) portion of take-away tortilla.

As it turns out, the patron saint of Valencia (and of grape-growers in France, Belgium, Germany and Switzerland, and co-patron saint of Lisbon) is San Vicente Martir, somewhat less known in English as Saint Vincent of Saragossa.  After being taken from Zaragoza where he was a deacon, to his Roman prison in Valencia for his religious beliefs, Saint Vincent was martyred for refusing to burn scripture.  He is described as making his refusal, and all of his comments to his captors, in an outspoken and fearless manner.

I can see why he should be a popular saint with the Spanish (over 100 communities in Spain are named after him):  he stuck to his guns, all the way.  One thing that I can say about most people in Spain - they won’t back down from an argument, especially if they are sure they are right, which is just about always.  (I fit right in…)

So, the bells rang out to announce a mass in San Vicente’s honour, which was followed by a procession carrying a silver-plated image of the saint that eventually returned it to the Cathedral. There may have been much more to the experience but my vantage point from the couch, under a blanket, didn’t afford me the opportunity to observe it first-hand.  I’ll have to try again next year.

But there are many, many more fiestas on the way and this flu is almost gone already (knock on wood).  I couldn’t possibly miss them all, so stay tuned…