Wednesday, August 16, 2006


Saturday we drove to San Martín de Luiña for its mercado vaqueiro, where each year the townspeople evoke their agricultural past in clothing and cuisine. We encountered a sly priest, who never strayed far from the stand selling home-brewed spirits, a couple of hapless guardia civil, and some roving minstrels. All were jolly except for a solitary drummer, who--no matter where we found him--never lost his scowl.

1 comment:

rws said...

If I had to wear that outfit, I might be scowling too.