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La Cala Feria 

It's the village festival this weekend. The village is filled with the techno-thumping sounds of the bumper-car music. For four days they are here: food and kitsch for sale, shooting games and a ferris wheel and spinning rides. There's a tent with long tables and a fire pit where dusky men burn large pieces of animal - lamb or goat? Who can tell.

We sat in the tent next door, where they know us. A tired but cheerful woman drops off a jug of beer every few minutes. We staved off the alcohol with olives and ham and morcilla. They put platters out for everyone to share from. We tried everything, including a plate of chopitos, which we ordered simply because no one knew what it was. We received something that looks like tiny pieces of deep-fried squid.

(Once home, I check the diccionario and discover that is exactly what chopito means: baby squid)

The fair keeps going until the morning. The first night we stayed until 4am before trudging up the hill to fall into our beds. After that, the thrill is gone. A piece of coconut, a quick browse through the handbags to see if there is anything nice. Just one quick sherry in the dance tent and then home again - until next year.
 

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