“What on earth will you do in winter?” Many of our friends worried about that when we first announced our relocation to Mallorca over twenty years ago. I think they seriously imagined us shivering by frozen swimming pools, clutching frosty lilos whilst waiting for the sun to shine again! Little did they know, through shallow ignorance, that Mallorca is not simply a summer holiday destination, but an independent, culturally rich enclave of opportunity, awash with island heritage, showcasing a wealth of diverse gastronomy, music, art, and local tradition along with a plethora of fiestas which actually don’t come into play until the winter months kick in, and all the tourists have long gone home. Phew!
Personally, I’m just getting over the Christmas feasting, explosive New Year frolics and the symbolic celebration of The Kings, so am eagerly looking forward to a quiet respite where I can sit back and re-charge the batteries whilst finishing off the last of the Ferrero Rocher. But hey ho! no such luck! This is Mallorca with their unquenchable thirst for a popping party, so I am currently embracing the fiery fiestas of St Antoni, blazing across the island (best to check exact dates locally, as celebrations tend to vary, day to day, depending on where you live).
St Antoni’s ‘Fiesta of Fire’ ignites extra early in some locations, with the first flames flaring in Sa Pobla as early as 7th January, usually lasting the entire month. Historically, the fiestas of St Antoni are catalogued as the most revered celebrations in Sa Pobla’s annual calendar, and the very first place I ever witnessed the illuminated event.
Back then, without any previous experience of demonis and flaming fire runs, I found the entire experience absolutely exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. All those dancing flames, dizzy firework explosions and screaming catherine wheels spinning aloft above the crowds on swirling, whirling sticks were a vision directly from the heart of Hades. A tad dangerous, some might whisper, which could easily send any UK Health and Safety officer heading for the hills. But hey! This is Mallorca, so you must cast caution to the wind and take your life in your own hands when you attend these fiery fiestas.
Sant Antoni is revered by many and considered the most popular Saint in Mallorca, if not the entire Balearic archipelago. But who was this sainted man who apparently never set one solitary sandal on these island shores!
Born 251 AD in Koman, Upper Egypt, it was not until the year 272 AD that Antoni actually committed his life to God, seeking sanctity in the solitude of the vast, Libyan desert to contemplate his undying faith. It is commonly reported that visions of sexual seduction, driven by the Devil himself, distracted young Antoni who aborted such temptations of the flesh by strolling across burning coals. Ouch! I suppose he could easily have just slapped himself across the hairy ankles with a wet flannel, but then we wouldn’t have the Fires of Abstinence to celebrate, would we?
Sant Antoni is often depicted with a small piglet champing at his heels, giving credence to local legend that he was also blessed with the gift of miraculous healing. (rumour regales that he once restored a blind piglet’s eyesight, earning his honoured reputation as Patron Saint to Animals).
This sublime act of faith is also remembered and celebrated each year at the ‘Beneides’ (animal blessings) demonstrated across the island during the Sant Antoni festivities. These traditional blessings are heart-warming events, with animals and pets ceremoniously paraded past local churches to receive benediction from a priest. It’s the sweetest, touching and most intimate tradition, often involving a pageant of cheery floats, and sometimes including a few pink piglets in prams that not only receive huge ooohh’s and aaahh’s from the crowds, but connect the pig reference back to Saint Antoni.
I remember some years ago, we visited a ‘Beneides’ parade in Muro. There were rows of chairs laid out, very close to the roadside, lining the imminent route. We took seats in a prime position with feet nestling gingerly curbside. Then we saw more elevated seats positioned a little further back and though the higher option might offer a more panoramic view. Thankfully, we changed.
Once comfortably seated, the parade of animals began. As Muro is rich in bullfighting history the event was planned to conclude with a few young bulls passing by. I imagined a couple of cute calves trotting past with ribboned horns. Wrong! About twenty juvenile bulls (which looked full size to me) came charging down the road like rhinos, thundering past only inches from the feet of those roadside seats we chose to evacuate - a lucky escape. No-one was injured, yet knees were swiftly drawn to chests at alarming speed! We laugh about it now, but hey ho, this is Mallorca where anything goes.
Saint Antoni reportedly died in 356 AD at the ripe old age of 105. Not bad for someone whose main diet was supposedly bread and water. Had he actually come to Mallorca I’m sure he would have tried a ‘pa amb oli’ and probably thrived to a staggering 200!
Happy Fiestas!
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