La Mercé: Part 3

   And then, the city literally exploded. The "Correfoc" parade in Barrio Gótico (Gothic Quarter) was like walking into a war-zone. Three blocks away, we heard what sounded like gunshots and grenades, echoing among screams and what sounded disturbingly similar to an invading army. At this point, I probably should have turned away, but instead, I reminded myself how much Call of Duty I had played before coming to Spain, and I pushed onward. As we approached the battlefield of some seemingly innocent parade, the shrieks and surprised cries of fear (or joy?)  grew louder, until the gunshots became deafening and we could see flashes of light, accompanied by sparks flying into the crowd, chasing the fleeing, unprepared tourists back toward McDonald's. We shoved our way in to the hordes of frantically retreating families, closer and closer to the 'hot zone.' I then remembered that I left my modded AK-47 on the Xbox, along with my re-spawns back at home in Davis. Again, at this point I should have turned back, but I did not. I decided that I was going into this war empty-handed, or at least without my trusted x-box controller, blindingly fast internet connection, and liter of Mountain Dew.

   In reality, it was not a warzone, but a very life-like re-enactment of hell's gate unleashing it's demons on Barcelona. Descending from the "Devil's Ball" from the middle ages, Correfoc is a short break from a weekend of celebrating Merced, where a symbolic parade of people dressed as demons irresponsibly play with fireworks and shoot more fireworks out of giant demon-floats. Symbolically, it meant to separate the good from the evil, and was meant to pacify the demons by letting them out for a brief night of debauchery, danger, and a serious set of fire hazards before sending them back to Hell. Here is a picture of the 'demons.'

 

   Well, we finally pushed our way through the crowd and into an empty space. The smell of burnt gun powder lofted through the settling smoke and dust, while the onlooking civilians parted for us. For a brief second, it became eerily quiet. I turned around to ask my friend why everyone had parted around us, and upon turning back, I met the mischievous grin of a 'demon,' staring directly into my eyes. At this point, I realized that we had pushed our way into the procession of demons, where the fireworks had been exploding, and where most of the people had been avoiding. I realized this, not because I was getting stared down by a grown man in what looked like a poorly made child's Halloween costume (something to fear in and of itself), but because this same man was holding two lit roman candles, one in each hand, and staring at me intently. 

   I should take a brief pause to mention that when I was little, I was not allowed to play with fire, much less even listen to the song "fire" by Bruce Springsteen. Matches and lighters were off-limits, easy tickets to 'time-out,' so I avoided them like the plague. Originally, it was probably because my parents feared that I would burn down the house, but in that split second while getting eye-probed by a demon, I realized why my parents emphasized fire safety in our household.

   To summarize, when one of those Roman candles exploded inches from my feet, with a team of Catalunyan demons danced around me, I was slightly more than startled; I damn-near shit myself. The blatant disregard for basic fire safety alone scared me,  in addition to the fire, loud noises, and grown men in costumes.

   At that point, I was stunned. It turns out, flash bang grenade-fireworks can be pretty disorienting. But, thanks to my firm grasp of advanced tactical combat maneuvers from a few dozen hours of Call of Duty, I prepared for the upcoming attack. Like a true soldier, I took my camera out and proceeded to take more pictures than a sorority girl at a Toby Kieth concert. If I were going to risk my life, or at least 2nd degree burns, I was going to at the very least get a great profile picture out of it. Disoriented, ears ringing, and desperately needing a new pair of pants, I took the following pictures.

 

It turns out, that after shooting fireworks at broke, innocent, and curious American students, the demons then shoot more fireworks into the crowd through giant demon floats, as you can see in the pictures below.

I am going to wake up in night sweats about this one.

 

On a brief side-note, we learned how you should dress for an event like this.  Joey dressed like this;

 And then the locals and veterans dressed like this;

So that they can go up to the demons and dance with them like this;

I am shocked and appalled at the complete and utter lack of respect for fire safety.

Yes, you are correct, that would be a dragon puking fire onto a group of innocent girls trying to take a picture. If I could describe the looks on their faces 2 seconds after this picture was taken, I would probably use the word 'crispy' or maybe a combination of works like, 'lacking eyebrows.'

And there it is, the elusive Facebook profile picture that put my eyebrows and facial hair greatly at risk. I could finally get out of there. A few minutes after this was taken, we squeezed our way  back onto a crowded metro and watched some incredible fireworks (piromusical) accompanied by some American and Catalunyan music. It was hard to get a good view, or a good picture for that matter.

Needless to say, the fireworks and closing ceremony lit up the sky in a fashion very similar to what I imagine the apocalypse to look like. Barcelona would be the city to have a fire works show like that...

The fireworks took place on avenida Reina Maria Cristina, a street leading from Plaza España, up through fountains to the National Palace of Catalunya, resting at the bottom of Mont Juic and the olympic stadium. Now an art museum, the palace overlooks the entire city of Barcelona, and during that fire work show, I could only think about how great 4th of July fireworks would look here. Then, after fireworks and the closing ceremonies had ended, in true Barcelona fashion, a massive crowd, reminding me of some Haj-like spectacle, prevented us from going home, or moving more than 2 feet in any direction.

     Finally, after four days and four nights and a combined total of 96 hours of dancing, playing with fire, admiring Catalunyan culture, and not sleeping, we made it home. Luckily, I live about 5 blocks away from this spot, so thankfully, I didn't have to get back on the metro. After some great Chinese food, and the realization that I had homework due in a few hours on Monday morning, I gracefully ended my La Mercé weekend. Overall, I had a great time, and seeing what seemed like the entire city of Barcelona outside, celebrating their city and culture, was quite the impressive sight. After living in Barcelona for a month, I'm starting to finally see why some consider this city to be the best in the world. If it weren't for the lack of fire safety, I think it might have the potential to be better than my hometown of Campbell, California. Just maybe.

Word of the Day: Loco(a) - Crazy

La Mercé fue loca. La Mercé was crazy.