Whirling colors, glinting sunlight.  The melody of conversation, laughter.  Dusty air, sweaty skin, the buzz of large scale festivities.  The images swirl around in my head and come flooding back to me in a colorful rush – my experience of La Feria de Abril.

People had been talking about feria since I got to Sevilla.  “Oh, you like Sevilla?  Well just wait till you see la feria (you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!).  It proved to be more vibrant than anything I imagined.

La feria was originally a livestock trade fair dating back to the mid 1800s.  Tradesmen from all corners came to do business in the classic Adalucían tradition – over tapas, taking their time, forming relationships.  Over a century and a half, it has evolved into a citywide fiesta.  For a full week, an empty lot on the western side of el Río Guadalquivir is built up into a tent city – rows of “casetas,” temporary canvas abodes, give form to the event.  Inside are cash bars, tables, and dance floors.  Most, owned by upper crust families, country clubs, and political parties, are private, invite only.  Others, a little rowdier and a little smellier, are public.

Families of all levels of society come to the feria.  Dressed in their finest, they come to have fun and socialize, to see and be seen.  Despite thousands of paper lanterns and flowers, the women are the most eye-catching ornaments of the affair.  They promenade in traditional flamenca dresses, fitted from the torso through the mid thigh and flaring out in ruffles to the ground.  Flattering the feminine form, they call attention for more than just their bold patterns and loud colors.  The men dress in suits and slick back their hair.  The children dress as mini adults.  Everyone looks snazzy.

My host family had plans to do lunch at their caseta the Friday of feria.  Waking up at 9, I thought I’d have the whole first half of the day to myself.  Little did I know a girlish frenzy would consume the entire morning and land me squarely outside my comfort zone.

Marta, my host mom, is one of three daughters.  Over the years they’ve collected what seems to be a stock pile of flamenca dresses.  I was still groggy-eyed in my pj’s and slippers when Marta tempted me with a game of high stakes dress-up.  Her offer?  She said I could try on a dress…but not just to flit around the house taking pictures.  She said I also had to wear it to the feria, the most populated, public destination imaginable.  In all my extroversion, I have a self-conscious streak, and this dare brought it to the fore.  Mainly, I was nervous I’d be elbowing my way into the tradition of a culture that isn’t mine, making a fool of myself in the process.

But study abroad is the chance to seize opportunities, and that little voice inside finally won out over my nerves.  When again will I be able to wear a traditional dress to Sevilla’s Feria de Abril?  Maybe never.  And with that commenced a flurry of activity.  Finding the right jewelry, pulling my hair back, pinning the shawl at just the right angle.  My anxiety about wearing the dress bled into the excitement of primping and prepping.

And to my surprise, no sirens sounded as I stepped onto the street.  No alarms announced my entrance.  In fact, the effect was just the opposite of what I had expected.  Parading down the street in a red and white polka dot frock with a giant flower secured to the top of my head, I found that I blended in.  Without meaning to, I had become part of the spectacle!

We started out in the family caseta.  Seated around lacy table cloths we dined on rich finger foods and an endless stream of rebujitos – a refreshing drink made of manzanilla and Sprite.  We chatted till we were blue in the face and then, in accordance with traditional feria practice, made way to a different caseta.  We spent our entire day this way, moving from scene to scene.  My favorite stop on the tour was the caseta with all the dancing…

More to come…