And live my rich Saint John!
You make my customers smile.
I'll light the balloon for them
And help them fulfill their dreams!
São João (Saint John). One of the most celebrated and attended popular festivities throughout the country. Celebration officially consecrated to a Saint of the Catholic Church (more precisely, Saint John the Baptist, prophet, contemporary of Jesus Christ, whom he baptized), but originating from pagan festivities, the cult of fertility, in the midst of many good harvests throughout the History of Man. This is the time of the Summer Solstice in the northern hemisphere (which usually occurs between June 20th and 22nd of each year), with which the festival of São João is umbilically linked.
Sao João do Porto. But also from Gaia, Valongo, Vila do Conde and Braga. And from Angra do Heroísmo and Horta in the Azores archipelago. Or Porto Santo in the Madeira archipelago. Or even further south, in Almada, Mértola, Alcácer do Sal and Tavira. Around 34 municipalities across the country will declare their municipal holiday on June 24th. But in many other villages, religious devotion to the Saint is celebrated, or the entry into Summer, or even the fertility of the earth and/or man.
São João of Porto is present in my childhood memories, as a teenager, and as a young or mature adult. I remember the endless walks to Fontainhas, when I was a little boy, holding hands with my Parents, marveling at so many people, so many colors, so many sounds. This at a time when the party was concentrated there, in Ribeira and Avenida dos Aliados... I always remember it as the most “democratic” party I know: everyone in the streets, on foot, from the youngest to the oldest, from poorest in means to the most wealthy, from the poorest in spirit to the most intellectual and rational, married, single, white, black, mulatto, men, women, people of all colors and shapes of an immense rainbow... I remember crowded streets of people, armed with small and large plastic hammers, of multiple colors, with them triggering smiles and laughter, constantly screeching and clanking over thousands and thousands of heads, in a permanent interaction... I remember the lit stoves and the smell of freshly grilled sardines in the air dinner... I remember the balloons of São João, small points of light flying over the sky, once dark, but that night is illuminated with the light of hundreds of 'fireflies' lit by the hand of Man...I remember the fireworks that erupted in the sky at midnight, thundered and fainted over the Douro River (once on Avenida dos Aliados) in a multitude of shapes and colors… In those moments, I remember the little ones who, scared and amazed, snuggled up in their parents' laps and curled up around their parents' legs... And, I still remember, that night ends with everyone returning home. Some right after the fireworks display, others prolonging the night a little longer, still others (the younger ones) venturing out to fulfill yet another tradition of 'the longest night of the year': the walk to the beaches of Foz Douro or Matosinhos. There, in romantic pairs or in groups, they wait by the light and heat of bonfires lit on the sand, for the morning sun to bless them and tell them it is time to return home.
I remember all of this... and tonight, once again, I go out into the street, walk and hammer those who pass me, triggering smiles and laughter.
See you there! See you soon!
Marco Moura Marques
+ 351 967 035 966
marco@mouramarques.pt
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