Marín and her secular dance

Gastronomic Roadrunner returns to Marín, where it was born in the most experienced fishing neighborhood in the world, O Cantodarea “You return to Marín whenever you can but less than you want. You leave Marín but you don’t leave it”Marín is a festival for San Miguel and the town becomes the “extension of the soul”, as Manuel Vicent wroteI don’t know why I say that I return to Marín if Marín always goes with me. I was born here, in O Cantodarea, the most seasoned fishing neighborhood in the world, where I forged my sentimental education and my sense of belonging to this horizon. We arrived on the eve of the celebration of the festivities in honor of the patron saint of this fishing village, San Miguel, and the land It welcomes us with warm temperatures so as not to contradict the meteorological myth of summer around the saint.On Friday night, neighboring Pontevedra presents itself with joys for the opening of the weekend.There we meet for dinner at one of its classic restaurants, Alameda 10 , with the mayor of my town, María Ramallo, and her husband, Fran; we are also accompanied by another couple of good friends: Maribel and Pepe Crespo. Food and conversation to feed the night in a comfortable place that brings kindness. ad and the good product as flags.Croquettes and lobster salad, which exceed the remarkable to open menu, and fish main course: grouper and hake with a perfect point of preparation. For dessert, there are a couple of house specialties that mark a sublime moment: an ice cream nougat that Pepe longingly awaited and an unforgettable pear tart. In a Galician restaurant and with half a dozen of them around the table, local wines were imposed, coming from Meaño: an Attis fine lees 2021, with flavors of white and ripe fruit; tasty, very expressive, most pleasant, and a Zárate Caiño Tinto 2020, from one of the 3 native varieties of Salnés, 8 months in barrel, a fresh wine with character, to enjoy. Over the table we review affections, anticipate the big Sunday of San Miguel and listen to details of the next Cocido de Lalín Festival, that enormous gastronomic meeting of international tourist interest. Marín MARÍN CITY COUNCIL A walk along the beaches in its sheltered estuary. It is convenient to maintain customs and enjoy the light and the morning walk along the route of the beaches, without losing face of the sea, that imperturbable sea today with its very smooth skin. You have to go around the Military Naval School, the “university campus” of the town where future Navy officers are trained, to face the section that leads to the first of them, Portocelo, which at this hour and seems empty. a Caribbean landscape frozen in time. How many memories of childhood that, as Caballero Bonald said, “always takes place in summer”. After a small slope and a slight descent, Mogor appears, the second of the sandbanks, flanked by his two picnic areas. A few meters away is the “Mogor Labyrinth”, several dozen rock carvings that tell us about ancient times, they say from 2000 or 3000 BC. C. To know everything there is an interpretation center at its entrance. This labyrinth has occupied the pages of the “Magic Spain Guide” by Juan G. Atienza (Grijalbo, 1983), Sánchez Dragó’s “Gárgoris y Habidis” (Planeta, 1978) and a few radio and television reports by Íker Jiménez. .The walk continues winding the sea until reaching Aguete Beach, the place of memories of the journalist Rafa Latorrre, director and presenter of “La Brújula de Onda Cero” and wake-up rooster of Alsina’s “Más de Uno”. I call him and stimulate his memory: “Nowhere have I been as happy as in Aguete. It is true that it contributed to this that if I was there, it would most likely be summer. Most of my friends went on vacation to the opposite coast, to Sanxenxo, Montalvo or Areas. But what was on the other side of the estuary only interested me at night. It seemed to me a very well-guarded mystery on this side, the one in Aguete, calmer, always native and with people who liked sailing more than having a boat. From the summers in Aguete I remember dining at A Casa do Ruso, at the one we only called Pepa. And go out to sea with my grandfather. Or escape to the beach at night with my sister and friends. It is true that he was a child and that always sweetens memories. Home is the place where you remember yourself as a child. The other is places where you have lived, without more. I still go and not much has changed. I use, I think, the precise word: too much. There is no Pepa, no boat, no grandfather and I’m old enough for the children to be the ones who escape me at night to the beach. People continue to flock to the opposite coast as if hypnotized. Better this way, lest they discover it. I continue my journey towards Loira Beach, of high sentimental value for me for so many summers here. This is a beach made on a human scale, very accessible, with its fishing village surrounding it and its river flowing into one of its banks. Loira has a hill on its western side, Montecelo, the place of so many afternoons with Consuelo and Eugenio, and today supported by Chiruca and Genucho, the kings of this starry site with splendid views over the estuary and the opposite hill, Punta Sobareiro and his legendary warehouse. There is here an undulating light that projects life on things. A reign of happiness. My walk ends here with the permission of the following beaches of the municipality: A Coviña, del Santo and that other fine and infinite sand of Lapamán that no one better describes one of his regulars, the Pontevedra journalist, Xabier Fortes ( La Noche en 24h de TVE): “It continues to retain the same stamp of the early seventies, when we began to colonize it. An impressive forest mass keeps it safe from outside eyes. The tops of the gigantic lime, chestnut and birch trees became palm trees on a Caribbean beach swaying in the wind when we contemplated them from the mats with which we defied the waves”. A traditional walk through the tree-lined Alameda de Rosalía de Castro, the nerve center of the town, and along the remodeled Paseo Marítimo de Antonio Blanco, which opens up views of the estuary, is essential. Life shining on the water. The promenade that shelters the dock of the Naval School leads to a privileged view over the Illa de Tambo, where centuries ago there was a convent in honor of San Martiño. Legend has it that the tomb of Santa Trahamunda, patron saint of morriña, arrived here, that she was kidnapped by the Muslims and taken to Córdoba where she remained for ten years and that miraculously managed to evade her captivity and led by her saudade was able to return to these lands. . Her tomb can be visited in the Monastery of Poio (Pontevedra). The island was military property from the 1940s until 2002, when it was demilitarized, although the Naval School itself is still in charge of its surveillance. Walking is animated by a gentle breeze with iodized and pure airs, in this leisurely contemplation of a still, calm sea, one can “learn music or consciousness” as Neruda suggested. While I stop at the panoramic view of the town I decide to call my countryman, Javier Casal, editor and presenter of the news program Hora 14 (Cadena SER) and talk with him about shared experiences: “You come back to Marín whenever you can but less than you want. From Marin you leave but you don’t leave it. You step on the sand of Aguete and you are once again the little Pichichi, the one in Madrid. You get excited when you pass in front of the Concello building, where my grandfather worked and where Rosa and I got married. At home we are both from Marín, born, raised and proud Marineses. We read García Carragal and Julio Santos. Our family informs us of those things that happen between illustrious nicknames, wild parties and the farewell of old acquaintances who leave us. In the distance, Marín is the time between two summers. You live it in a permanent “do you remember…? “ and the nostalgia of snack time. Every afternoon, together with my father, when we looked out the large window that overlooked the Alameda to talk about football, the weather and also… about Marín”. One of the most celebrated places in the town is “El Parque de los Sentios” , the old farm of the monks of Oseira. The town council bought it in 1999 and it has become a place of relaxation for many marinenses. Recreation spaces, a populated grove, plants, fountains and streams are the elements of this park. There is also a sensory conversation: sight, hearing, smell and touch that go through its different areas. And today a flock of blackbirds singing, is distracted from tree to tree wanting to get our attention. The waters sound and speak in the fountains, those that I eat in which, as Professor Joaquín Araújo says: “you manage to be what you look at”. Park of the sensesMotxinDinner time takes us to the Wünderbar, in the Plaza del Reloj, where its tower announces the hours that sound like punctual greetings of welcome. Amaya and Olaf have made this place a very tidy, welcoming and friendly place; German beers and Cabriz, a Portuguese red from the Dâo accompany our dinner: sausages with sauerkraut, salads and a delicious meat lasagna. This place has made a place for itself in Marine life and its popularity has not stopped growing, such as the uniqueness of Olaf, “the German”, who has already become a highly appreciated character in the town.Dance between swordsEvery day has its new light , this one on the second day of October is very generous. The shining sun brings the message of a summer that seems not to want to leave. Life buzzes around the town hall in the institutional act of delivery of the medals and distinctions of the Padroado de Mareantes de San Miguel, which is responsible for ensuring the ancestral maintenance of a tradition that dates back to the 17th century. Among those distinguished this year is the international bagpiper Carlos Núñez, who for some time has been captivated by the music that accompanies this dance, to the point of being willing to cover it and incorporate it into his new album. In this regard, Carlos has been working with the components of the dance corps and the local producer Trece Amarillo in the production of a video clip. The Sword Dance is one of the 30 white dances that exist in Galicia, its origin comes from the first half from the 17th century in which the seafarers’ guild danced it in honor of their patron. When San Miguel arrives in Marín, he then has to dance, follow her on her journeys and bring back the seafaring memory kept for centuries. The streets are dressed in color to the rhythm of that traditional, rhythmic, catchy music. The dancers dance, the spectators watch and everyone participates in the communion of the magical feeling of things. Marín is a festival and the town becomes the “prolongation of the soul”, as Manuel Vicent wrote. The Dance of Swords While the dancers and bagpipers pass through the streets, Carlos, Manuel Santos, my family and I unfold memories and affections and we are scheduled for next January 14, in which Carlos Núñez will be at the Price in Madrid giving his first concert of the year. Meanwhile, this summer of San Miguel is going around the air. Before lunch he plays an appetizer in another of the emblematic places, O Caixón. Cris and Chicho are a prodigy of sympathy and kindness and they spice up the talk with a wise gastronomic miscegenation: tetilla cheese with anchovies, accompanied by a colleiteiro albariño from Cela, from my good friend Fernando García. Outside, the pyrotechnics of “las madamitas” explode, gunpowder smokes, evil spirits are expurgated, the streets full of people crowded around their saint carried on a litter in the procession with the dancers at their feet. A lyrical and moving testimony. The geometric splendor of the party. In the middle of the afternoon we boarded the Alvia from Vigo bound for Madrid. In the stations I always think that each farewell is a lump in the throat. Our goodbyes and commitments to return soon remain on the platform. Marin leaves with us. Caught from the soul