We baptized Ian this past Sunday, June 9, 2013. Personally, I don’t believe that splashing some water on a baby means anything at all, but some people I care about do, so I was happy to participate, especially since it meant having a big party to celebrate the birth of my son, something I do feel very happy and celebratory about. It was the very first mass I’ve attended in the town church that has been ringing its bells next to my house for the past eight years.
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Where I grew up, there weren’t any church bells that I could hear from my house, but there was one in the center of town near the municipal recreation center, where I spent many hours of my youth. As a kid, I became quite fond of that Big Ben tune that preceded the hourly chimes.
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The church in Colindres is really not very attractive on the outside. It’s a simple red brick structure that, if you didn’t notice the iron cross at the top of the bell tower or the big banner of El Papa hanging on the front, you wouldn’t know it was a church. In fact, just the other day, as I was walking by it, a car pulled up to the curb and the driver said, “¿Dónde está la iglesia?” Giving possibly the best driving instructions ever, I reached out and touched the building to identify its location.
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For years now, I’ve been told what a shame it was that I’ve been missing Maritxu (mar-EE-choo). Maritxu is a huge party in Mondragon held on the first Friday of October. Since moving to Spain 2.5 years ago, I’ve been out of the country for Maritxu in both 2005 (golfing in Scotland) and 2006 (New York City).
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