Chapter 2: A closer look at Luis

After paying the bill, Luis saunters into a close-by charity shop. Wearing his customary cloth cap, he picks up a few items, bags them and carries on down one of the side streets leading to yet another square. This one is more or less rectangular with a raised section in the centre where a much welcome shade is provided by the four huge laurel trees growing there, one in each corner. They are so old that their roots are beginning to lift the paving stones around their trunks. Surrounded by dwellings and a single bar on three sides, the massive Parish Church completes and dominates the north side.

The church does not interest Luis much, not being overly religious. He has of course had to attend numerous events inside this magnificent building; His own baptism which he does not remember, his first communion which he does remember, having to dress up in a borrowed sailor's suit. And last year’s Easter procession where he was chosen to be one of the seventy-two Portadores or Costaleros to carry the Throne of Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno de Las Torres. The Throne had been enormously heavy and the many hours it took to complete the route had worn him out. The going had been slow, stopping at the sound of the controller's bell to signal a rest. Five rings of the bell to get ready again, one ring to lift and finally one ring to start moving. The Village dignitaries had led the procession carrying ceremonial staffs. The ladies allowed to participate, were wearing tall black lace mantillas secured by large combs. One or two of his fellow Portadores had worn black blindfolds to amplify the experience of suffering. 

Luis sits on the large church steps looking over the centre of the plaza and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine coming in from the west. He is trying not to think of the old Arab Castle at top of the hill, reached by two converging roads, one wide and one narrow leading off opposite corners of the square.

The castle dates back to Moorish times and provides a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside. It is also the site of the Municipal cemetery. Although Luis was born after the Civil War ended, the older generation talking in hushed voices about the atrocities that were perpetrated there, has not escaped his attention. He is also well aware that among the village population, there are certain people who lost relatives during the conflict and certain families whose members may have been part in perpetrating the violent acts. 

Opening his bag of purchases from the charity shop he withdraws a pair of Buddy Holly like dark rimmed glasses and a slim discreetly striped jacket. He removes his cloth cap, dons the classes and jacket and feels ready to face the world and pay tribute to his musical hero.

Slowly walking from lower to upper square a few people stop to look, but he feels safe in his disguise and soon settles down at a pavement table at his favourite west facing bar, "El Moro" overlooking the Town Hall building with its clock giving the wrong time as usual.

"What can I get you?" the waiter asks, not recognising Luis without his cloth cap. Luis orders a Café con leche. This is unusual for Luis as he likes a beer or a glass of red wine.

He sits and watches as the villagers starts to emerge after their midday siesta. Slowly at first, but as the sun goes down it is still pleasantly warm for a February afternoon, the late sun warming the facades on the east side of the square where Luis is sitting, looking he hopes as an reincarnation of Buddy Holly. Soon many of them will be going back to work as the workday is normally broken into two parts; nine to two and five to nine for non-office workers, six days a week while office and public employee workers normally only work eight to two five days a week. Something to strive for, but Luis has never had the urge to live the regulated if easy life of a functionary employed by the regime.

Luis is a good hearted dreamer who can never do enough for his friends. He will spend his last peseta to help if he can. A non-malicious practical joker he is well regarded by his peers.

His Carnaval companions begin to emerge from various side street directions. Not one is fooled by his disguise, knowing this joker too well. 

Daniel arrives first and in his usual generous way, offers to buy a round. Luis opts for a quinto. As is his custom, he picks out one of the thin paper serviettes from its holder and cleans the top of the beer bottle which sometimes accumulates a bit of rust or dirt from the metal top. A Quinto is a popular size, a fifth of a litre, the same as a caña. Spaniards prefer this small size of beer, as it can be finished long before it gets warm. And of course one can have so many more without getting drowsy.

Soon all six are present and they shoot the gentle breeze of the late afternoon. Still mourning the death of their heroes but appreciating Luis's tribute, the talk soon moves on to other matters.