Independence Day, Spanish Style

Yesterday was the 2^nd of May. To us Americans, this doesn’t mean much, besides the fact that it’s the day after May Day, (which is mostly a European celebration) and three days before Cinco de Mayo (which is a Mexican holiday). But here in Spain, not only does it mark the day after Labor Day, and therefore a day off (at least this year, since it fell on a Friday and Spaniards will always take Friday off if Thursday is a holiday), but, (and here’s where I’m finally getting to the point), it’s also Independence Day.

This year was particularly special because May 2, 2008 marked the bicentennial of the start of the War of Independence against the Napoleonic troops that were invading the peninsula, a war that was begun right here in Madrid. Two hundred years ago, after seeing their king escorted out of the city by French troops the day before, the pueblo of Madrid decided it’d had enough. Men, women and children stood up with whatever weapons they had and showed the military they were ready to fight. For the first time, Spain came together as a nation and fought against the invading power to protect its own liberty. Granted as soon as they won the war and brought back King Fernando VII, he plunged them into a seven-year period of absolutist rule, but we won’t talk about that here. This is a day to celebrate Madrileño glory.

Anyways, as I alluded to earlier, this week we’ve got a four-day weekend, commonly called a puente, and most people are traveling. But when I found out that this was the bicentennial I decided to stay here, enjoy the festivities and live history a bit. Maybe I was a little overzealous because by mid-afternoon I was so thoroughly exhausted that even a two-and-a-half hour nap couldn’t animate me enough for the evening.

Around noon I saw a dance performance in the Plaza de 2 de Mayo. Well, tried to see is more accurate. Having reached there only minutes before the performance started, the plaza was so crowded that half of my view was blocked by a man and the son he had perched on his shoulders. It was an interpretative dance that used giant marionettes, to tell the story of the Maja, the Giant and Manuela Malasaña, one of the war’s heroines. Although I may have missed most of the dance, at least I didn’t need eyes to enjoy the music.

Afterwards I saw some sort of changing of the guards-type procedure in front of the Palacio Real, grabbed falafel for lunch and saw an exhibition on the development of cartography during the war before my body told me that was all it would allow for now. I headed back for my siesta, and then met up with Chad and Bianca to continue enjoying the festivities. We caught a brief concert in the Plaza de la Villa before meeting Claudia in the absolutely jam-packed Plaza Mayor, where the city was putting on a reenactment of the Battle of the Mameluks, most popularly captured in the Goya painting El dos de Mayo or La Carga de los Mamelucos. We could see absolutely nothing of the spectacle, so we decided instead to head over to the Plaza de Cibeles and secure a spot for the main event, a reenactment of the Fusilamientos, or the shooting of the prisoners taken in Madrid, which marked the start of the war.

So there we were in Cibeles, sitting on our coats in the middle of the road more than two hours early. We all agreed that it felt just like the 4^th of July, except we were missing the barbeque. Eventually nightfall came and the show finally began. And boy what a show it was. Divided in two parts, the first, appropriately titled “Vive la France” focused on the invading French, and the second, entitled “Viva la Pepa,” harking the nickname given to the first Spanish constitution signed in 1812, focusing on, obviously, the Spanish victory.

The show included everything, people with gas masks and pipes walking on stilts, people running through the air on what can only be described as a life-size hamster wheel, and what had to be the absolute best part of the show, Fernando VII and Napoleon rapping (yes, rapping) back and forth about how everyone is now to call the king “roi” instead of “rey.” One man walked a tightrope across the buildings, signifying Fernando VII’s forced exit to France. The climax of the performance came when the dancers harnessed in about 8 columns of five or so, were hoisted into the air and “shot” to death, representing the painting “Fusilamientos del 3 de Mayo” by Francisco Goya.

But my favorite part had to be near the beginning, when an image of the Spanish flag, in all its passionate yellow and red glory, was projected onto the Palacio de Comunicaciones, accompanied by flames and fireworks. Each drumbeat of the battle music reverberated inside my chest, as if my heartbeat itself was blasting through the speakers. It’s strange, but I almost felt prouder yesterday than I can ever remember feeling on any 4^th of July. To me, the 4^th of July means fireworks, not necessarily the signing of our Declaration of Independence. I don’t know if it’s because I only learned the history behind the 2^nd of May less than three months ago, but seeing that Spanish flag up on the building, for a second I felt as if I was truly sharing in the pride and the victory of Spain. Maybe I’ll now brush up on my American history so I can to feel this way when the Independence Day of my own country comes around in a couple months.

The show ended with a giant copper marionette of a woman, “la Pepa” was paraded around the crowd, with the entire crowd chanting “Viva la Pepa.” A little bit of history so you understand the nickname. On 19 March 1812, the liberals and the conservatives signed Spain’s first constitution in Cádiz. The 19 of March just so happens to be the saints day of San José. José, or Joseph in English, was Christ’s “father,” or padre putatis (adoptive father) in Latin. Hence PP, or Pépe. Since the word “constitution” is feminine in Spanish, this constitution is called La Pepa - hence Viva la Pepa.

Now the Spanish can’t have a show without demonstrating their picaresque nature, so of course, after La Pepa had wandered through the half a million people that were present, the cries of a newborn blared through the speakers and out of the puppet popped a “Spain.” The birth of a nation indeed.