The 12 grapes of wrath
Prepare yourself for the New Year countdown in Spain – make sure it includes 12 grapes to stuff in your mouth with each clock stroke.
The New Year holiday in Spain is an important one – especially for the teenage and twenty-something crowd. For this group, the holiday is divided into three distinct phases: (a) dinner and grapes with family; (b) beer, wine and whisky with friends; and (c) stuggling to last the family New Years Day's lunch with a killer hangover.
Spanish New Year celebrations
It's a family thing
Phase 1 kicks off the holiday on a wholesome note. Family gathers in the home for a large New Year’s Eve dinner. After dinner, the family awaits midnight; at which time a special ceremony occurs. Each person holds a bowl of 12 grapes and, at the first stroke of midnight, begins quickly eating them one at a time.
If you succeed in eating all 12 grapes by the 12th stroke of midnight, then you will have good luck throughout the coming year. Failure to eat the grapes in a timely manner brings bad luck. If you manage to pop all 12 into your mouth but one enters a lung, then yes – you (technically) should have good luck. But all things considered, you might want to avoid skydiving for the next 12 months.
After the grapes are eaten and all parties have either been kissed or administered the Heimlich Maneuver, the family opens and drinks a bottle of cava; thus ending Phase 1.
Partying up on New Year's Eve
Upon commencement of Phase 2, the more youthful members of the family don their finest suits and evening gowns, wave bye-bye to the parents, and proceed to one or more parties at friends’ homes or night clubs.
Now, maybe it’s the fault of my American informality, but I’ve never understood why—given the hours of debauchery that are known to lie ahead—Spanish New Year’s Eve revellers insist on dressing to the nines. Surely it doesn’t bode well for your EUR 100 Hermés tie or EUR 500 Armani evening gown to be squeezed into a room where dozens (or hundreds!) of colleagues are dancing with a glass of red wine in their hand (most likely, their ninth of the evening). But I digress.
As the sun begins to rise, those revellers who are not lying in a puddle of drool leave the party in search of a bar or restaurant for a breakfast of hot chocolate and churros. This, of course, presents one last opportunity to irreparably stain any Hermés ties or Armani evening gowns that miraculously survived the previous seven hours in tact. The partiers then stagger home and into bed.
The post-party New Year's lunch
Phase 3 begins at 3pm on New Year’s Day or when the party-goer's mother wakes them up; whichever occurs first. The rise-‘n-shine reflex of a Spanish mother is always a threat, because Spanish youths typically live with their parents until marriage or age 43; whichever occurs first.
The bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived New Year’s Eve reveller then hauls themself from bed and spends the remainder of New Year’s Day savouring a crushing hangover.
At 11pm, the by-now-long-suffering youth returns to bed, only to discover that they are unable to sleep because—as I mentioned earlier—they didn’t rise until 3pm that same afternoon.
If they're really, really unlucky, the next morning will be a work day.
Sal De Traglia / Expatica
Photo credit: deux-chi / Published 2012; updated 2016.
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