THE ART OF CELEBRATING

I've been in Benarrabá for a week and I already feel this village beats differently. It's not just the mountain air or the cobblestone streets. It's something deeper: an energy that invites you to be part of it, not just watch from the outside.

And then the fair arrived.

San Miguel and San Sebastián

Benarrabá has two patron saints, and each tells a different story of the village.

San Miguel Arcángel is the protagonist of the big fair, which we celebrate from September 26th to 29th. On the 29th, everything comes together: rociera mass, procession, flowers, colors, neighbors dressed in flamenco attire. It's the moment when the entire village dresses up.

San Sebastián, on the other hand, waits his turn in January. On January 20th, in the middle of winter, Benarrabá gathers again to honor the local patron. And there's a detail that fascinates me: at the end of the procession, the two saints "dance" in front of the church to the rhythm of the national anthem. A very emotional moment that has been saved in my memory.

I suppose that's how this village works: the religious intertwines with the social, and each celebration reminds you that there are deep roots beneath your feet.

The epicenter

Everything happens in Plaza Veracruz, right behind Hostal Benarrabá.

They set up a tent that becomes the heart of the fair. A bar with food and drinks, stands with nougat, waffles, kebabs, roasted potatoes... You can feel the joy and excitement arriving in the village.

The acts are inaugurated there, live musicians perform, DJs take command, and to finish it all off, the firecracker show closes the spectacle.

The most intense moment is September 29th: the rociera mass and the procession. Neighbors in flamenco outfits, prayers mixing with songs, an emotional speech by the priest about what it means to "be from Benarrabá." I, who have only been here for a week, felt part of something I still don't fully understand. And that's okay.

Sunday has its own prominence: the little bull run. The village groups design t-shirts with their own identity, hoping theirs will be chosen as the best and win a small prize. It's tradition.

Benarrabá FOMO

During the fair I discovered I fell into an impossible loop: if I was at home, I wanted to go up to the plaza to see what was happening. If I was already at the plaza, I didn't want to leave because something better could happen at any moment.

Result: nights of having a great time, lots of dancing, conversations even with the walls.

But that's what makes the fair special: it absorbs you.

And it doesn't let you escape until your body asks for a truce.

The two Danielas

Something particularly moved me: seeing "the two Danielas" return (Daniela Martínez and Daniela Spencer, although those days we had three Danielas). They came from outside exclusively for the fair.

So if your name is Daniela, it's quite likely you'll end up having a really good time in Benarrabá.

Five or six hours of travel just to be present again in a village that missed them.

When I arrived in the village, some neighbors were already asking me about them. But what moved me most was seeing one of them spend an entire afternoon baking cakes for her friends in Benarrabá.

"What you give, you receive," I remembered. That phrase I told you about in the previous post and that's part of Rooral's DNA. Here I was seeing it in action: Daniela baking cakes not because she had to, but because she wanted to give back everything this village had given her.

That says a lot about the type of people this project attracts. And the type of bonds created here.

Integration is real

The fair is the best time to feel part of the village.

The neighbors pull you out to dance pasodobles without asking if you know how. The grandmas offer you their flamenco dresses, or their granddaughters', so you don't stay out.

This year several Rooral colivers were part of the jury choosing the best t-shirts. There are categories by age and theme. I was surprised by the creativity of some groups: they connected their designs with shared stories, with inside jokes that only they understood and that I loved.

And then there's this: standing at the bar, non-alcoholic beer in hand, and crossing paths in conversation with the mayor. The same Silvestre who once told me at the bar: "Kid, you like the same bars I do."

That closeness I told you about in the previous post multiplies during the fair. Here digital nomads aren't strangers, but welcomed.

If you're from Rooral, everything is even easier. You say you're one of those who came to work in the coworking space and you've already passed a symbolic filter: you're in.

The moment that changed everything

One of my favorite nights was the presentation night: they named misters, queens and emperors of the fair.

A symbolic act that helped me understand from the beginning how they welcome those who come from outside.

What impressed me most: the emperors were a Dutch couple who have been living in the village for years. They weren't decoration. They weren't special guests. They were part of Benarrabá's living history.

And there I understood it: this place doesn't ask you to pretend to be someone you're not. It only asks you to stay.

Survival guide

If you ever come to the fair, here are some keys I learned along the way:

• Go to the opening ceremony. It's the best time to understand the spirit of the village.

• Learn to dance pasodobles. It will open doors you didn't know existed.

• "Match" with a grandma to get a flamenco dress. Or bring your own, if you have one.

• Try the roasted potatoes or kebab. They're essential and the only time that you can try them.

• Talk wherever you can. The music is loud, but human connection is louder.

• Hydrate well.

• Don't miss the procession. You'll see images of the village that will stay in your memory.

  
  

What stays with me

A few weeks after the fair, I still feel that echo.

It's not just the memory of the music or the dances. It's something deeper: the certainty that I belong to this place, even though I've only been here a handful of days.

The fair taught me something I didn't expect: that integration isn't about learning customs or memorizing names. It's about letting yourself feel part of something bigger than you.

And Benarrabá, with its fair, its saints, its neighbors and its Dutch emperors, has made me feel exactly that.

For the first time in a long time, I'm in no hurry to go anywhere.

Right after the fair ended, on September 30th, my birthday would arrive. And with it, something I didn't expect. But I'll tell you about that in the next post.