A Nice Day For A Picnic

A Mallorcan Easter, like a Mallorcan Christmas, is a lengthy affair. Holy Week is something of a misnomer. It is a Holy at least ten days or getting on for a fortnight. Its starting-point of white palm fronds in procession and being blessed on Palm Sunday is a fixed feast. It's the end-point which is the movable one. It all depends where you are, and even then it can seem to have come to an end, only for something else to crop up a few days later. Alcúdia is a good example.

Easter in Mallorca doesn't come to a sudden halt like a British bank holiday when the brakes are slammed on in order to avoid ploughing into the back of the massive tail back caused by the faithful departing the temples of out-of-town shopping centres. It carries on in gentle cruise control, the traffic that of pilgrims on foot or those less holy ones who prefer to carry their leftover empanadas in the boot of a car or even in a shuttle bus. Welcome to the Mallorcan post-Easter picnic.

Once upon a time, Holy Fortnight was indeed Holy Fortnight, and credit for this has to go to the Guardian Angel, in whose honour the citysfolk of Palma established an Easter of ever-longer extension by having a picnic two weeks after Palm Sunday. (In strictly numerical terms of days, this would really make it the Holy Fifteen Days.) By picnic, one doesn't mean it was an occasion for hauling large wicker hampers and cool boxes off to a shady spot in the countryside, it was a day when the poor were given bread that had been blessed. This custom changed markedly over the centuries, so much so that by the nineteenth century it was an excuse for yet another round of merry-making, but the name survived. The pancaritat.

At some point in time, most of the villages of Mallorca realised that what was good for Palma was good for them too. As best as I can make out, 43 pancaritat picnics take place, certain municipalities having more than one, e.g. Alcúdia. Given the Guardian Angel origins, there is a religious element, one that involves trooping off to the nearest hermitage and holding mass before organising the tables and chairs and whipping up some paella. And while 22 of the 43 have kept faith with the Day of the Angel, i.e. a week today, 21 have not. Monday or Tuesday are the preferred alternative days, unless you happen to live in Lloseta, where it is Wednesday.

In the northern area of Mallorca there are six pancaritats; seven if one includes Colonia Sant Pere. The six are in Campanet, Muro, Pollensa and Sa Pobla plus Alcúdia with its two, the first of which - at the hermitage of La Victoria - is on Tuesday, with the second at Sant Martí next Sunday. This is the cave of Sant Martí and not, you'll be relieved to learn, Red Electrica's much-hyped Sant Martí substation. The cave, with its icon of Christ, is within microphoned vocal range of Bellevue's Show Garden, though it is probably as well that the outer limits of Bellevue in closest proximity to the cave are uninhabited at this time of the year. Otherwise, curious bearers of wristbands might head off in hot pursuit of the pilgrims, the lager of plastic glasses slowly being warmed by the spring sunshine, and anticipate that the picnic forms part of the all-inclusive offer. 

The pancaritats of La Victoria and of the Puig Maria in Pollensa (Monday) are ones for the committed pilgrims, involving, as they do, hacking up the side of a mountain with the picnic goodies in tow. The others are mercifully far less strenuous, even if Campanet's requires the climbing of the soapy pine tree. Not that everyone is obliged to climb the pine. I mean, the Bishop of Mallorca is turning up for mass, and I fancy his devotion doesn't extend to such frivolity.

Of the different picnics in the north, those of Campanet, Muro and Sa Pobla are the grandest; they are like mini-fiestas. In Muro, it all kicks of with rockets being let off in the town at 10am on Monday, the signal for the picnic-goers to gather items from the fridge and larder and trek to the hermitage of Sant Vicenç Ferrer. The hermitage, being as hermitages generally are, is not the location for events later in the day. The clubs of Muro go into overdrive from four in the afternoon, offering an alternative type of dance to the ball de bot folk dance at the hermitage and so an alternative pilgrimage: to offer thanks for the DJ deck and USB stick.

But Sa Pobla's is probably the best-known of all the picnics. It is the one that takes place at Crestatx every Tuesday after Easter, when seemingly the whole of the town takes itself off to the hermitage, some say oratory, of Crestatx with the image of Santa Margalida, one of Sa Pobla's patron saints: indeed, the original patron, as Santa Margalida was associated with the tiny populace of Crestatx before it was relocated in 1300 to the new town of what was to become known simply as Sa Pobla.

A big thing of the Crestatx day out is the wearing, by men, of the barretina hat which, though it is not unique to Catalan culture, is most closely identified with it. The red hat was commonly worn in rural areas, such as Sa Pobla, until the nineteenth century. It is now more symbolic than fashionable, and the Crestatx picnic is when it gets taken out of the wardrobe and dusted down for the day. A further important element is the t-shirt. The town hall organises an annual Crestatx t-shirt competition (first prize one hundred and twenty euros), so far from it being a case of been there, got the t-shirt, it is one of going there each year with a different t-shirt in the hope of securing the prize.

A common element of all these picnics is the hermitage. The history of the various ones in the north is something I shall delve into on another occasion. But for now, I shall just mention that the oldest of them, by some considerable distance, is Alcúdia's Sant Martí. This cave-shrine was a catacomb for early Christians during the time of the Roman occupation. Strange that, of all the hermitages therefore, its neighbours should be Bellevue and an industrial estate with a new substation named after it.