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The Sanctuary of the Mother of God of the Vinyet is located about a mile south of the centre of Sitges on the Vilanova road. Surrounded by pine groves, vineyards and part of the town of Sitges.
Of course, Spain is flooded with sites dedicated to Holy Virgins and Mothers of God. More than likely these were sites where the body of some poor wretch of a woman was found clutching her new-born infant. If she was lucky and the bodies were well preserved, everyone would leap about with joy and the remains would be declared saintly. Don't take my word for it, go see Buñuel's The Milky Way.
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| So every 5th of August the church is opened up, the image of the Vinyet is dressed up in her finest laces and masses are said in veneration of the poor dear.
Several masses are held throughout the day, so your trusty reporter being a hard-core infidel decided to miss them all and come along for the festivities afterwards. Which was a pity because I managed to miss the event of the Sitges social calendar, namely: the special mass held in honour of Debbie, the Toast of Sitges, and her pill-popping paramour Joan Antonio Samarranch. (You're fired. Six months setting up playafun and all we've got is one measly photo of Debbie on the beach. Ed). |
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Outside people chill out in the various courtyards keeping out of the sun. These people aren't tourists, they live here, they're not going to fry their skins in the sun. They're happy enough in the shade, where the wine won't rush to your head in the heat.
OK, so these are not bright young Disco Bunnies. But that's the point, these people are dedicated Party Goers, they have fiestas all the time. Every little town and village up and down the country has a municipally-appointed Organiser of Parties. Maybe the Sardana and Castellers aren't quite your idea of where to go and pick up chicks, but you've got to hand it to these old fogies they've sussed out how to go about things.
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| Meanwhile, in a corner, a gentle hubbub rises up.
Everyone's talking about Debbie's visit, and they laugh when they remember the young Englishman running behind the limo after the mass.
"Debbie, Debbie, remember me? It's Greg from Marketing! We used to work together."
Everyone laughed again. "What a gormless git!"
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