January 18, 2015

The Festival de Calle de San Sebastian (SanSe15) ended today. It started Thursday afternoon. It is a huge event. Traffic patterns are affected all the way to Sagrado Corazon. Police escort express buses from there, the last stop on the urban train line, to near Plaza Colon in Old San Juan. All of Old San Juan is blocked off, and pedestrians own the streets. Strange creatures can be seen, and corporate advertisers hire informal bands for impromptu parades through the crowds. The police get about on their motorcycles, and emergencies are handled by ATVs equipped for that purpose.

Saint Sebastian, a possible namesake of the festival, died around 288 AD, at the hands of the Roman emperor Diocletian. Various paintings show him tied to a stake and killed with arrows. Another story has him saved and healed by Irene of Rome Somehow, Sebastian arranges a meeting with Diocletian, criticizes him to his face, and gets clubbed to death for his troubles. I’m not sure what Sebastian was thinking – was he arguing with Diocletian about Zeno’s Paradox? The Aristotelian model of the universe?

It is possible Calle de San Sebastian was named for the saint. It is also possible the street was named for San Sebastian, a Spanish town on the Bay of Biscay, about 12 miles from the French border. In any case, I found little evidence of a religious theme to this festival.

The festival has been going on for 45 years. It first started as a celebration of the local artists along Calle de San Sebastian. At that time, I’ve been told, that part of the city was rife with galleries and local artists. The festival was a modest affair, lasting two weeks, designed to show (and hopefully sell) the works of art. Over time, the event took on a different flavor and has in fact become somewhat controversial. It has been shortened to three and a half days. The residents of Old San Juan do not like the festival at all – it certainly interferes with their daily routines. In fact, some lock their apartments and visit friends and family in other parts of the island to avoid the crowds, noise, and trash.

Preparations started several days in advance of opening night. Traffic barriers were placed to create the bus lanes. Beer deliveries, a regular feature of life in Old San Juan, reached a feverish pitch. See the leaning tower of Medalla, below left. Related to that, truckloads of portable toilets made their way into the city. The police set up a temporary headquarters in the parking lot next to the Sheraton Old San Juan. Normal bus routes were changed in mysterious ways, keeping everybody guessing as to where to catch their bus into or out of Old San Juan. Residents and employees had to get passes to allow them near the walled city. We’re two miles away from Old San Juan, and we received a notice from the local police station that we would need a pass just to access our building. We don’t have a car, so that made no difference to us.

Food stalls were put up in the city, including Plaza d’Armes (left) and in the small plaza in front of Paraquoia San Francisco de Asis (right), the Plaza Salvador Brau.  We took the bus into Old San Juan Thursday afternoon. We met our friends Chris and Mike and took a little walk about. It was crowded, but nothing like it would be on the other days. We watched an AT&T group parade by us while we were on Calle San Francisco. These groups start in Plaza Colon, go up San Francisco, right to San Sebastian, and then a left to make their way through the crowd gathered there.

I walked into Old San Juan late Friday afternoon. The way in (along the ocean) was marked by beer inflatables at the two gas stations along the way, each of which had set up food stands to feed people going into and out of the festival. Entrepreneurs were along the route, but especially where the buses unloaded, with their coolers, selling soda, cold water, Medalla, Heineken, hats, whistles, and t-shirts. And that was before you got close to the festival. Traffic was limited to buses (with motorcycle escort) and delivery vehicles.

There were six sound stages set up for the festival: Plaza Colon, Plaza d’Armes, the small plaza in front of El Convento, Plaza de la Barandilla at Calles Tanca and San Francisco, Plaza San Jose near the Gothic cathedral at the end of San Sebastian, and the main stage in the plaza with the Totem del Quinto Centenario, overlooking Castillo El Morro. Each stage had a series of acts, ranging from DJs to jazz to salsa to rock and roll oldies and pretty much everything in between.

Food and beer were everywhere. Bacalaitos are a Puerto Rican specialty – flour, water, shredded codfish and seasonings ladled into hot oil until golden brown.

The streets were filled with strange and wonderful people. The Douglas Tavern was an excellent respite from the crowds and noise, and Magnas, a Puerto Rican beer, were two for $5.

I repeated the trip to the festival on Saturday afternoon. This time I figured out the buses, and got on an M3 running on the new bus lanes in back of our building. Several days of intense work had made the lanes usable for the festival, with new lights, paving and not-quite-completed new concrete sidewalks. I suspect the lanes will close again after the festival to complete work there, but the plan is to have all buses into and out of San Juan running there. It will certainly make things easy for us.

An impromptu band was playing in the small plaza in front of Starbucks and the Brickhouse. People jumped out in front and started doing some kind of line dance.

I decided to make my way farther into the festival. I passed through Plaza Colon, where people were having their pictures taken with attractive women, in return for holding signs advertising some kind of wireless network. This would have been good to send to people enduring temperatures of minus 20 F and feet of lake effect snow at a time.

 

I did not avail myself of that opportunity – my debilitating shyness, I guess. Instead, as I walked up towards San Sebastian, a young person in an orange jumpsuit asked to have his picture taken with me. I have no idea why. Perhaps I’ll end up in a testimonial for Oriental Bank. I suspect this does not have, for my friends in the frozen north, the cachet a picture with two attractive blondes would have had. Oh well – next year.

I made my way to La Perla, an old community on the ocean side of Old San Juan, just outside its walls. La Perla was once the area of San Juan with abattoirs, and fish- and fell-mongers. It would have been unpleasant place, filled with stinks and smells. In recent times, it has become associated with drug trafficking, and tourists are often advised not to venture there. It, like the rest of Old San Juan, is a welcoming place during SanSe. In fact, La Perla is the home of the Heineken Cathedral. I worshipped at the altar, and discovered that Charlie Chaplin is alive and well.

I walked home that night, and on the way ran into another strange individual and a street band coming up Calle Fortaleza.

SanSe ends on Sunday, and since Monday is Martin Luther King’s Day, the party goes on into the evening and night. By the way, Puerto Ricans celebrate all US holidays, some Spanish holidays (e.g., their emancipation day), and some of their own.

Traffic into Old San Juan started early Sunday morning, and was backed up to beyond our building by about 10 am. The parking lot across from our building was nearly full. We’re about two miles from Old San Juan, so people walked in from there, running a gauntlet of neighborhood residents hawking cold water, beer, hats, t-shirts. The bus convoys were running as well.

I walked into Old San Juan on Sunday, at about 1 PM. The crowds were amazing. Take the New York State Fair on its most crowded day, put it on steroids, and you’re close. I started on Calle San Francisco, and an impromptu band, sponsored by Oriental Bank, came by.

 The two guys on stilts were amazing. They never stopped moving to the music. I’m not sure what the person in the mask was all about. A Caribbean effigy? I’ll have to research that.

I made my way up to Calle San Sebastian, where street bands were working their way through the crowds. Again, the man and woman on stilts never stopped moving.

I can’t wait for SanSe16.