Otherwise, to save me repeating myself, this sums up everything you need to know about this festival].
Having followed the parade before, we decided to wait it out at dinner until the procession returned to the front, conveniently signalled by rockets.
With the pipe band in tow, it makes a sharp right towards the sea and the entourage awaits their offering. (This part I’ve never been clear on, isn’t it a moodkiller that the Virgen doesn’t make her way alone? Not even for a little?)
Behold, arty shizz inbound.
Is it me or do the final fireworks look like Motril caught a Voltorb?