Jerezians

The people of Jerez were all welcoming and helpful, from the station bar, to the taxi driver, Mr. Garcia at the Bodega and cafe owners. And they all seemed to share a fun, lively, really enjoying life sense of humour.
They seemed leaner and taller than the Cordobans. And there was also a mexican feel element to some and to the city.
Bit bonkers too. In the cafe where, starving after the sherry tasting, we ate. Very expensive, think we were ripped off and it wasn't brilliant, but as I said, starving. The little boy of the owners, probably about three years old, kept wandering in and out, shaking his head madly, until he, still wandering in and out, started staggering.
And people in costumes, maybe a spill over from the festival in Cadiz and this little girl wasn't allowed to go, but still wanted to dress up, or maybe she always dresses up.
There was a wild west feel to the place and maybe the people needed humour to go with it. Or maybe it was the wind off the Atlantic and the smell of alcohol soaked oak and the definite feel of carnival and festival and any excuse to dress up and have fun.
We passed a group of men, musicians dressed, all dressed, as the Pied Piper of Hamlyn with white rats hanging from their outfits and a back street spill out from a bar with balloons and loud revellry. And all in the late afternoon grey of an otherwise deserted city.