The Spanish town where locals soak each other with wine

CNN

2 days ago

A glass of Burgundy sipped during dinner. A chilled Chardonnay while the sun goes down. A sparkling Champagne at a wedding. Typically, a glass of wine is something savored.
Except in one quiet town in Northern Spain, where it's used for ammunition.
Every June 29, hundreds of locals gather in Haro for a festival to celebrate the wine for which the surrounding La Rioja region is famous, culminating in La Batalla del Vino — the Battle of Wine.
What once began as a religious procession to the nearby Hermitage of San Felices, a historic hilltop place of worship, has now evolved into an annual vibrant cultural celebration where thousands of participants drench each other with red wine using water guns, buckets and bottles.
The chaotic and frenetic event can draw crowds of tourists eager to soak up the atmosphere. But, despite the huge quantities of wine launched through the air, local officials are now worried about visitors turning up to soak up too much booze.
'We must not transform this into just another drinking event,' José Luis Pérez Pastor, La Rioja's minister of culture, tourism, sports and youth, told CNN.
Events start at 7:30 a.m., when Haro's mayor and members of the San Felices Brotherhood gather and lead pilgrims to the Bilibio Cliffs, on which is perched the Hermitage.
After a Mass is held at the Hermitage, a rocket marks the start of the wine battle.
Participants dressed completely in white with red handkerchiefs then proceed to soak one another until their clothes turn deep purple.
Though often portrayed as a light-hearted spectacle, the festival is rooted in deep tradition, religious history and local folklore.
It is said to have begun in the sixth century, when pilgrimages in honor of Haro's patron saint, San Felice, were made to the caves where he was buried. Over time, these turned into lively celebrations featuring 'wine baptisms,' which eventually became the wine fights known today.
Another origin tale involves a 12th-century land dispute between Haro and the neighbouring town of Miranda De Ebro, which saw locals from both towns complete a boundary walk to ensure property lines between them were properly maintained. This was said to have lasted over 400 years until it was disregarded and both sides started throwing wine at each other.
Rules of the event are outlined on the Batalla del Vino website. The goal of the festival is to stain your neighbor with wine, leaving them darker than the Pendón de Haro, a banner associated with the town of Haro.
Gigantic wine tankers, each containing up to 15,000 liters (3,300 gallons) of wine, are provided by the town hall for attendees to fill their approved weapons.
In total, up to 50,000 liters (11,000 gallons) can be thrown each year.
While this might seem like a criminal waste of good wine, the vino used in the battle isn't suitable for bottling, as it is not of high commercial value. Much of it is leftover or low-quality product.
Afterward, the wine that flows down the mountainside is absorbed back into the soil or washed away by the rain, officials said.
At midday, after the battle has been raging for several hours, everyone heads back to Plaza de la Paz, in the center of Haro, where locals parade through the streets accompanied by brass bands before — because this is Spain — they head to an arena for bullfighting and other events.
Participants also typically eat a traditional popular local dish of caracoles, or snails, cooked in a tomato and pepper stew at some point during the day.
In recent years, the event has gained visibility and now attracts visitors from across the world, thanks to viral social media posts and growing tourism.
Jessica and Eric Smith, American expats living in La Rioja who document rural Spanish life to more than 100,000 followers on Instagram, say they came across the event while working with a rural housing association.
'The wine battle itself is only three hours,' Eric says. 'It's just a fun experience. You show up and there's thousands of other people.'
To reach the hilltop where the festivities take place, participants are transported part of the way by buses, with seats covered in plastic, a precaution taken to prevent damage from the wine on the return journey.
'The best part is you hop on this bus and you're heading towards the wine battle, but then they stop and let you off in the vineyards. You then have to walk up the hill for about 10 to 15 minutes to get to the wine battle,' said Eric.
That's when things get wild.
'As you enter, these older Spanish men, who've clearly been doing the wine battle for years, are standing there with backpack sprayers full of wine,' Jessica said. 'You walk in and you're just being sprayed. And then a random kid comes out of nowhere and dumps a bucket of wine over your head.'
'At any point in time, people can dump wine on you,' Eric added. 'The atmosphere of the wine battle is just so much fun… you don't necessarily know what to expect.'
Jess said the atmosphere gave her an instant sense of belonging.
'I felt like I was adopted for the day,' she added. 'It's literally just every piece that we love about Spanish culture, and I feel like you get a glimpse into it when you go to this event.'
'We first went to Haro for La Batalla in 2007 and have been going back every year since,' says Toby Paramor, managing director of Stoke Travel, a UK tour company that organizes trips to the festival. 'It was the most surreal, joyful, authentic little discovery.'
While Paramor says his company's beer and wine-inclusive package trips are also aimed at giving travelers a deeper experience of La Rioja, festival organizers are worried about its popularity and the preservation of its cultural roots.
José Luis Pérez Pastor, the local culture and tourism minister, says the festival began 'with faith and friendship' and he is adamant it must not turn into just another party.
'This is the only way to have a truly transforming experience — with respect and authenticity,' he said.
'It's not just about drinking. Attending the Mass is an important cultural moment, even if not in a religious sense. It reflects centuries of tradition.'