Espiche, Espiche, Espiche piche piche

The countdown is in full swing. “Diez, Nueve, Ocho”. The crowd screams out the last numbers with the presenters, begging for that for which they came to happen. “Siete, Seis, Cinco, Cuatro”. The espichadores follow the rhythm of the countdown with their hammers. Every blow hits the little nail on the head and drives it deeper into the wood. People push to the stage to … Continue reading Espiche, Espiche, Espiche piche piche