Semana Santa

Easter in Spain is intense.  First of all, it's Easter Week.  Semana Santa.  As I recall, I was completely in the dark about this.  I just had some free time and it was cheaper to go to Spain and into Morocco than it was to go to Malaysia.  I didn't see much in Malaga.  But when I got to Tarifa I was shocked.  I'm glad I didn't know what to expect.

I wandered into the old part of Tarifa.  Through an ancient arched gate/fortress wall.  I had an obligatory coffee at a tiny cafe in a corner of a pedestrian only cobble stone street.  Not pedestrian only by virtue of the law, but simply by virtue of the paths being mostly only about 8 feet wide in most places, and with tight corners.

Due to the nature of such paths, you can't see more than 20 feet in front of you, and so there is a surprise around every corner.  I came around one such corner and the road opened up into a plaza in front of an old church.  Plants/weeds were growing out of crevices in this ancient building.  And people were milling around in their Sunday best, though I'm certain it was a Monday.

And then the horns.  As if ringing in the second coming.  And singing.  Quite monotone.  And hoods.

There was a marching band, and many people in what I assumed to be KKK costumes.  Cloaks and pointy hats covering all but their eyes, and that eerie, eerie music, and giant candles.  And then people carrying massive statues of Christ and the Virgin Mary.  It was all too much.  I was certain that I had wandered into a cult.  I looked around and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.  None were as terror stricken as I.  It was a few days before I found out what was going on.

As I'm writing this, I remember that this must have occurred on my return from Morocco.  So I see this terrifying exhibit in Tarifa and then head to Sevilla the next day.  I was just reading up on Semana Santa and found that Holy Week is at its prime in Sevilla.

My hostel was in Carmona, I think just shy of an hour from Sevilla, so I headed there.  Quite a nice little place.  And thankfully my face had recovered from the burns enough to not strike fear into passers-by.  Carmona is probably smaller than Tarifa.  Medieval town most likely.  Everyone in town turns out for the Semana Santa processions.  At some point it was explained to me as simply a procession to remember the last days of Christ.  Less terrifying now.  Not a cult...well, not completely anyway...

This was certainly a town event.  The girls are in short skirts and the boys in suits.  The children in their communion best.  They carry around these balls of wax, that they've collected from Semana Santas past.  As the Nazarenos (the hooded ones, I just read this) pass by with their giant candles, the kids run up to them with their wax balls and catch the drippings.  Really took the edge off the fear I got when seeing all those hoods.  In Carmona the procession goes around the entire town.  They tote the giant statues of the Virgin and Christ all around with them.  The rest of the year the statues are on display in the church.

There was an incredibly tall German girl staying in the hostel and we went to a cafe to find some food.  There was only one or two in town.  Mostly they served sandwiches.  She managed to order something called Huevas.  We assumed it was just a misspelling of Huevos.  Oh no.  What she received was something that looked like a sausage.  An incredibly veiny grey sausage.  It was filled with grainy something.  And then I realized, it was fish eggs.   Fish egg sausage.  Oh god.  It looked terrible.  Something else I'll have to dig up a picture of.  She loved it!  Ugh, I'm sick thinking about it.

Back to topic.  In Seville I imagine there are several parades, or maybe just one that walks around all day.  I caught them in a few alleys, they don't stop, they just barrel right through.  Eventually you get used to the sight and it becomes quite beautiful.