Looking back on our travels in Andalucía . . . It began with Kira’s midnight arrival in Barcelona from her two-month sojourn in Odessa, Ukraine. I hadn’t seen her since September; needless to say we spent most of the night talking and then headed back to the aeropuerto a few hours later for our flight to Granada.
The first week of our trip immersed us in the rituals of santa semana, or the holy week prior to Easter. While I can’t capture the richness of what we heard and saw, maybe the pictures will evoke some of the wonder and provoke some of the same questions we had. And motivate you to visit Spain during this time (reserve way ahead of time – the entire country is on vacation during this week).
Basically, as far as I understand (thanks Catholic Hoquium friends for what little insight I do have), each church has its own procession. Each procession has 2 floats, one for Jesus and one for the Virgin Mother. Depending on the tableaux portrayed by the particular floats, a church’s procession is on a specific day.
For example, if Jesus is tied to a post, then the procession would be early in the week. If he is being taken off the cross, the procession would be on Saturday (maybe Friday, I can’t remember if there were processions on Saturday . . . but we were in Sanlucar de Barrameda on Saturday, and it is a beach town which, like all the beach towns you know from Long Beach, Washington, to Enseñada, Mexico, is pretty casual). Of course on Sunday he is an angel – or angelic, at least. The Virgin’s floats also change, from looking sad to distraught to holding Jesus after he is taken down from the cross. The pictures show this, so hopefully you can see the differences. It took us a couple days to notice the progression. Note also the metal-plated (I assume) curly candelabras, the banks of huge candles, the carved wood . . . the floats were amazing and it took me numerous processions before I began to notice similarities and differences.
Yes, the conical hats worn by the penitents are reminiscent of the KKK. We had to remind ourselves that this ritual began long before the KKK was around; we can’t explain the similarity however. One does not want to speculate too far without more information. However, despite the beauty, devotion, emotion, soul-stirring music, and wonder of these processions, we couldn’t help but reflect on the somewhat troubled history and questionable practices of the Catholic church (e.g., see previous picture of the sarcastic poster with the pope). I assume the differing colors represent the different churches, similar to sports teams’ colors.
Some of the most memorable moments across the 12 or so processions we saw over the week:
About 10 p.m. in Granada, on a narrow cobbled street waiting for the procession to arrive. Each procession has 2 bands, one for the Jesus float and one for the Mary float. We could hear the trumpets and drums in the distance as the leading penitents passed.
Everyone carries these 3-foot candles or some other artifact from the church, like banners, jewel-encrusted books, scepters, crosses, etc. There are many children, even toddlers. And the women, dressed in lovely black dresses and mantillas, wear the highest frigging heels and they walk for up to TEN HOURS!!! On lumpy, cobbled streets. That is true penitence, or “fashion by incapacity,” as depicted over the centuries by a museum display I saw years ago in Vancouver, B.C. and will never forget.
Anyway, on this particular night we were in the front of the crowd, just about a foot from the procession. It was dark, cold, yet full of glowing candlelight and people so there was a warmth, too. Kira talked with a young mother next to us and got a lot of information. The most amazing part . . . the music played during these processions is soul-stirring. Lots of trumpets and other brass, and many many drums. The Jesus band was always more dramatic than the Virgin band, which was lighter although not happy. This Jesus band passed within inches of us and my ribs vibrated with the drums and brass. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face (I cry at bands in parades, anyway). As the band played, the 42-plus men (or sometimes women) who were underneath carrying the up to three-ton float walked slowly in a way that made the float sway, and then surged forward in time with a soaring part of the music. It was (every time) truly a pure physical-emotional experience.
We recorded some of the music with our cameras, and I thought about buying a CD. But I wonder when I would listen to this music – maybe while hiking up a steep trail amongst soaring mountain peaks or kayaking a very tough current. I never tired of it.
The emergence and re-entry of the floats through the cathedral portal (“door” is much too mundane a word to use for these entryways) proved to be quite exciting. On our first procession on the first afternoon in Grenada, we stood in a densely packed plaça, not knowing what to expect. While the cathedral portal is probably 25-feet high or more, the floats just barely squeeze through. In fact, we learned that the carriers have to go down on their knees and shuffle out/in. With 4000-plus pounds on their shoulders. Humph. I was impressed. The music matches the effort, with a surge of brass when the top of the cross or Mary’s headdress clears the arch, and the crowd shouts “ole!! and applauds. They actually applaud frequently, as the carriers set down the float every block or so to rest (they again have to go on their knees or crouch down, if they are underneath; for some churches, the carriers walked on the outside) and when they get back up again and hoist the immensely heavy beams back to their shoulders.
The second night in Granada we made sure we were outside a cathedral after midnight to watch the reentry. We stood in a small plaça about 10 feet above the street; the street itself wasn’t much more than 18-20 feet across. As the Jesus float approached, Kira had an ongoing conversation with a very nice family who had a teenage son in the procession. The father had been a carrier of the float in other years, so gave us all kinds of information. When the Jesus float arrived, people had to scoot out of the way and smoosh into each other and the walls so that the float could be turned ninety degrees to go up a ramp into the cathedral. It was very impressive. But – even more impressive was when the Mary float came. Not only did they turn in the street, but when they went up the ramp they turned it around 180 degrees, an extremely tight fit, on a ramp, and I can only assume some carriers were on their knees and other upright, changing through the turn. Then they turned it again!!! The crowd went wild! They were really show-offs, and deserved all the accolades received. I’m sure it was shown on TV.
Oh, every procession has a story, from the policia chasing one band back up a steep cobbled road at night in Ronda because another procession was coming around the corner, to the laid-back band members in Sanlucar who were smoking as they drummed or played and had their girlfriends strutting along with them to our second-floor view during a daytime procession where we could almost read the sheet music and marveled at how someone had to lift up the telephone/electrical wires so the floats could pass. Again – you really should come see this at some point in your life.
