First you hear the drums, a marching beat, but slower. Then the woodwinds, the brass, the trumpets
shrilly scraping the upper registers.
But this isn’t Sousa. It’s not your
standard major key yay rah siss koom bah.
There are darker notes, older notes, the sorts of notes you could hear
coming out of a cave, where guitar, voice, and claps rush and spin forward.
You catch a whiff of a pine-ier Nag Champa, a light
haze. And then you see the figures,
cloaked and hooded, white and red, white and purple, black, royal blue faces
invisible, and eyes black holes. The
conical hat that we as Americans have only ever associated with one thing,
although you are in the presence of something that predates that hate and
intimidation by hundreds of years.
And this sense of time-travel predominates. Even as the processions go by Vodafone stores
and Starbucks, the spell of being transported is hard to break. You feel as if you’re watching something
unfold as ancient as the scenes that are depicted on the floats, the entrance
of Jesus to Jerusalem, his crucifixion, the resurrection, the solemnness of
Mary.
Semana Santa or Holy Week is one of the biggest and unique
festivals in Spain, taking place the week leading up to Easter. But unlike some other festivals like Las Fallas, Semana Santa is a devout and sober affair. While people, from kids to grandparents, will
be in the streets until three AM or later, observing or taking part in the
processions, there is not general merriment and festivity during this time. But the sheer volume of people, many of them
relatives of people participating in the processions, others tourists, Spanish
and non-Spanish alike, creates a one of a kind experience.
While the most famous Semana Santa processions take place in
Sevilla, they are widely held in many of the cities in Spain, but those in
Andalucía are some of the most spectacular.
We were in Granada and for the first Sunday and then moved on to Málaga
for two days. Both cities didn’t disappoint
in the pageantry and the power of the processions.
Even as a foreigner twice over (non-Catholic and
non-Spaniard), I was moved by the solemnity, the tradition, and the power of
the processions. One of the first ones I
saw was in Granada, where we waited for at least half an hour in a shoulder to
shoulder crowd outside one of the main cathedrals of the city.
I was a bit dehydrated after walking around a lot in the
heat (and maybe a bit of a tapa-heavy lunch) and so was trying to hold it
together and not pass out in the crowd.
After slipping out briefly to sit down for a second and gathering
myself, I made it back just in time to watch an enormous Jesus float emerge
from the doors of the cathedral, carried on the shoulders of at least 60 men.
As they moved down the steps and finally hoisted the float
up, it was as if the physical effort of lifting such a heavy object,
constructed of earthly materials but depicting the spiritual, was
simultaneously a spiritual “lifting” or ascension, powered by faith,
accomplished by the individual submitting himself to the greatness and strength
of the whole, making the apparently impossible possible.
I was also struck by the familial nature of the whole
process. The otherworldly spell of the
hooded procession marchers was broken, or better, transfigured, when a human
face appeared from behind the hood, greeting, hugging, dos beso-ing, his or her
family members who were there to support their efforts in this most traditional
of Spanish traditions.
All this being said, unless one is very invested in the
procession, in their Catholic import, after a few days, you get the idea of the
processions and can probably move on.
The density of the crowds makes exploring a city hard. Also, as I said earlier, the processions are
very sober and important affairs for the vast majority of the people, and they
don’t take kindly to cutting across processions (which becomes inevitable if
you want to get anywhere) or otherwise behaving in “dumb foreigner” type
ways. Also, accommodations tend to be
harder to come by the further into Semana Santa you are.
In short, Semana Santa is a must see for anyone who is in
Spain during that particular March or April week (especially auxiliares who get
that nice fat vacation), but don’t feel obligated to spend the entire week
because the processions take priority over whatever else you might want to see
in a city or cities.
