The Andalucían Processions of Semana Santa: Málaga and Granada

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.

The Search for Delicious 9: Málaga

 We were a bit shocked when we arrived in Málaga to find that the free tapas of Granada did not extend down to the large port city on the Mediterranean.  However, since we were on the Mediterranean, we were in a perfect situation to enjoy plenty of sea-residing goodies served up in a plethora of ways. 

Naturally, the first thing we did after getting off the bus from Granada and arriving at our Airbnb was put on our swim trunks and head to the beach.  La Malagueta, as the beach is called, is gorgeous, and after an hour or so of lounging to work up our appetite, we headed to a beachfront restaurant to chow down. 

On our way to the beach we had caught a whiff of a wood fire, and when we got closer, we saw a man grilling sardines on a metal spit.  These are known as sardinas a la espeto and are very traditional of the Costa del Sol, and Málaga in particular.  The restaurant ended up having some of the worst service I’ve had in Europe, although I felt some sympathy for the waiter because we were some of the only people who could actually speak Spanish.  Regardless, it took an hour for us to even order our food.  All the same, we were drinking beer on the beach of the Mediterranean, so things could’ve been much worse.

We ordered the sardines, which had a wonderful char grilled flavor, not too oily or bony, perfectly crispy.  We also got fried chopitos or small squids, and arroz negro as our main dish.  Málaga is famous for its fritura, or fried seafood, and some of the best stuff is supposed to be available a little bit outside of the city proper, in fisherman shacks along the coast.  We didn’t get a chance to test these out, but I’m sure they would be worth a try.

Once we finally got our food, it was all well prepared, and once we were done and satiated, we went back to the beach, comfortable enough to doze off for an hour or so, which I regretted later that night when my back was a lobster-like hue.

That night, we went to tapa hop, although we quickly found out that we were no longer in the land of milk and honey that was Granada.  Tapas weren’t free, and the ones we got were just plain bad, including some onion rings and croquetas that we watched the barman take out of the freezer before putting them in the fryer.  So without the food we expected, our beers started to add up and combined with the pomp and circumstance of the Semana Santa processions made for a bit of an odd evening.

For lunch the next day, we took the advice of our Airbnb host and checked out El Pimpi, one of those institutions that you always like to visit.  It’s a huge place, with wine barrels all over the place and seating outside, inside in multiple rooms, in interior courtyards.  I couldn’t quite figure out if it was a tourist trap or not, but there seemed to be both Spaniards and non-Spaniards alike enjoying their food.  We ordered a variety of things, including some solid pulpo.  It was the sort of place that has pictures of its famous guests, but the food was pretty quality and the décor and vibe definitely had a lot of Andalucian charm.

In terms of sights, both the Museo Picasso and the Museo Carmen Thyssen are worth a visit.  Picasso was born in Málaga, and the museum offers up a thorough and interesting look as his development from a wunderkind who mastered traditional technique to the revolutionary genius who would change the face of painting, as we know it.  The Carmen Thyssen museum was featuring the work of Sorolla, the Spanish painter primarily famous for his depictions of beachside life.

The alcazaba is a Moorish fortress worthy of a stop, reminiscent of the Alhambra.  If you climb up the hillside next to it, you’ll find a spectacular view of the city.

After sight-seeing and a siesta, we did some more research on restaurants and found a couple winners for that night.  Two of the best were located right across the street from each other.  The one, El Mesón de Cervantes, is a more upscale restaurant than a tapas bar, but we had excellent seared ahi tuna before dipping out for more economic options. 

Luckily, its sister restaurant, El Tapeo de Cervantes, offered a bevy of tapas, which although they were about 3-5 euros a piece, were of great quality and were enough to share between two people.  We ordered 5 or 6 different tapas, ranging from cuttlefish, to pork cutlets, to pulpo, all of which were stellar. 

It’s always a goal of mine to have at least one really great meal in a city when I travel there, and although our first night in Málaga left something to be desired, the second day made up for it.   As I said at the time, a day where you have pulpo for lunch and dinner is not a bad day at all.