A few weeks ago was the first of two major spring festivals that Sevilla is famous for, one that draws people from all over the world and fills the streets with all types of tourists. The basic description of Semana Santa is that it’s the catholic holy week, I recommend skimming this wiki article for more background information: Semana Santa en Sevilla
This was our first of two spring breaks, the next one being the most famous of Sevilla’s festivals: Feria de Abril (ALSO MY PARENTS AND MEBANE ARE COMING SOON!). I spent the majority of the first part of the week doing what could be described simply as doing nothing, but in reality nothing always finds a way of being something. I managed to finish all of my homework, booked all of the necessary flights for my European excursion, ate dinner on the rooftop of Joni’s apartment with Sam and Joni, and I met up with Ramón (the banjo player from a few posts back) in Parque de los Principes to play a little bit and to trade lessons on Sunday.
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| A night processions of just nazarenos coming out of el Catedral |
On top of all that good stuff my host mother had been cooking up a storm of delicious treats. Just to name a few: fresh torrijas with honey, gazpacho, bacalao paella, and arroz con leche, and one morning we had a custard roll kind of thing. The food was amazing!
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| Empty seats after leaving the night procession |
I’ll skim over all of that to get to the nitty gritty of what this week is all about, which is the religious processions called pasos. The following description of my paso experience is not a normal one, not even the spanish get the opportunity to do what I did and I am so amazed, grateful, and humbled that I had such a wonderful experience. Most people experience observing pasos while packed in a crowd of hundreds and thousands of people, you get pushed around, snap a few photos, and it’s all a whirlwind. I, on the other hand, got to experience my first paso in a much more enjoyable way: from the view of a private balcony. But woah now, I’m getting ahead of myself, allow me to backtrack a little.
Here are a few key terms to keep in mind:
Processions: These are what the masses are trying to see. Some are silent but many are accompanied by a brass band and drums which lead the beginning of the procession. Then you have a large group of nazarenos and penitants (who carry the crosses), and a group of alcolytes precede the pasos with chandeleirs and incense. Then come the pasos, the crown jewels of the whole procession, followed by another band or choir, then more nazarenos. Each brotherhood puts on it’s own procession.
Pasos: they are the intricately detailed images of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary that are carried by dozens of people called costaleros during each procession. They weigh up to 2 metric tons and are covered in fresh flowers, candles, gilded, and are worth quite a bit of money (which is why they don’t go out in the rain). Some even date back to the 16th century. Each brotherhood has it’s own specific images depicting different scenes and/or different Christ’s and Virgin Mary’s. 
Nazarenos: these are the people in the long robes with the pointed hoods called capirotes, they occasionally walk barefoot, carry candles or crosses. They were traditionally only men, but in recent years all ages of men and women have been participating. These outfits date back to the Middle Ages, they are worn so that the wearer may pay anonymous penitence for their sins. Each nazarenos’ outfit is specific to the brotherhood that is putting on the paso, each with it’s own coloring and insignia. |
| The Saeta to the left of our balcony. |
Saeta: improvised flamenco-style song that is typically sung from a balcony as an offering of prayer to the pasos, they only appear in a few spots along certain pasos’ procession route, attendees usually have to plan out their route to able to see one.
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| Waiting in the rain to see some of the pasos |
Since moving to Sevilla in January I had not seen a single day of rain up until this famed Semana Santa. Many of the processions were cancelled or cut short on account of the gloomy grey clouds and which brought sheets of rain. I was slightly worried that I would be leaving for Portugal without having the opportunity of seeing a full procession, and so Wednesday I woke up determined to find one. To start the day Rose, Joni, Erin and I met in Plaza Nueva to make a game plan. We managed to find some schedules of the locations and times of the processions for that day, and since they weren’t until later, we headed to a near-by church to check out some of the pasos that had already been paraded.
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| Left paso: the Burrikita |
This church had the one of the pasos that leaves out the first day, the Burrikita, as well as 3 or 4 different Jesus and Virgin Mary scenes. I was surprised at how uncrowded it was, I was expecting to be pushing past some not sohappy elderly people, and over zealous backpackers. Surprisingly there weren’t all that many people and I actually was able to quietly walk around and take in all the intricacy of the images and the cathedral. Afterwards, we went off to find some torrijas and coffee at the bakery across form the cathedral, and then we walked in for the last 15 minutes of open time before the cathedral closed, there wasn’t as much to see in the section that we went into, but to say that I got to be in the cathedral during Semana Santa is kind of cool.
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| Being served torrijas! |
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| Orange tree leaves frame el Catedral on our first sunny day of the week |
As we were approaching our destination we heard the drums, the ones that precede each procession. We immediately decided to forget about finding the luncheon and instead concentrate on finding where the procession was. Not only did we stumble upon the beginning of the procession, but the drums also lead us to our original destination: the CIEE house. The house was right on the processions’ route and we were greeted at the door by the woman who had invited Erin (and through Erin we were invited): Maria Teresa. Although they had originally met on tragic terms, this truly was a great way to find themselves together again. She invited us in, gave us a tour, offered refreshments, and showed us to the best seat in the house- a balcony overlooking the street. Turns out this wasn’t a student luncheon at all, just a private gathering that we had been really fortunate to be invited to.
Not only were we going to be able to experience a procession from the comfort of a balcony, while enjoying delicious snacks and wine, we were also INCREDIBLY lucky to be able to have a front row seat to the man who would be singing saetas because he was going to sing from the balcony next to ours. She even introduced us all to this very smiley and warm flamenco singer who sang with such passion and grace. We had a few hours to wait until the pasos reached us, the procession that we saw was a combination of the brotherhoods of San Bernado and El Buen Fin which means there were well over 2,450 penitants and nazarenos escorting the pasos. We sat back and enjoyed the view, did some socializing, some eating, and some drinking.
Before too long we heard the drums that accompany the first paso: the image of Christ on the cross atop a gilded base with blood red carnations at his feet. The emotions of the crowd are quite evident through this all, they go from a murmuring excitement as the drums approach, the closer it gets the more silence begins to sweep through, the shushes begin right as you’re over taken by the booming of the brass instruments and drums. The acolytes are right before the image, they swing their incense which creates a mysterious smoke from which emerges the image. The horns come to their climax and then finish their song, and the paso stops at the base of the balcony. The crowd is left with a looming silence as they wait for the saeta to begin his prayer, his dramatic song fills the air: (excuse my inability to focus my camera, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my camera)
I had goosebumps. I have them now as I write this, as I remember that truely awesome moment. Minutes pass, but it feels longer than that, in that moment you are transformed into sacred time where you aren’t aware of time or place, but instead are captivated by music, by voice, by silence, by the human emotions around you.
Before you’re ready, the song is over. Two loud clicks of a staff and the paso is lifted and bounced, moved by the unseeable costaleros beneath the paso that give you the impression that it moves on it’s own. With two clicks, the crowd cheers and the trumpets blare. You are brought out of that sacred time quickly, abruptly. So much so that snapping yourself back into reality is like waking up from a dream. You question what that was, if that was reality, and ultimately I was struck with the overwhelming feeling of humility. Because at that moment it hit me: this is not normal.
To stand on a balcony, surrounded by friends, enjoying the hospitality of a stranger who invites you to their food and drink. To stand 6 feet away from a saeta singer, to watch from above and see what most people only are allowed to see from below. To be in a moment and to recognize how pivotal it is, to live in a moment and recognize that it will be a something you’ll remember forever, and how only you and the people with you in that moment will be the only one’s to ever actually understand how amazing it was is indescribable.
We were able to enjoy ourselves as the rest of the procession continued, and again the saeta sang a second song to the paso bearing the image of the Virgin Mary. I decided to watch the Virgin pass from below, from the perspective of the masses, which turned out for the best because this paso had a canopy. I watched as she passed and again, like the first paso, stopped just below our balcony. From that perspective I watched fathers point out to their children, men in suits walk up and place bouquets of gorgeous flowers at her feet, as women placed delicate roses between the intricate details of the candelabras. And again, after the horns stopped, he sang his saeta.
After this unbelievable event I headed back to my casa to do some more homework and pack before heading to Portugal, I was on cloud-nine the whole walk home and was surprised again by an unexpected Easter card and letter from Carolyn Jones. Inside the card read:
“I’m sure you had an unforgettable Easter!”
Mrs. Jones you are very correct, unforgettable is the best way to describe it.
This post is only the beginning of my Easter week experience, I still have to tell you all about our road trip to Portugal. Check back soon, it was awesome!
