Video to go along with Semana Santa post

Finally had some luck with the internet and have been able to upload the video that goes with the previous post on Semana Santa!

Semana Santa en Sevilla

My internet isn't cooperating with upload, so check back for the video that goes along with this post that features the saeta and more!   

       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.

What a wonderful experience that was, to have a bluegrass banjo lesson taught by a spanish musician while sitting outside under the sweet smelling orange blossoms called azahares. Afterwards we sat and had some beers and talked about music, which is where I saw my first group of people in Trajes de Nazarenos, since Sunday was the first day of Semana Santa.

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! 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Being served torrijas!

Erin had been invited to what we assumed was an open gathering for international students, the kind where you just drop in to say hello and grab a snack before going to find a paso. Rose and Joni decided to part ways after the cathedral to get ready for our trip to Portugal the next day (more on that soon!). Erin and I met up with another friend of ours, and we started walking towards the general direction of the luncheon event. It had finally turned out to be a nice day, after a few days of dark clouds, and so it was great to see some sun and blue sky. 

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!

La Esperanza de Triana

A pre-Semana Santa procession to prepare the barrio for the week ahead! The next blog is coming very soon, here's a taste of the ceremonial and sacred week that is Semana Santa en Sevilla

La Esperanza de Triana

Day 60-62: Whirlwind Weekend Part 2: Bye bye hair, hello Brussels again!

Here’s Part 2 of my trip to see Gillie in France via traveling through Belgium: A big change. 

         I’ve been wanting to cut my hair for a while now. Having as much hair as I do makes upkeep while traveling a real task, and plus, with the promise of a really hot summer coming up, I knew something had to change. The real question became not if I was going to cut my hair, but where. The spanish don’t exactly have my hair type, and so I was concerned about getting anything done to my voluptuous mane in Spain, plus what’s the fun of actually being able to communicate with your hair stylist? I decided that my trip to Lille was the perfect time for this major haircut. So with the appointment set, Gillie as my translator, and a few pictures in hand, we headed to Hexagon Coiffure on Saturday morning. 

         I was nervous, which was noted by the hairstylist. Much of the nerves were coming from the fact that I couldn’t understand what was being said and that I didn’t have my glasses on. A great comfort during all of this was knowing that Gillie was there as my translator. Of all the people in the world to have by my side during something like this, Gillie would have been my first choice, hands down (which is why I did it); she helped keep me calm and documented the whole event. After over an hour of cutting, shaping, blowdrying, and trimming I put on my glasses to see the final product. In the end she cut over 12-inches off, and do I love it!

        

We celebrated afterwards with a fresh pastry from the bakery across the street and made a stop at an open-air market to grab some rhum gofres. We sat in Lille’s Grand Place enjoying our treats and marveling at what a wonderful job the hairstylist did with my hair!

         That night was St. Patty’s day so we went to her friend Olie’s for dinner and a party where green, of course, was a requirement for entrance. Quite a few people came and I ended up chatting in both english and spanish. I really enjoyed that crowd of people, Olie and her boyfriend were amazing hosts. Afterwards we went over to another party, this one was being thrown by some Irish & English students, some of whom were painted green and wearing irish flags. We met some interesting people, I even ran into a girl from Portland, and I met Gillie’s mentor Fahim. Parties with international students are always interesting events. It’s like taking a trip around the world, you hear all kinds of languages, you meet people from a variety of backgrounds who are from a whole slew of different countries.  

         The next day we went to a crowded open air market to check out the sights, smells, sounds, and fares of that culturally rich area. After that, we attempted to go to a zoo but ended up finding an art museum instead where I got to see a Picasso piece, beautiful sculptures, and some gigantic paintings.

         Here’s where I’ll be a little honest with my French experience, I wasn’t too impressed by some of the people we met in public. It may be that I’m just used to the general open and welcoming nature of the spanish, but overall I found the people a little standoffish. Understand this, we met some great people, but we also found our share of brusque French people that actually did fall into the category of the typical “rude French” person. The overall experience was a good one, but keep in mind that if you go to France that you may have a similar experience, so just be prepared! 

         That night we stayed in and cooked one last delicious meal together, another fun activity that I have been missing since I don’t cook ever here in Spain. We watched another movie since we had to get up at 6:00 so that I could make it to my ride share back to Brussels. 

About to take off for my very long day of travel, goodbye Villeneuve d'Ascq!

         The next day was full of travel which it was exhausting and stressful, to say the least. I had to take a metro to catch my ride share that took me to Brussels. After some walking around the southern part of the city, I took a bus to the center. I had just enough time to duck into some chocolate shops, enjoy some freshly fried & delicious Belgian Frites, and snag some more photos of the Grand Place before I headed to Brussels Central. I bought my ticket for a train that would take me to another station in Charleroi, so that I could hop a bus to the airport. It was at this point, as I was waiting for the train, that I realized that I had underestimated how long it would take me to do all this. So, on top of juggling numerous modes of transport, I was now concerned that I may arrive just in time to watch my plane take off.

         Luckily, because the bus/train combo was faster than what the man at the counter had told me, I arrived at the airport in time to get my visa stamped, go through security, and find my gate with plenty of time to spare. After 2.5 hours of flying (aka sleeping), I was finally back in Sevilla. The only thing between me and a hot meal at my casa was another bus ride to Prado and a twenty minute walk. 

         It was during this walk that I realized how much at ease I’ve come to be here in Sevilla. I felt those same waves of comfort that I feel when I head back to Greensboro after being at away for a while. I walked up the stairs to the apartment. Gumersinda was there, Paco too, dinner was just about to be served and she greeted me with a big hug, dos besos, and a smile. I was only gone for six days, but it was enough time away for me to realize how much I truly enjoy living in this city. This isn’t my home, but I do feel at home here. 

         That walk was an interesting experience, one that allowed me to reflect on my feelings of comfort and to reflect on what that term home actually means. Being so far away helps you realize what you love the most about you’re real home. Distance makes you realize what you’re missing the most, and through those feelings you learn. I am changing here. Already I can tell I’m going to be a different person when I get back and that I’ve only been here for two months means I still have a lot more growing and learning to do. Something I am also painfully aware of is that I’m not the only one who’s changing, that while I’m in Spain, you all across the pond are having your own experiences. 

        They say that coming home is the hardest part of your experience abroad, reverse culture shock and adapting to all those changes; realizing that your ideal of home is just that: an ideal. You have to learn to adapt to that, you have to re-learn what home has become. Home is a term that, like many of the terms used to inspire an idea of stagnancy and permanence, in all actuality is constantly changing and redefining itself. Tradition, history, and culture are living terms that all rely on real and complex human beings in order to allow those terms to exist. This means that the terms are actually being impacted by the people responsible for continuing them; people mixed with the factor of time mean that they’re changing too. 

         I guess that what I’m trying to say, to conclude a much too long blog post, is that I have found comfort here in Spain, I love it here, and am enjoying myself. Traveling abroad has already, in just two months, made me realize that there’s nothing like coming back to the familiar. There’s nothing like returning to the people you love and know. Nothing like walking the streets, that were once so unfamiliar and strange, and realizing that they seem much less foreign and even offer a bit of comfort. Like knowing that while you were gone, people kept living their life. They kept living their lives, but they were also glad to greet you again, and to welcome you back after a long journey away. 

Home. Four letters, but loaded with meaning.  

Days 57-59: Whirlwind Weekend Part 1: Brussels and (Gi)Lill(i)e

       I’m splitting this post up to make it more reader-friendly, this is Part 1: Brussels and (Gi)Lill(i)e

        After a long week of playing catch-up with school work and other odds and ends that piled up from being out of town for 6 days, I’m finally getting the chance to sit down to tell you about my first trip out of Spain! Not only was I getting to visit two new countries, but my main reason for going was to FINALLY see one of my best friends, and my room mate from last semester, Gillie! We saw each other nearly everyday for a semester, and to go from that to not seeing each other for almost 4 months was odd. This trip marked some important firsts as far as my traveling experiences go: first RyanAir flight, getting from point A to B in a country where I can’t speak the language, using a French ride share system, and my first CouchSurfing experience. Of course there were many more firsts, but these were the major ones that had me feeling a little stressed before going. Oh yes, I guess there is another major event to tell you about: getting over a foot of my hair cut-off!

        Gillie is studying abroad at a university in Villneuve d’Ascq, a small town just outside of Lille, France. The cheapest way to get from Sevilla to that part of France was to book a RyanAir flight that goes to Charleroi Airport in Belgium. Since my flight was getting in so late (21:30), getting to Lille from Charleroi wasn’t an option on the day of my arrival (Wednesday), so I looked into finding a place to stay the night through the website www.couchsurfing.org. (If you’ve never heard of this project you should read up on it, it’s a fascinating idea that connects people all over the world who don’t mind hosting travelers http://www.couchsurfing.org/about.html) I lucked out in finding a really great person who lives in Brussels, Julie, who was willing to host me for that night. The next task would be getting from Charleroi to the Brussels Central station before the last bus of the night.

        So how was my first RyanAir experience? Well I was terrified of getting charged with erroneous fees that these budget airlines are so well know for, so I read up on the do’s and don’t’s of using these companies. Technically my travel backpack isn’t within their strict baggage requirements, but I decided to risk it anyway. I would rather know now, before I go off on my month long excursion around Europe, what exactly I’m going to be charged for. My baggage worries were quelled when I met two Spanish travelers waiting for the same flight to Charleroi, Maria and Rafa. They both were sporting backpacks like mine, except that they had even more things stuffed in them, so I asked them about their experiences on RyanAir and the luggage they were carrying. Rafa, who’s done extensive travel using budget airlines, assured me that they never (or rarely) check backpacks and that he’s never had any trouble while carrying one. Sure enough he was right, the lady at the counter didn’t even measure our packs and we three got on to the flight with no problem.

        I spent much of the flight chatting with my new friends who were also going to be going to Brussels Central that evening, they invited me to tag along so that we could find our way together. When we arrived in Belgium we caught the bus to Brussels Midi from the airport, and walked our way to Brussels Central (which turned out to be a bit longer than anticipated, I’ll use the tram next time!). We managed to unintentionally find our way to the famous Brussels Grand Place (conveniently located next to Brussels Central), which was almost deserted at that time of night. If you find yourself in Brussels I’d recommend that you go here at night, seeing all of the centuries-old Gothic and Flemish architecture lit-up without having to deal with the crowds is quite nice. It was a brief moment of peace and quiet after a long day of travel.

        I managed, again by some stroke of luck, to catch the last bus of the night that took me to Julie’s neighborhood. I arrived much later than I anticipated, it was 00:30 when I finally rang the doorbell at her apartment, but Julie was still waiting up for me and welcomed me at the door. We sat in her living room and got to know each other, she’s a teacher at a primary school who hails from the south of Beligum, she’s been involved with the CouchSurfing project for a little over a year and was an absolutely wonderful host. She offered me a yummy Belgian abbey beer (meaning was brewed by monks), called Grimbergen, let me try some Belgian Easter chocolate, and had my bed ready for me. 

View of the morning light on the buildings from one side of the apartment.

        The next morning I was up at 7:00 since Julie had to leave early to teach. I watched the sunrise from her top floor apartment as I ate a bowl of Golden Grahams. Since my ride-share didn’t leave til 11:30, I had the morning to walk around the Center and see some sights:

Easter chocolate.....yes that's chocolate. Despite it's cuteness, I wouldn't be able to restrain myself from devouring those cute little chocolate duckies.

Hôtel de Ville (Town Hall)  tower in Grand Place

Maison du Roi (House of the King) also in Grand Place

I think it looks like he's shooting that poor bird...

        My stop in Brussels was short, but a good one. The people were friendly, there was lots to see, and plenty of food and drink to try. I hope to come back some day to tour this little country a bit more. 

        Since this part of the world (aka Northern France/Beligium) is fairly expensive, I did some research on alternative (and safe) ways of transportation. Gillie recommended I give the French ride share website www.covoiturage.fr a try. I don’t speak French, the most I can say is “Hello, my name is Josie, I don’t speak French, goodbye”, but I managed to find a ride to and from Brussels & Lille for 7 euro each way. The drivers and passengers all spoke varying degrees of english, so it was interesting finding ways to communicate. On the way to Lille I spoke mostly in spanish with a French student named Nolween, who offered to show me the way to where Gillie would be meeting me. 

       I arrived in Lille and, with Nolween as my guide, walked toward the meeting point. Before I had even made it across the street I heard my name being called and looked up to see Gillie’s smiling face running through the crowd towards me. From that point on I couldn’t stop smiling. The semester before this one Gillie and I had talked about being able to see each other in Europe, and here we were actually doing it; we had found each other in the north of France, on a abnormally sunny day, after four months of being apart. We have been trying to keep in touch, despite our shoddy internet connections, but we still had a lot of catching up to do, so we headed to a restaurant with outdoor seating to enjoy some fresh French cuisine and to enjoy the sunny day together. 

(Gillie in case you have forgotten....that is mango)

This was my dish, yes that's goat cheese

       After lunch we made our way via metro to Villeneuve d’Ascq where Gillie lives, works, and goes to school. We went to the international café where she works and we made plans with some of her new friends to get bubble tea with them later that day. I enjoyed a delicious espresso prepared by my own personal barista, Gillie, and took a moment to read a bit while she worked. 

Rose bubble tea, refreshing & delicious, and the perfect excuse for an adorable photo opportunity

       We made our way back into Lille to get bubble tea, go grocery shopping, run some errands, and see the sights. I had been traveling for what seemed 24 hours straight so that night we stayed in and had a lovely quiet evening. We cooked dinner, drank Chi ‘ti beer (typical of the area), watched a movie, and enjoyed being room mates again. 

       The next morning we slept in and had a breakfast of (two) pain au chocolat (commonly (and incorrectly) referred to as chocolate croissants) and blood-orange juice; two of my favorite buys from our shopping trip the day before. We eventually got motivated enough to get dressed and head back into Lille to run some errands, the main one being to arrange a hair appointment for me.

       While in the center I bought a brown sugar crepe from a street vendor. The guy who made it for me made it look too easy as he spread the delicate mix on the hot plate, skillfully flipped it, topped it with brown sugar, rolled it up, and handed it to me on a paper plate. The sugar proceeded to caramelize from the heat of the crepe. Yes, it was delicious, almost too sweet, but realllly good. 

       We eventually found our way to the hair salon and I managed to snag the last open spot for the next day at 11am. Afterwards we stopped in the Eglise du Sacré-Coeur (Notre-Dame du Pentecote). It was chilly inside, so much so that I could see my breath. As we walked around the nearly empty church you could hear the pigeons cooing from the bell tower; this place was impressive. 

(More photos at the end of this post) 

View of the cathedral as we walked to it.

       That night we met up with some of her friends and went to Guapa Bar where they played really fun music, i.e. remixes of James Brown and Michael Jackson. After some dancing I found myself incredibly exhausted despite it being early (2am), so we ran to catch the night bus back to Villeneuve. 

Check back for Part 2, it'll be up soon!