In like a lion, out like a lamb; or, Catching up (Semana Santa)

"March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb."

Or something like that.

We've had rain, rain, and more rain. A couple of days ago, it rained mud. Yes, mud. It's rain combined with dust blowing in from Africa (cue Toto now). March has blown in rain and April doesn't seem to be giving it up completely. I'm ready for the "out like a lamb" already.

The end of March brought us yet another Spain celebration, Semana Santa. Our first Semana Santa was a really amazing experience.

And for my friends and family who have been reading about our adventures since our time in Cuba---I'm not as consistent with writing about things as they happen anymore. So pretend Easter has just happened, Spring Break hasn't occurred yet, and April is yet to come. I'm hoping to finally catch up this week!

Semana Santa, or Holy Week, is part parade, part passion play. From Palm Sunday until Easter Sunday, there are nightly processions.

Each night's parade for a week marks a passage of Jesus' passage, from the days leading up to his crucifixion to resurrection. Even if you aren't Catholic or even a believer, it is a sight to behold. We managed to go to several of the parades. We missed the couple that started in the wee hours of the morning and went until dawn, but we did see several others during evening hours.

Each night marks a parade by a different religious brotherhood, or Nazarenos. Everything has religious and cultural significance, from the clothing to the music to the actual float. Each brotherhood has its own color scheme in their costumes and various symbols on their robes and flags.

We first went to the Palm Sunday parade, which featured a float of Jesus riding a donkey and had several people with palm fronds leading the way. The most striking---and to me, really shocking---part of the celebration was the procession of the capriotes.

Capriotes are tall, conical hoods worn by the Brotherhood of Nazerene. Men--and more and more in modern times, women---begin the parades by walking in formation. Red hoods were worn by those condemned to be executed during the Spanish Inquisition. Today, men wear these to show their religious devotion. There are other colors, as well. The participants are hooded to hide their identity, many times in an act of religious penance.

My only experience with anything close to this was seeing people crawl to the Basilica in Mexico City with bloody knees to see the Virgen of Guadalupe. This was even intense because. . . those hoods, y'all.

I know for Spanish (and Andalusians) it is part of the culture, but for someone from the American South, it reminded me of a more evil brotherhood. I grew up hating and fearing anyone wearing a hood, so the first time I saw them, I literally gasped and had chills. Yes, I know I'm dramatic, but it really did take my breath away. After a week, I got used to it. Here in Spain,  Spaniards hate that the Klan took on an important part of their culture and made it a symbol of hate instead of one of religious devotion.

I am not Catholic or especially religious, so I try to learn and understand the religious customs of my host country. That being said---some parts of the pomp and ceremony touched me to an emotional core.

The pasos, or floats, are large platforms with wooden, lifelike statues and lots of silver or gold candelabras and other decorations. They weigh thousands of pounds and are carried for hours on the shoulders or necks of costaleros, or people who do the work many times as an act of penance and/or devotion. The floats have velvet drapes on the bottom concealing the legs of those who carry it. Sometimes they sway with the music, played by a marching band, often in the style of music similar to what you would hear at a bullfight. Candles burn, the floats many times do special maneuvers, much to the oohs and ahs of the crowd, and the costaleros stop for small breaks and then start again. Each person carries over 100 lbs. It is a great honor to be a costalero.

A lady who works at my school and is Spanish told me that her son carried a paso on his neck for 8 hours in one parade, and had lacerations that bleed for several days afterwards. As she was putting ointment on his raw skin, he didn't even wince. She said that she's not very devout, but she respects her son's devotion and his act of penance.

Under the float, one person calls out a cadence and commands for the costaleros to stop, pause, sway, etc. If you get close enough to the floats, you can hear them.

The Nazarenos procede the pasos and wear those famous hoods. Some carry flags or long candles; in one parade, the Nazarenos were connected by chains, as if they were enslaved.

There are Nazarenos in front of either pasos of the Virgin Mary or Jesus.

For me, the most interesting paso was the group of women carrying a dolorosa, or paso of a crying Mary.  I love that it was an all-female procession and it was carried in complete silence. The women were not underneath the float, but beside it, and each put a hand on the shoulder of the woman in front of her. This was by far my favorite of the processions.

Each night was very interesting with the different brotherhoods (or sisterhood, in the case of the parade with Mary). There are different types of music and costumes for each, so no two nights were the same.

Part of the excitement is standing in front of the large doors of the church, waiting for the paso to pass through. It took about an hour each night for the costaleros to get the large floats to the outside of the church. The crowd cheered each time, and during one night, a man sitting in a window on the square overlooking the church suddenly started singing a saeta, or a traditional flamenco style song dedicated to the float.  With a loud, gorgeous voice, he sung for about 10 minutes while the parade quietly began. It was mesmerizing and one of my best moments in Spain thus far.

Spain definitely knows how to put on a parade! We've experienced Christmas with a Three Kings parade, New Year's Eve, Carnaval, and now Semana Santa. Seeing the childlike excitement of my neighbor, who grew up here, at the beginning of each parade made me realize that this probably never gets old for people living here. In our first year, we are taking it all in, and hopefully will continue to feel the same sort of excitement in years to come, especially now that we now what to expect.