Semana Santa in Sevilla

When I get a new book the first thing I like to do is look at the pictures. My Frommer’s Spain book only has about ten pictures in it, which was a little disappointing. But since there are so few I have assumed that they must be of the best things to see. So all along I’ve had a secret goal in mind of seeing at least half of them in real life.

The most attention grabbing of the pictures shows a parade of people wearing pointy white hoods who look like they are in the KKK. Really, it’s the Holy Week procession in Sevilla. Drawn in by the shocking picture, I thought this would be an interesting one to see in real life.

It worked out nicely that my friend Charlotte, from Milton, was coming to visit me and see Spain. Seville would be the perfect city to take her to. Its exactly what people imagine to Spain to be like. A city of Don Juans, Flamenco, and barbers. And we could see the processions!

So the day she arrived we hopped on a bus south. I didn’t plan that good and we got there at 5 am totally exhausted from the night ride and to make matters worse we couldn’t check into our hostel until 11. So we spent the morning talking to an ex recon Marine from Texas who said he was shooting a movie called Kill Zone with Matt Damon in Morocco.

Finally, despite being really tired, we dropped our stuff off at the hostel and went to work as good tourists. It was noon and the streets were beginning to fill with Spaniards dressed in their Sunday bests even though it was Saturday. We followed the narrow streets down to the center. We peeked to through the gates of the Muslim Style Orange tree courtyard at the enormous Cathedral.

Then we went into the Alaczar who’s umimpressise esxterior wall was hiding the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. We spent hours there just enjoying the flowers, fountain, and sun.

Afterwards we wandered around the sunny streets of the old Jewish neighborhood and confusedly tried to figure out where we could see a procession. Ready to collapse from heat, hunger, and exhaustion we gave up and headed back to the Hostel with out seeing a procession. I felt defeated and anxious that we would have to leave with out having seen one.

Our lucky totally changed when we got back to the hostel and found out there was a pool on the roof! Ok, so it was more like an oversized bathtub, but I really enjoyed it. While Charlotte took a nap, I went for a quick dip, excited to be swimming in March outdoors, and fell asleep for a couple hours poolside. I was awoken from my siesta by the sound of drums below. It was the procession that I had lost all hope of seeing! I was so excited but little did I know the extreme that our luck with seeing processions would reach.

That night we foolishly made the effort of going to the cathedral to see one up close. It was so crowded that we walked a mile our of our way just to get away from it. We escaped the crowds to a Flamenco show where we ran into a friend I met in Morocco and joined her family for the show.

We were anxious to get to bed when it ended but on our way back we ran straight into the path of another procession! It was cool this time because we got to see it very close up.

The next day we walked down along the river to the beautiful Plaza de España.

Our luck prevailed and we got trapped by another procession. And it was following exactly the path that we need to take to the hostel!

It took us triple the time it should have but we made it back. It was already time to leave sunny Sevilla. We got our stuff together and left an hour later. And to our surprise, we found another procession in our way. We weren’t going to get stuck in it this time though. We asked a police officer what would be the easiest way to avoid the crowds and get to the station. But he directed us straight into it. We were trapped in the tightest packed street yet and everyone was either annoyed with us or laughing at us and our big backpacks.

When we left I still thought the processions were a nice tradition, but my opinion changed dramatically over the course of the next hour. We were going to miss our bus and every room in town was booked. We were desperate to get through the crowd. So we squeezed through into the street following some Spaniards down the side of the street going in the opposite direction of the procession. The hooded penitents were vicious! Once they noticed we were coming they would signal to their friends spread out and set picks on us! No amount of excuse mes or flat out pushing by would budge them. At one point Charlotte and I got separated. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t move either. And time was running out.

Finally a huge float of the Virgin Mary passed and the crowd began to break up. We made our would-be twenty minute walk in almost an hour and a half, barely making our bus. I hoped I would never see another procession in my life!

But, I did. Turns out they have them in Madrid too.