Reader's World: Celebrating Easter in Spain is surreal

16 April 2017 - 02:00 By Judy Bryant
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A procession heads for the central cathedral during 'Semana Santa'.
A procession heads for the central cathedral during 'Semana Santa'.
Image: JUDY BRYANT

Ancient Spanish brotherhoods and black widows parade through the historic capital of Andalusia during Easter holy week, writes Sunday Times Reader Judy Bryant

Should you wander down the cobbled alleys of the ancient capital of Andalusia in southern Spain and think you've come across a gathering of the Klu Klux Klan, there's no need to panic. The strangely clad citizens - dressed in sashed robes and cloaks, and wearing tall, pointed hoods with eye-slits - are just the local butchers, bakers and businessmen.

These intriguingly dressed characters, known as nazarenos, trace their outfits back to ancient church brotherhoods, some dating to the 13th century. Their hooded gear harks back to a time when the faithful could repent anonymously in the week leading up to Easter.

Semana Santa (holy week) is one of the largest festivals in this heritage-heavy city, which is filled with tradition and the scent of orange blossom. About 60 processions take place, with more than 100 floats.

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The processions are led by nazarenos dressed in long robes, while penitents carry crosses on their shoulders. Finally come the silver- or gold-covered floats (pasos) bearing sculpted religious figures, dozens of flickering candles, containers of heavily scented flowers and costly ornaments.

Some of the sculptures, normally housed in neighbourhood churches, are not only culturally and spiritually important - generating the same fervour as soccer heroes - but are considered artistic masterpieces too. The official patroness of the city is the Virgen de la Esperanza Macarena; her statue takes the place of honour in the proceedings. She's got a sorrowful face with glass teardrops, and her costume is adorned with gifts like a gold medal from a city mayor and emerald brooches presented by a bullfighter.

The processions start on Palm Sunday and continue to Easter Sunday, with the event attracting about a million visitors every year. Traffic comes to a standstill as marchers, bands and hangers-on follow winding, cobbled routes from their home churches and chapels to the central cathedral and back again.

Round trips may take over 12 hours and there are dedicated stations where physios pummel the exhausted portapasos (strong men who carry the floats on their shoulders, hidden from sight by drapes).

It's quite eerie at night as you nibble tapas and enjoy a drink in a bar, and slowly the sounds of marching feet get nearer and nearer. A low dirge gathers volume, and finally a huge, laden float looms into view, like an ancient sailing vessel lit up with stars. Silence falls as the figure of the Virgin is spotted on the float, glittering amidst a sea of flickering candles. The quiet might be broken by a lone singer on a balcony, breaking into a spontaneous, hoarse tribute. Bar patrons put down their drinks and make the sign of the cross.

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On a lighter note, on the Thursday before Easter, Seville's women (young and old) dress rather like glamorous widows. The traditional outfit is known as la mantilla and comprises a severe black dress, stockings, high heels and lacy mantilla. These might be accessorised by a rosary bracelet, black gloves and a necklace with a large cross plunging into a spectacular cleavage.

Our first sighting of these merry widows was several elegantly dressed women and their partners fortifying themselves with champagne and breakfast nibbles at the foodie market Lonja del Barranco, an old glass and iron building on the river bank, updated with stalls selling all kinds of artisanal food and drink.

Intrigued, we crossed the 19th-century Isabel II bridge and stationed ourselves with cappuccinos in the old quarter of Triana. This is a riverside neighbourhood, celebrated for producing the bravest bullfighters, most sinuous flamenco dancers and skilled potters. Soon, leaving their homes decorated with colourful tiles and wrought-iron balconies, the proud women paraded past, hand-in-hand with their equally dashing men.

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