SEMANA SANTA, SQUASH BANANA
Every city and pueblo (town) in Spain has their own Semana Santa celebration, so this is not something that is unique to Sevilla. What IS unique, however, is the scale and just sheer awesomeness of the Sevilla Semana Santa. Semana Santa starts on Palm Sunday and lasts until Easter Sunday. Each day, there are processions from the different churches throughout the city to the Catedral de Sevilla. The processions are led by hooded "penitents" that walk in cadence with drums and horns playing, carrying a giant wooden platform that holds images of the crucifixion, the Virgin Mary, or both. The penitents are part of the church's "brotherhood", and the platforms they carry are, for the most part, a few hundred years old. The penitents' robes look just like the KKK's and are pretty creepy looking; each brotherhood has different colored robes and hoods that they wear. The platforms ("pasos") are very heavy from what I've heard and very fragile. The brothers must walk slowly and deliberately when they carry them, and the processions cannot be brought out when it's raining. Unfortunately for us, it rained from Tuesday until Easter Sunday, so we were only able to catch the Palm Sunday processions in Sevilla. Most of the roads in Sevilla are cobblestone, windy, and very narrow, so you can imagine how difficult it must be to carry this heavy "paso" through the streets and making sure you are in time with the rest of the penitents. The brotherhoods practice every night for almost an entire year to ensure that everything goes smoothly. El and I can attest to that: the blaring of horns and beating of drums kept us awake all too often when they started practicing at 9:45pm. My description of Semana Santa probably doesn't do justice to the historical significance, so here is a link to Wikipedia's page:
I realize that's a cop out, but I don't personally know much about the history behind the processions. :(
We decided to head down to Semana Santa with Will, Alex, his gf Ana, and Will's friend Noelle around 12:30pm. The first procession didn't start until 1, and the majority were at 3, so we wanted to get there early to avoid the crowds. We had been warned by our Spanish friends that it gets claustrophobically-crowded on Palm Sunday, and basically to just avoid the crowds at all cost. Well, trying to keep in the tourist frame of mind, we ignored the good advice and went downtown anyway. We ended up driving and parking in the Montequinto Metro lot (on the outskirts of Sevilla and Dos Hermanas) and took the subway into Puerta Jerez (the stop by the Cathedral). We met up with Bozhena, Carlos, their girls, and a few of their friends and their kids who were visiting from Germany. The weather was beautiful, so we all had some drinks al fresca and munched on some tapas. Since Semana Santa is a religious holiday, all of the women wore dresses and the men wore suits. Alex broke from the pack and didn't wear a jacket, although Ana had warned him that "that's not something Spanish men do". It was in the 70's that day and pretty sunny, so I don't blame him for chucking tradition and going sans jacket. I was wearing a sleeveless dress myself, so I can't hate.
I was starting to doubt the warnings of the Spanish, as the streets were more empty than they normally are. I thought maybe it was a ploy to keep the Americanos away from downtown, letting them have more space to enjoy the processions. I highly doubt, however, that it was an elaborate ruse, planned with tented fingers and menacing laughs, to keep us away. I just think that we Americans, true to form, didn't stay out late enough. I'm fast-forwarding, but we later found out that people don't normally get to the city until at least 6. We had a good 5 hours on everyone. Wha wha whaaaaaa
We wandered from cafe to cafe, ordering tapas, chugging water, and having a few cervezas before we saw our first procession. We heard the all-too-familiar sound of horns and drums, and attempted to make our way towards the procession. Using the zoom on my camera, I was able to see the "paso" the brothers were carrying: a depiction of the crucifixion using full-sized statues and magnificently decorated; there was even a full-sized palm tree on the thing! I wouldn't be surprised if the men carrying it (between 7-15 hours) had Popeye arms at the end of the week. After wandering through the streets of the city a bit more (most of the streets were blocked off to make room for paid seating and the processions), and stopping to get a lunch of gazpacho, we found a spot in a small grassy area by the Cathedral to sit and watch three processions go by. Each one was more impressive than the last, and the smell of incense wafted through the air. There really are no words to describe how unbelievably impressive the processions are, so it might be more helpful to view them yourself:
After being in the sun for a good 6 hours, and the boys a bit dehydrated from beer and Cuban mojitos (Carlos is pretty much the King of Sevilla and knows everyone; especially the folks at the Cuban bar), we decided to call it quits and head home. Semana Santa in Sevilla is a "must-have" experience while living in Spain, and I'm glad we partook.
The following Sunday, Easter Sunday, we went to our friends' house for a pot-luck Easter dinner. There were a good 10 families (at least) that were there from base, and everyone kept themselves stuffed and entertained with ladder golf and the Fajardo's swimming pool. Since it's a small base and no one's family is around, the families celebrate holidays together, something that I really appreciate. Easter's my favorite holiday, so having lots of people around eased the burn of not being at home for the day. We had a great time, ate way more than we should have, and went into a food coma before eventually hitting the hay...
GRANADA
Two weeks later, Will's friend from Germany was supposed to come in to visit for the week but then bailed at the last minute. He was understandably disappointed, so he, Elliot, and I decided to take an overnight trip down to Granada. Elliot has been there before to visit his friend Dave in college, but not to the Alhambra or Cathedral, so it was a good balance of having a slightly experienced guide with us and a Granada rookie. Will had actually been on a guided tour of the Alhambra (the most visited attraction in Spain), so he was providing us with all sorts of interesting tid-bits about the palaces and gardens.
Apparently, if you want to get tickets for the Alhambra online, you need to buy them at least a week in advance. So clearly we waited until the day before to try to purchase them. After a quick panic upon realizing they were sold out online, we called the Alhambra. We were then informed that tickets at the window were still available, but that we should get there long before 8 to get in line, as it usually gets pretty intense. Granada is about 2 hours and 15 minutes away. Quickly doing the math and convincing an unenthusiastic Will to leave at 4:30am the next morning, we decided to head to bed as we were waking up again in like 5 hours.
Despite the lack of sleep, we all somehow managed to get on the road in time and were surprisingly chipper at 4:30 in the morning. After a pit stop on the highway for some breakfast (place had surprisingly good toast and coffee, the standard Spanish breakfast), we got in the already-long line at the Alhambra. Despite having to wake up at the crack of dawn and stand in the sprinkling rain, we were sooooo glad we got there when we did because the morning visit tickets sold out crazy quickly. We were able to get tickets that allowed us entry from 2pm-8pm, so we decided to take in the rest of Granada before heading back up the mountain to the Alhambra.
The Alhambra is set up way on top of this hill/mountain (better for spotting impending invasions), overlooking the white-housed city, with the still-snow-topped Sierra Nevada mountains behind it. Despite the haziness of the day, we were still able to get some pretty impressive pictures of the city below us. Not knowing there was a tourist picture spot 50 yards further, we pulled over onto some random person's property and hopped out for some pictures, all the while hoping some over-allled, pitchfork-wielding farmer wouldn't come out yelling in Spanish that we couldn't understand.
Our hotel was right by the main University, so we parked our car and walked the kilometer (can you tell I'm getting Europe-ized?) or so to the Main Cathedral. After confusing "1:00" for "11:00", I told Will and Elliot that the Cathedral was closed until the afternoon, so we had to come back that afternoon. Whoooooops. (I realized my mistake around 11:45) We walked through the Northern African inspired streets of Granada, admiring all the shops that sold jewelry and hippie clothing and smelling all the spices and vegetables of the outdoor markets. We made our way back to the Cathedral after my "D'oh!" moment, just as mass was beginning. The experience of walking around a Cathedral that is a couple of hundred years old is only amplified by the sound of Mass in the background; it was pretty dang neat. I probably should have saved the Cathedral in Sevilla for the end of my European travels, as every other one I've seen pales in comparison to it. I suppose I'll have to go to Rome and France to revive my interest in Cathedrals.
What WAS impressive, however, was the Capilla Real next door to the Cathedral. The Capilla Real holds the tombs and remains of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, who had adopted Granada as their favorite city and inhabited the palace in the Alhambra for a spell. You weren't allowed to take pictures of the tombs (even though I wanted to soooo badly), but it was pretty impressive how massive and detailed they were. Will told us that on Isabella's tomb, the head was further down in the pillow to symbolize her intelligence. Ferdinand and Isabella's daughter, Juana "the Loco" and her husband are also buried there, next to Ferdi and Izzy. The coolest thing about the burial place is that you climb down a set of stairs below the sarcophagi and see the actual lead coffins of the 4 people. All that separates you from the remains of Spain's most famous monarchs is a pane of plexiglass. As someone who eats up Tudors period tid bits, it felt like history coming to life.
After the Capilla Real, we drove what seemed all over Granada to head back to the Alhambra for our ticket time. We walked through the different gardens and palaces (including one that "belonged" to Carlos V, another Tudors era player-SQUEEE!), saw the temporary exhibit where the landmark lion statues were being restored, and climbed to the top of the look-out tower for a panoramic view of Granada and the Sierra Nevada mountains behind us, all the while having Will give us tour-guide bits to make our visit more interesting. After three hours of walking and endless pictures (check out the Book to see them), we decided to grab some grub.
That's all fine and dandy, but the real gem of Granada is the free tapas that come with every drink. Yep that's right, FREE FOOD. I'm not talking a dish of olives or a basket of bread; I'm saying spicy chicken skewers on toast, potato chips (ok, not that impressive I know, but I hadn't eaten fried food during Lent, so ANYTHING greasy was appealing), all sorts of good stuff. After a few brews and free food, we headed back to the hotel to take a nap and snooze.
Feeling much more refreshed afterwards, we endeavored onto an impromptu bar crawl through the Plaza Nueva, where Dave had told us would be the most hopping. We had driven through it on our way back to the Alhambra earlier and were surrounded by different groups of people in drinking club t-shirts, completely shit-housed and wearing wacky crap like wigs and costumes (belly dancers, etc). There must have been a soccer game on that afternoon, as they were all singing and chanting in the street with their beers. It was like a sight out of Beerfest. And we wanted in.
We started our "free tapas tour" at a place called Circulo, on the corner of two alleys in the Plaza Nueva. Despite the narrowness of the street, it was on the route for the city buses, and we spent our time in the bar cheering on buses who were making the seemingly-impossible turn. From there, we made conclusions about who were the veteran and rookie drivers. Sounds like a wild night, I know. After a few rounds of tapas there, we went to a bar that had fried seafood thingies (like mini octopi) as the free tapa. Following that, we went to a "walk-thru window" at a Moroccan bar, got our tapas, and sat down at a dessert bar right in the Plaza Center. Elliot ruined Will's chances with an American girl sitting next to us when he let out a burp that warranted a disgusted look from the girl. Oh, that classy hubby o' mine. Following that smooth move, we hit up an Irish bar (where the boys drank a 9% ABV beer called Judas), a Japanese bar that had noodles we were all craving, and one last stop that really wasn't anything special to remember. Exhaustion finally caught up to us around midnight, so we got shoarmas and hailed a cab.
I didn't realize that when I ordered a meat shoarma, that the man thought I said "molten lava shoarma", because one bite into that sucker and I felt like a flame-breathing dragon. We made the mistake of not ordering water, so our mouths were on FIRE until we got back to the hotel. Gatorade has never looked more glorious, and I downed the whole bottle in about 2 seconds. I felt like I was in a cartoon, although then I would probably also have to cool off the burning seat of my pants in a puddle on the ground.
The next day, we slept in, got McDonald's, and bid adieu to the city of Granada and its free tapas....
I WANT A FLAMENCO DRESS
As I was saying at the beginning of this post, the Sevilla Feria (Fair) is one of the two main events in the city. We had heard that everyone goes to the Feria, and that it's just a wild street party that lasts for an entire week. We also had heard that men wear suits and women get all dolled up in flamenco dresses. That was about the extent of our Feria knowledge, so anything in addition would be a pleasant surprise.
I had to chaperone an all-day field trip to a nature preserve on Friday (which was surprisingly REALLY fun), so Elliot went sans-Courtney (with my blessing, natch) to Feria with Will, Alex, Ana, Carlos, Bozhena, Will's friend Ellie, and her husband Blake. While I caught up on "My So-Called Life" episodes on Netflix (Jordan Catalano = SWOON), I got texts from Elliot telling me that the Feria was just wild, and that I would love all the different dresses. "Yeah, yeah", I thought, "Probably nothing too nuts." I would later eat my words.
The next night, after a loooong snooze after the field trip, Elliot and I got all dolled up to head into Sevilla. I curled my hair and wore my red NYE dress, and Elliot looked dapper in his black suit with green shirt and tie. We picked up Will and headed into Sevilla around 8:45. After parking at the Montequinto lot and taking the metro to the Blas Infante Feria stop, I was beginning to realize just what Elliot meant about the dresses. GORGEOUS: every different color combo you can imagine, some with lace trimming, some with fringed shawls, some women with the fake flowers and intricate combs on top of their heads, but all looking pretty spectacular. It was decided there and then that I would buy my own flamenco dress for next year's Feria, and I would start looking the week after when prices were much lower (dresses cost between 200 and 1,000 euro).
When we got off the metro, it's like we walked into a giant carnival: the streets were LINED (with no space between) with vendors selling churros, hot chocolate, souvenirs, clothes, crappy plastic toys, anything you can think of at a carnival. The streets were lined with people dressed up in their best flamenco dress or suit. The fairgrounds were filled with neon lights that flashed from the Ferris wheel and different carnival rides. People were walking through the streets with their glasses of sherry and 7-up. And everywhere, people were just partying. It was a true atmosphere of celebration.
In addition to the carnival rides, the main attraction of the Feria are the different "casetas" that are set-up along many streets. Casetas are (traveling) tents that are set up with bars, dance floors, tables, and chairs, and are owned by various people. The only way to get into a caseta is to be invited by the owner, so it pays to have Spanish friends. Each caseta is different from the next, but the air of hospitality remains the same through all of them. The owners are honored to have you as a guest in their caseta and spare no expense to ensure that you have a good time. They shower you with tapas and drinks and have bands come in around 11 so people can dance.
The first caseta we went to was owned by co-workers of Ellie and Blake's. The owner and his wife were INCREDIBLY nice and kept telling me and Elliot that "this was our home now" and that we were always more than welcome to come back. The wife even came up to Elliot, and in broken English said, "Congratulations USA on killing Osama Bin Laden!" and gave him a pitcher of sherry and 7-up (Will kept telling me the name of this drink, but I still forgot). We ate ham and bread, drank our free drinks, and watched the dance floor fill with flamenco dancers when the band started playing. What an amazingly fun atmosphere.
Carlos and Bozhena met up with us, and we made our way to a caseta owned by one of Carlos's friends. Once again, the owners were very nice and offered free drinks and food yet again. The later the night got, the more elaborate the flamenco dresses became, and I creepily snuck pictures of many girls when they weren't looking, so I could get ideas for my future flamenco dress. Despite our best efforts to party with the rest of the city, around 2am everyone was exhausted, so we decided to head back. Elliot, Carlos, Bozhena, and I decided to cut through the fairgrounds to get to the metro. Well of course, we couldn't go through them without going on any rides! How often can you say you went on a haunted house ride at 2am??? Without being in a horror movie, of course. Bozhena and I went on this claw looking ride that twisted around and took you almost upside down. She lost the flower in her hair, and my stomach almost came through my mouth after all those tapas, but we had A BLAST. If you ever get the chance to get hurled into the air at 2am, take it. After that ride, we dragged the boys on the haunted house ride, which was basically a cart that went back and forth, up and down these tracks. It really wasn't scary, except for the worker in a Freddy Kruger mask that ran up and put his plastic knife fingers right up to my neck. Never would fly in the States. The "scariness", however, was countered by Carlos and Elliot screaming (jokingly.... right) like they were little kids, making me almost pee my pants laughing. After walking through the fair a bit more, we hailed a cab to Carlos and Bozhena's place, said goodbye, and hopped on the metro back to our car. We made it back to Utrera around 4:30am or so and zonked out for the next few hours, grateful that we went to Feria.
We continued the party the next day, where Elliot and Will met up with Juan and Carlos for the Sevilla-Real Madrid game. Bozhena and I went shopping and got drinks while the guys were at the game. Tickers were 100 euros a pop, and I'm not a soccer fan. Wouldn't have been worth it for me to go to the game, even if I could have seen Cristiano Ronaldo's 4 goals and shirtless bod (DAMN YOU, HINDSIGHT!). Regardless, we had fun shopping and getting drinks, and somehow ended up next to a group of guys who had come in to Moron for the NASA launch. Small world. The boys joined us, drinks were had, and we were all slightly glad to see Feria end, as it would mean a normal sleep schedule and liver functioning from here on out...
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