My “spring break” abroad started in a BlaBlaCar with my Andaluz roommate and two strangers seated in front of us. I remember their conversation being simple such as asking where they were from and what they were doing for work/school. After some time went by, the man in the passenger seat turned around and asked me why I was so quiet. My roommate immediately shouted that I am “estadounidense” and the expression on the men’s faces was one I will never forget. Throughout the rest of the ride from Madrid, my roommate and I played cards over the rear center console. At this moment, I had a feeling my roommate was regretting bringing me because I learned that the translation for “ace” is “as.” I couldn’t stop laughing.
Our first stop on our Semana Santa getaway was Jaén, Spain. I was obsessed with this small city and all of the locals thought I was “graciosa” for my admiration.
The balconies across the way from where I watched my first procession.
The first morning I woke up was Domingo de Ramos – the first day of the Semana Santa celebrations. We began eating breakfast on a porch with an amazing view. I had just met my roommate’s best friend María who invited a total stranger, me, to stay at her house for a few nights. The rush began immediately after our breakfast. The girls were fighting over space in the mirror to put on makeup while holding up different dresses to wear to the festivities of the day. I don’t wear makeup and had brought one white sundress which attracted many “Primera Comunión” jokes. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
The view from breakfast the morning of Domingo de Ramos.
A few hours later, we ended up at another friend of my roommate’s house standing on a balcony that overlooked the procession that was soon to come by. There was these huge candlelit thrones that were carried through the streets surrounded by hundreds of men and women in cone-shaped hoods and robes. It was undoubtedly my first thought to compare these outfits to those of the Klu Klux Klan, but this Spanish tradition has been in their rituals for a much longer period of time. “¡Qué extraño!” was my first reaction to these outfits. To my surprise, I was quickly corrected by the father of the household. “Nos decimos ‘raro’, ¡Qué raro!” I still don’t understand the difference between the two, but my many mistakes in my second language Spanish skills lead to locals turning to my roommate and saying “Ella es muy graciosa.” This happened over and over again. Honestly, sometimes it wasn’t all so bad to play around with my broken Spanish. As we were leaving the apartment where I watched my first procession of the day, I turned to the father and said with a smile on my face “Gracias por su ventana.” I know I sounded stupid, but to be completely honest, I had no idea how to say balcony in Spanish. I got my point across and was even extended an invitation back whenever I would like.
A Nazareno dropping melted candle wax to a child’s a ball of tin foil.
We spent the rest of the day roaming around the packed streets running into no exaggeration at least a dozen more processions. Each procession had different colored cone hoods on the nazarenos and a different depiction of Mary and Jesus on their thrones. My favorite part of these processions was La Levantá. Every so often, the Costaleros, those who carry the thrones down the streets, would switch out to catch a break. Once the new Costaleros were under the throne, they would pick up the throne on cue. There was so much cheering as the precious, flower-covered thrones were shot into the air.
An “imagen” of Mary being lifted around the tight street corner.
On our last morning in Jaén, we went for breakfast with a few of my roommate’s local friends. I will never forget the tears that were shed around this small coffee shop table. One of my roommate’s friends had the honor of being a Costalero in a procession that was set to occur later in the week. Unfortunately, the throne was broken, so he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to participate in this religious ceremony. I felt so bad for this young man, but I also have never seen someone my age with such religious passion. Shocked and empathetic, I wasn’t sure how to react in this situation.
Over the following few days, I must have seen dozens of processions and Marys and Jesuses floating through the streets. This was an experience that not many people can relate to, which was why I was excited to share. After our time spent in Jaén, my roommate/tour guide brought me to more cities in Andalucía. I am so grateful for this traditional Semana Santa experience.