Semana Santa

On Friday, March 25th, we flew back to Granada from Marrakesh.  Lucky for us, we landed early in the day and even luckier for us, although it was Good Friday, the grocery stores were open!  Can I get an amen?!  This is all so very lucky for us because we discovered we were locked out of our house.  We left the garage door opener in the last rental car that we returned 10 days ago and neither Michael nor I remembered to bring a key to the front door.

Plan A: Lauren, Clio and Willa try to break in with a credit card and a bobby pin while Michael calls around trying to track people down on a holiday weekend.  

(Michael leaves a lot of voice mails while I teach my kids how to break & enter, but we are still locked out so we move on to Plan B.  

Plan B: Go Shopping.

A few hours later, after filling the car with groceries, we finally hear back from Rosario, the owner of our house.  She tells us that we are, again, in luck.  Her 90 year-old father has a spare key.  We drive to his apartment and the girls are shocked, though Michael and I are not, that picking up a spare key from an elderly man in Granada takes about 45 minutes to an hour.  There are many pleasantries to exchange (and dialogue to be translated).  We have to go out on the balcony and see the view and then the piano and then meet the eleven grandchildren that are visiting from Madrid.

But finally we are back in our house, the groceries are put away, the luggage is inside, and a load of laundry has begun.  But don't even think about getting in your pajamas and calling it a day because it is Good Friday and there are parades in town and we must go see them.  For we have heard many, many things about these parades - that they are quite a spectacle, authentically Spanish, specifically Andalusian, a major tradition, and are not to be missed.  (No, we can't we just watch a YouTube video of it on our laptop, I already asked).

“Parade” is probably not an accurate translation since it will connote to my American friends and family something along the lines of big bands, big balloons, smiles and waving, beer, and tissue paper on top of flat-bed trucks.  But what if I said “Penance Procession?”  Now that sounds fun.

During Semana Santa, each church in the city has a scheduled time to parade their paso from their church to the large cathedral in the center of town.  Pasos are floats depicting either Jesus, Mary, a saint, or scenes from the gospels related to the Passion of Christ or the Sorrows of Virgin Mary, some of them are centuries old  We stare in wonder and my kids have some questions.

Clio: “Mom, how long was Jesus on the cross?”

Me: I can't remember, honey.  A few hours or maybe a couple of days or something like that.

Clio: That long?  (slight pause)  He must have been really bored.

Me: (speechless)

Clio: “Mom, at school I learned that Jesus was god.”

Me: “Ok.”

Clio: “Was he god?”

Me: (trying to figure out what to say)

Clio: "Mom?"

Me: “For the next six months, yes.”

Clio: “So if he was god, why couldn’t he just get himself off the cross?”

Me: "Clio, eat your ham."


And then there were my questions about a woman that I see depicted all over the city – in windows, on tee shirts, in posters hanging on walls and doors and cash registers, in plastic molds hanging above a bar, above a slot machine - e-v-e-r-ywhere.

Lauren: "Who is that?"

Michael: "Who is who?  The Virgin Mary?"

Lauren: "That’s the Virgin Mary?  She's so fancy.  When I was in Kindergarten I was the Virgin Mary in the Christmas play and I had to wear an old blue sheet with a rope tied around my waist.  I didn't get to wear that awesome get-up."
Michael: (trying desperately to ignore his wife)
Lauren: "I'm kind of scared to ask you this, but what is she crying about?" 
Michael: "Are you kidding me??  She’s crying over the death of her son, Jesus.  Have you heard of him?"
Lauren:  "Yes, I have heard of Jesus, but let me just say that I watch the news and that is not what a woman looks like when she has lost her child.  That’s what a woman looks like when she’s watching a Meg Ryan movie.  So you'll forgive me if I'm a little confused."

And while we are on the topic of confusing religious symbols, we have to talk about the nazarenos for a minute - the “penitents” who walk behind the pasos during the penance procession.  They carry candles or crosses, some walk barefoot, some carry shackles and chains on their feet.  Serious stuff.  Bear in mind, a single procession can last hours, not only because the procession goes slowly through the streets but then they have to walk back.  (I can't imagine some of them don't just ditch and just jump in cab).  But most notably, and disturbingly for Americans, the nazarenos wear long robes and tall, conical hats that cover their faces and hide their identities.

So now you have to imagine seeing “penitents” completely out of context, for example in a gift store as a figurine that you can buy and take home with you as a souvenir.  You will, for a very brief moment, feel like you are having a small heart attack, and you may, in fact, be dying a little inside.  Or maybe you will wonder if you are hallucinating from the all the jamon you ate the night before.

Our American friends who have visited this year see these guys on the shelf while we are souvenir shopping and then look around anxiously for me, with horror and wtf in their eyes, desperate to confirm what they are seeing.  “Um, Lauren…???”  "It's ok, it's ok," I tell them.  "Everything's going to be alright.  It’s a religious figure.  No, I'm not lying to you?  But I do find it's best not to touch them.  Should we move on?  Look, there are glittery elephants and sparkly pillowcases over here.  Hey!  Do you want to go see Cellphone Jesus??!!

Here's one last thing - our video from the evening, in all it's wobbly glory: