Number one stop: Sevilla. I absolutely loved it here. It was beautiful, and the weather was (mostly) nice, and we were there a sufficient number of days. We also got in the day before Easter and left the day after, so we got to see the famous Processions and Easter/Lent celebrations of Semana Santa, and we went to the famous Catedral de Sevilla for Easter service. Plus, perfect timing, the bullfighting season had just begun, so we got to experience that as well.
We had the best food when in Sevilla too, hands down. The most amazing tapas for the best prices. Ridiculously good paella. Once place, called Bodega Santa Cruz, was packed and you had to stand crowded around tiny tall tables, but it was so worth it—there was this spinach-cheese tapa that I could have ate a pint of. If you want the best food in Spain, go to Sevilla!
We got to see a Procession, which was really interesting. All throughout Holy Week, different Christian brotherhoods carry pasos, images of usually the Virgin Mary or Christ, from their home churches to the Catedral and back—those farther away can walk up to 15 hours! Plus, they carry the pasos, about 25-40 men for what can weigh as much as a metric ton. In one of the pictures I got a peek at their feet underneath this mammoth paso of the Virgin Mary. Those in the procession wear long robes and pointed hoods, with the color corresponding to their brotherhood. The ones we saw were white—and no, they are in no way related to the Klan. It was just really fun and interesting to view and be a part of a festival I’ve learned about in school—what are the odds I would be in the city just at the right time?
Easter morning we wore our nicest clothes (which still weren’t quite Easter-nice) and went to service at the Catedral. It was funny, though, because we were actually among some of the better-dressed people. Everyone in there was a tourist, for the most part. It makes sense, because anyone who lives in Sevilla would have their own local church or brotherhood with services to attend. We weren’t allowed to take pictures, but it was just a lot of music and incense-waving and walking slowly and ceremoniously around. I understood all the scriptures, though, and the main address, which made me feel pretty good. We were there for almost three hours—we got there a half hour early and got really good seats about 5 hard wooden benches back and a little to the side, and the service lasted over 2 hours. I was just glad to be in a church for Easter, even if it was Catholic and in a different language, and it was, again, just another really cool experience to now have had.
Easter afternoon we went on a free walking tour provided by our hostel, and it was great. It was three hours exploring most of the major landmarks, buildings, and monuments of the city, and our guide was really knowledgeable. It was everything I’d been missing in all the other cities—the history! Learning! I absolutely hate visiting amazing, important sites and just looking at it, thinking, “Huh, that’s nice.” I need to know why it’s important, what happened here? I learned not only about the history of the main parts of Sevilla, but little things too, like why one street was named Calle de Muertos (round up of the Jews during the Inquisition) or why there was a tile with a skull painted on it (references a crazy story about a girl who chose her lover over her family, regretted it, became a nun and had the archbishop’s babies before killing herself and asking that her skull be displayed as a warning) that I wouldn’t even have noticed otherwise. It was great, and made me fall even more in love with Sevilla!
It had been sunny and warm all day, but right as the walking tour ended there was a sudden flash thunderstorm. We thought we were closer to our hostel than we thought, and tried to make it back. We were completely soaked, running through the downpour, but for some reason we couldn’t stop laughing! We must have looked just ridiculous. Of course, it ended two minutes after we reached the hostel—we should have just waited it out under an awning!
We stayed two feet from the Plaza de Toros so I asked the people running our hostel about bullfighting. Apparently, the opening day of the fighting season was Easter, so we timed our trip perfectly to see one. We asked about tickets. They laughed and said for Easter we could maybe find some if we wanted to spend 100 euro. We asked about the day after, and everyone we talked to said, “Pshh, don’t go, it’s bad bullfighting”. Bad bullfighting? I just want to see it, I’m not enough of an aficionado to know good from bad! (Actually, you can tell, we discovered; it often took them more than one try to kill the bull with the sword at the end (called estocada), or their banderillas, barbed sticks, wouldn’t be placed as nicely into the bulls back). Still, it was fascinating to be there. The Plaza de Toros is a big oval with rows of cement benches, and they cram you in there with all the other spectators, knees in each other’s backs and elbows all over the place—it’s very tight. Since it was “bad bullfighting”, it was either the season ticket-holder types or tourists like us; we heard every language possible around us. Of course, we had the ditzy American girls behind us that wouldn’t shut up with the “Awww, poor bull! Let’s leave, we should leave, we should protest!” Why did you pay 35 euro to get in, then? Or there was the guy who obviously had never seen a bullfight in his life but by virtue of being there knew everything there is to know about the subject and constantly critiqued everything. There were a few little old Spanish men near us who actually knew what they were talking about, and I got to use my Spanish on a couple occasions to get a better picture of what was going on.
There are many different stages, each signaled by trumpet sound. First a group of toreros wave the cape around at the bull to test it. Then a man on horseback comes in to stab the bull with a lance, I guess to weaken it. The bull charges the horse, who is covered on all sides by armor and is completely blindfolded. Then the various toreros try to stick the two banderillas into the bull’s back, further weakening the bull. Finally, the main matador reenters the ring with his red cape and sword, and makes the typical passes with the bull before stabbing it through the shoulder-blades and down into the heart. There are three main matadors, and each gets two bulls to kill. Once the bull is dead, they cut off the ear as a prize if the torero did a good job, tie the bull’s corpse to a team of horses, and trot it around and out the stadium.
It was spell-binding to watch, gruesome as it may sound. And the crowd reactions, such an important part of the fight, were just as interesting—I never knew what to do! There was generally a hush over the stadium, and you were shushed for talking. But every once in a while—and I never could pick up on the signal or event to start it—the crowd would “Ole!” together, or collectively made a “OOOSHH!” exhale of air, or even burst into cheers. Once or twice there was a clap clap clap, clap clap clap, that, when I asked the old man, meant that the crowd thought it was a bad bull and wanted it to be sent back and another to be brought out.
The expressions and movements of the toreros was fun to watch too. We had pretty decent seats, about five rows back from the front, although most of the action happened off to the side of us in front of the main gate. One bull did wander over and was killed right in front of us—it was amazing. I still don’t know quite what I think of the whole thing, but it was just such an experience! I’m so glad that I went, I know I’m not really describing it very well. I took a couple shaky videos for you to see, they should be with the photos on Flickr.
Sorry this one was so long, but it was my favorite and I had a lot to say about it! Anyone who is traveling to Spain, I highly recommend a stop in Sevilla; it’s beautiful and interesting and I had a wonderful time there!
Flickr photos for Sevilla:http://www.flickr.com/photos/rachelgoesgreek/sets/72157626489947105/
No comments:
Post a Comment