Never have I experienced anything so, if you'll excuse the cliche, spine-tingling, as Easter in Spain. I have read about the atmosphere, seen photos of the immaculately decorated floats (Tronos) and watched the emotive processions on TV. But none of that prepared me for what I was about to experience on arrival in Jerez de la Frontera, in the heart of Andalucía.
We arrived in Jerez on the night of Maundy Thursday and were instantly drawn into the overwhelming ambience which had been building up with daily processions since Palm Sunday. We followed the din of the pounding drums, not really knowing what to expect as we approached the crowd ahead. There were hundreds of people all seeming impatient, children on the shoulders of their fathers blowing toy trumpets, women dressed as if going to a funeral. The volume of the music grew to a thunderous level. And then there it was: the first Trono we had ever seen in real life: Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. It was lit with hundreds of candles which cast shadows on the face of Our Lady, and as she drew closer, she seemed to look me straight in the eye. She was so beautiful, dressed in her exquisite, flowing burgundy and gold velvet gown. The first of many shivers prickled the back of my neck as the spicy scent of incense infiltrated my nostrils.
We finally retired to bed in the early hours of Friday morning after following the procession and then joining hundreds of hungry Spaniards for tapas. As the processions go on all through the night, our sleep was disturbed on several occasions by trumpet blast and thumping drums outside our hotel! But it didn't matter; it was an accepted part of the celebrations.
The morning of Good Friday was spent darting from street to street trying to head off the processions to get a full frontal view. We saw three different brotherhoods that morning, each parading their own spectacularly ornate Trono. I read that the brotherhoods spend months preparing for the Easter processions; practicing their marches and polishing those amazing floats. You can see the evidence of this as soon as you lay eyes on them.
The Good Friday processions are followed by penitents who wear the renowned pointed headdresses and flowing gowns. Men, women and children were marching in these costumes, carrying large candles and heavy crosses. Some of them were barefoot.
The morning processions subsided around lunchtime and all fell quiet in Jerez, leaving us to visit some of the sights.
At around 5pm, that now familiar beating drum stimulated a distant band to strike up their notorious sound. We joined the hundreds of eager onlookers lining the streets just outside our hotel. The distinct and mesmerising sound of the band drew closer in a gradual crescendo and we saw, in the distance, the first of many Tronos approaching. A feeling of wonderment came over me.
The Tronos were led by priests, dressed in immaculate purple robes trimmed with crisp white lace. The priests swung their incense burners continuously, bellowing the intoxicating aroma into the warm evening air.
Just before it reached us, the parade came to a halt. The band stopped playing, and so began El Silencio. Everyone was quiet, even the young children. The silence lasted for a few minutes and was incredibly moving. At this point, on two or three occasions over the weekend, we witnessed a member of the crowd breaking into a saeta, an impromptu Flamenco style song. The singers' passion was profound; tears fell and hands pounding their chests. They sang praise, and heartfelt applause and tears from the crowd followed.
When the procession was ready to move off again one of the brethren would tap three times on the front of the Trono, then one drum would start beating slowly, joined by another, then another, and then all of a sudden, the Trono would be lifted with a mighty gasp from the crowd and a cry of guapa. The band launched into one of its emotive numbers, and the march started again.
One of the most emotive sights we witnessed was when the Tronos would sway in time with the music. Imagine being totally indulged in the rhythm of the band so that you subconsciously start to move in time with it. You see the Trono approaching, filling you with awe. The brethren carrying the float have an arduous job just lifting it, but now they are moving from side to side, making it sway so that the statue on it appears to be walking towards you, one shoulder in front of the other. They don't do it often, but when they do, the brethren are rewarded with heartfelt applause by the crowd.
There were no processions on Easter Saturday which gave us the opportunity to enjoy even more sightseeing in Jerez and take the smooth and efficient Andalucía Express into Cádiz.
On the morning of Easter Sunday, we excitedly left our hotel and followed the crowds to one of the main squares where we could see the procession approaching in the distance. The mood in the crowd was different from Good Friday: upbeat, not sombre. Everyone was dressed to impress in vibrant colours rather than the black of the past few days of mourning.
The music was triumphant instead of sombre and the church bells resonated their passionate chimes whilst the parade marched past. The parade was a real patchwork of colour and people: women wearing white mantillas held in place with ornate brooches; immaculately dressed children carrying candles and ringing little bells; local dignitaries flaunting their pristine banners.
The procession lasted two hours and culminated at the Cathedral, where the achingly heavy Trono bearing Christ of the Resurrection was carried, with utter eminence, up steps and slopes, to the entrance, where in a rapture of applause, it disappeared inside and all fell quiet around Jerez.
At around 5pm, crowds started to reconvene outside the cathedral and with a solo trumpet blast, the doors of the cathedral opened wide and out came every Trono that had been involved in the week-long processions. This Easter Sunday evening we saw some of the best parades of the weekend. The feeling in the crowd was uplifted, the mood one of hope, happiness and joy, and even the incense smelt different - sweeter.
This weekend was a tremendous experience. I would recommend Semana Santa in Spain to be in the top five on any Traveller's Wish List.
I did some homework before deciding in which Spanish city to spend Easter. It was clear that some of the best processions were to be witnessed in Seville, but the sheer depth of the crowds would make it impossible to get the close-up views I wanted. From my research, it seemed that Andalucía would be a good choice, and that a weekend in Jerez de la Frontera would also give me the chance to visit the bodegas of the sherry-producing giants and also witness the Flamenco and Equestrian heritage for which it is famed.
Before we left for Jerez, I obtained a timetable from the Tourist Office website, so that I could see which Brethren were marching, where and when. This proved very useful. Information booklets were also available from the Tourist Office in Jerez.
Now I have experienced the breathtaking atmosphere. I have witnessed the spectacular centuries old Tronos graced with statues of religious figures, overflowing with fresh and silk flowers, mighty candles oozing molten wax stood in gleaming gold and silver candelabras, all set on intricately carved and highly polished wood. I have merged into the processions and indulged each one of my senses in the music and rhythm of the parades.
Now I really feel like I have been a part of true Spanish culture, albeit for just a few days.
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