Life: Idiotropic

6 hours from Valencia to Salamanca... may be a bit more with stops.  One mini-van, 4 kids, a dog, two friends following in their "beast," a Toyota something that makes our van look small.  Kirk drives and I am armed with my anniversary present from him, my new Canon 7D and quite possible my new best friend.  ;)

Spain is beautiful.  And as much as Kirk and I grumble about little things, those little quirky oddities about living here in Valencia, Spain itself is varied and breathtaking as you drive across it.  Once again we marveled at the rolling hills, fields of green, herds of sheep, snow capped mountains, castles, stoney villages, stork nests, and huge boulders... so many landscapes to take in.  Not enough time.  Only fleeting moments with my camera poised at the passenger window - an attempt to capture enough to jog my memory later.

We arrived in Salamanca at 4:30, found our hotel, and began the nightmarish adventure that is parking in a European underground parking garage.  Narrow turns, centimeters to spare, tight spots.  A lot of holding my breath, gripping the door handle, and closing my eyes.  Thankfully, Kirk was driving and my car made that part of the journey without a scratch.  Our friends' "beast" found a friendlier spot near the railroad tracks a 10 minute walk away.

Ready for a walk, we took children and dog to the Plaza Mayor to see the historic center and to find food.  Normally, it is quite easy to find dog-friendly patio seating at all hours, but even in this touristy area, most patios were closed.  We went from restaurant to restaurant looking for a place that was "dog-friendly."  "A smaller dog, yes, but..."  "If it wasn't so crowded, yes, but..."  "On the patio, yes, but, today it's closed..."

Mid-search we hard drums, made our way out of the plaza to the street, and saw a bit of a Holy Week parade through the throngs of people already assembled there.  On tippy toes I could see bits of purple hooded men- these with rounded hoods, not the pointy ones of paintings I've seen.  A few minutes was all I could take.  Without a good view for photos, what's the point?

We finally found a small "bar" just outside the Plaza that served decent (though not spectacular) food and, after some hesitation, allowed our Logan a place under the booth where we sat.  Logan was quite and sweet the entire meal.  I'm sure most fellow diners didn't even realize that our "large dog" was there.  Nothing special though... chicken, salads, pizzas, calamari.  Actually, the calamari was good.  Calamari in Spain is nearly always good.

An easy walk back, time to wear out dog and kids.  Settling in for the night.  Then at 10 our friend, Jeff, and myself, both armed with our new 7Ds, took a walk back towards the Cathedral to see the "big parade," the "most beautiful one" that would begin in the Cathedral at midnight.

At 1045 we ran into the last 20  minutes of what I think was the parade we saw before dinner.  More men in purple carrying large Easter themed floats - no bunnies here - these all depict the last week of Christ's life.  Very serious.


Purple, pink, green, red, white, blue... the robes and hoods came in all colors.  In sections.  Different groups - brotherhoods - wearing different robes.  Some carried crosses and wore thorn crowns.  Some carried metal cylinders swinging them back and forth to distribute the pungent smelling smoke flowing from them.  Men, women, children.  Barefoot and polished dress shoes.  Glasses of all kinds, red frames, wire...  Normal people participating in a very serious event.  People weren't loud, but it wasn't silent either. 

The crowds were reasonable.  It was easy to stand right in front at the edge of slow moving procession where the floats rocked slowly and gently back and forth to the perfect cadence of the bearers as they shuffled slowly by, right foot, left foot...





As soon as the final people went by, we turned towards the cathedral and saw what I think was the beginning of this same parade passing in front of us from our right.  This time green hoods, more floats, children.  Nuns in the window across from us cleaning the black iron rails and watching.



The lady in the hotel explained to me how beautiful the procession of the "Virgen de la Soledad" is each year.  I studied the map in the newspaper.  She told me that the Calle de los Palominos has some of the best views. 

Along the street nearest the cathedral a line of onlookers had already gathered, the line lengthening as we watched.  From all directions people in all shapes and sizes dressed in long black robes approached the cathedral carrying their pointed hoods.  Some stood in circles smoking cigarettes while they waited.  The parade would begin inside the Cathedral, leave out the back side, loop around, then go down the street where we eventually stood.

The crowds weren't thick yet, so we walked.  Found gates set up around the doorway of the Church of San Esteban just a kilometer (or less) away.  Locals there told me that the procession would arrive at 1am when a "virgen" would come out of that church, meet with the procession, and go with it to the Plaza Mayor.  At 2am when the "virgen" arrives, all the lights will go out in the Plaza Major and a song will be sung.

So tempting, but 2am?  We didn't end up waiting.

Instead we waited with the growing crowd along Calle de los Palominos with a view of the Cathedral.  The crowd wasn't noisy, but there was the normal hum of activity that exists when any large number of people are gathered.  Midnight.  The parade should be starting.  We waited.  At 0025 we could see them in the distance.  The crowd immediately hushed.  It was silent.

At 0031 the beginning passed by.  No color.  Just black.  Cloaks and pointed hoods.  Carrying long candles that dripped wax on their black gloves, lanterns, more pungent smoke things...  People walked along towards the beginning of the procession carrying candles.  Everyone was serious.  There wasn't a sound other than the footsteps on pavement.  Moments I held my camera still at my side, feeling the seriousness of the moment and the sternness of the costume.  Some moments it just didn't feel right to take a picture.  The crowd was pushed back to the walls in this stretch and the men in black walked on the outer edges of the street seemingly protecting the participants within those boundaries.  It is hard to read the expression in those eyes staring out of small holes in the black cloth.  The entire vision is a bit intimidating partially because of the image that it conjures to me, the American.  It is scary.  But here in Spain, they are penitent, not prosecutors.  They shouldn't be scary here.

We saw ladies cloaked in black carrying blue candles.  More ladies with black lace veils sitting high on their heads, then trailing behind them.  Children without hoods handed snacks by their mothers.  Children talking together quietly, the only break in the somber mood of the event.

45 minutes of silence and a sea of pointed black hoods.

Two "Pasos."  One smaller one with three angels at the cross, then "la Virgen."  She was last and like the others I'd seen, she rocked back and forth slowly as they walked.  Close to 50 men holding her up keeping cadence for 4 hours in this procession.  She would return to the Cathedral at 4am.

I didn't last that long.  The "once-in-a-lifetime" argument in me lost to the "gotta-get-up-early-and-drive-again-tomorrow" and we walked through the well-lit Plaza Major at 0130 knowing that just 30 minutes later we could see darkness and hear the singing.  Nope.  Sleep beckons. 

No regrets.  Can't photograph darkness anyway.  ;)

MORE PHOTOS:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=207313&id=674507268&l=ede1e55519