Good Friday

Despite a rather late night on Thursday, I was up with the larks on Good Friday morning, so I could make a batch of hot cross buns. It is so nice to have a proper cooker to use again after six months at the flat without one. The kitchen soon smelled lovely and spicey, and by a late breakfast/early lunch, we were able to sit down to warm buns which were very nice, even if I shouldn't say so myself.

We then set off to the little town of Turre, just five minutes drive from here, because the local paper said they have one of the better 'small town' Good Friday processions. It was well worth going to. The town has three hermanadades or brotherhoods, each responsible for a different part of the ceremony. They each started their bit of the procession with an adult carrying a banner, accompanied by children wearing the costume of their group. The first was white, then green, and finally purple, the traditional colours in the church for Easter. Behind this group came the trono (throne) carrying a statue which was dressed in beautiful robes and flanked by gorgeous banks of flowers. The tronos were carried on long poles resting on the shoulders of several men and women. They were very heavy, and you could see the strain on the carriers faces every time they had to stop and lower the statue, and then raise it again. Many of them have to walk 'blind' as they are directly facing the base of the throne, and cannot see the path. One man walks on either side to ensure the throne remains level and stable, and he adjusts the steps of the carriers, or changes them around to ensure it stays even. They walk with a strange gait, stepping sideways and back again so the whole thing sort of sways from side to side. Each trono has a large metal knocker on it and one man bangs on this periodically to maintain the steady pace and to tell the carriers when to stop , lower or raise the trono, so they all work in unison. It is all very well orchestrated. We watched the three sections leave the church and pass us, accompanied by a very good band, who played very slow music in some places, and quite cheerful music in others. Then we walked down a side road and came out on the main road through the town where there were more people, so we waited there to see what else was going to happen. Soon after this, the procession came round the corner. At the square the first trono (bearing the virgin) stopped. Then the band played some lovely music and marched away up the road. Next the second trono came to the first one and they had a sort of 'face-off'. They turned so the two statues were facing each other. And then we were taken by surprise when the second one was lifted up and the carriers ran with it up the road. Everyone clapped and cheered and then they ran down again. Then they lifted it up really high for a few minutes and lowered it again. This was no mean feat considering the weight of them. They did this several times with the crowd getting more and more excited. Then the trono with the virgin on it was lifted and they ran up the hill with that, before they all disappeared round the corner. We heard the band again in the distance so we followed the sound and found the procession in a very narrow street and it had now been joined by the third trono again, (depicting the crucifixion). They all walked solemnly back to the church. It was a very strange, but moving celebration. I have no idea what the bit in the middle was all about. It seemed very bizarre, and not at all in keeping with the rest of a very serious occasion. It was almost as though each group was saying 'Look at us. We are the strongest. See what we can do!' We wondered if that is how it had started many years ago. A contest of prowess between the brotherhoods that gradually became adopted into the tradition. I certainly can think of no religious significance for it. There were a lot of people of all ages involved in the procession, but no-one else followed behind it like they had done on Maundy Thursday. This time the rest of the townsfolk, and the tourists, were spectators. I am enjoying finding out about the local traditions.

I am including a picture of each trono, but there will be more images on my gallery. It is hard to give much idea of what it was like in pictures, so I took some videos on my phone and I will try to add a couple below this. I hope you can manage to play them.

Down came the rain!

Tuesday dawned warm and sunny so I set off to stock up on lovely fresh fruit and veg from the village market. I came home and said to Chris how hot it was. I'd have liked to sit outside in the sun but I decided to set off to the neighbouring town of Turre to do some supermarket shopping for our visitors first, as I wasn't sure how much the shops would be open over the Easter weekend. I parked a way from the supermarket as it was so sunny, and had a browse along the street first. Then I did my shopping and came through the checkout, only to find that the heavens had opened and we had a thunderstorm of monsoon proportions. It certainly rivalled anything we saw in Thailand. I sheltered at the entrance of the shop for a while and then the rain seemed to ease a bit so I decided to go for the car anyway. It is only a five minute drive home and I would soon be able to change if I got a bit damp. So I set off for the car and just as I did, there was another loud clap of thunder and I was pelted with huge hail stones. Then I realised that I was parked on the other side of the road which was by now a raging river, so I paddled across, much to the amusement of three Spanish lads who drove passed me in a van, tooting and shouting at me!! I dripped my way inside a few minutes later, like a little drowned rat, and had to change every stitch I was wearing. Needless to say, by then the sun was out again. Click on this link to get the idea. Chris filmed this from our porch. The houses do not have gutters (there's not a lot of need) so the water from the roof pours down wherever it can.

Of course, the flowers in the garden are only too happy to have some rain. I said I would show you some of them so here are a few. First the orange blossom which continues to fill the air with it's heady perfume. This bright pink daisy grows rampantly over rough ground and in gardens. We passed a house the other day that had a whole wall covered in it. It was also growing in abundance on the beach at El Calón and when we left the flat I brought a small piece with me and put it in a pot on our patio. It seems to be thriving and this flower is on my little cutting. Lovely, isn't it? And finally I thought this one was rather interesting. It is in a pot at the side of our house, and it was looking pretty dried out and sad when we came here. But we have been watering it and cutting back the dying bits and it is now covered in buds which open to produce this mass of red fillaments. I have no idea what it is called. There are more flower pictures in the 'Our new home' folder on my gallery.

Today was another bright, warm day so we decided to have our first barbeque of the year. Chris and John did the cooking while Jenny and I prepared salads and a big jug of sangria.We decided to try something new, so at the supermarket we bought a tray of globe artichokes, which are eaten a lot out here. None of us had tried them or knew what to do with them, so we looked them up on the internet and settled on roasting them and making a mayonnaise and balsamic vinegar dip. They were different and not unpleasant, though they weren't overly exciting either. Still it's good to try new things. We sat in our little sun trap at the back of the house to eat our meal, and it was all lovely.

Then later tonight we walked up to the village church to watch the Maundy Thursday procession. At 10.00 this evening, two large statues (one was the Virgin de Carmen, our village saint, but I don't know who the other one was) were carried from the church around the village, on the shoulders of strong men. They are very heavy, and carrying them is an opportunity to do penance. They were accompanied by a band playing very distinctive music which I loved, and other penitants who wore black robes and pointed hats that are intended to disguise their identity. We joined the crowd of local people who walked behind the statues around all the little roads of the village and back to the church. It took over an hour. At various points along the route, everyone stopped and the band stopped playing, while one man 'sang' a chant which is based on a flamenco gypsy chant. Each time, he was applauded and then we moved on again. It was good to be a part of this old tradition.