tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3110873829655511995.post3898755257217496964..comments2023-06-10T00:01:59.851+02:00Comments on Thoughts from a Mountain: ¡¡¡Estoé Carnavá!!! ¡¡¡Estoé Carnavá!!! ¡¡¡Estoé Carnavá!!!He Who Talks Bollockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279294907163329157noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3110873829655511995.post-51723362525157171282013-03-02T09:26:55.232+01:002013-03-02T09:26:55.232+01:00Please don't get me ranting about Semana Santa...Please don't get me ranting about Semana Santa! After spending more than half my life here, I still object to having such basic rights as crossing or walking along a road removed from me during Easter by a bunch of people dressed up like the Ku Klux Klan accompanying groups of people carrying large tables with life-size statues of JC and his mum on their backs. <br />BTW the parading of gods through the streets in Spring time began in Ancient Greece. So much for the second commandment's strictures against idolatry.<br />This is also a good time to escape from Seville, but unfortunately as it's a school holiday in most, if not all, European countries it's also a peak season for the travel/tourist industry. He Who Talks Bollockshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15279294907163329157noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3110873829655511995.post-41844577775162920562013-03-02T04:36:04.964+01:002013-03-02T04:36:04.964+01:00The existence of Feria and Semana Santa had me con...The existence of Feria and Semana Santa had me convinced I had been born in the wrong city, possibly the wrong country. I can't agree more with: "If you live in Seville, this is a great time to escape and visit other cities..." Pink Pantherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14723371953969153563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3110873829655511995.post-84993205700040026612013-02-28T17:53:54.320+01:002013-02-28T17:53:54.320+01:00When I went to Seville as a student, I missed Carn...When I went to Seville as a student, I missed <i>Carnaval</i> and, in fact, until I read about it here, had no idea that there was such a thing.<br /><br />The first thing that hit us <i>ingleses</i> was Semana Santa with its interminable processions of people dressed up like the Ku Klux Klan (I assume the latter derived their uniform from the Spaniards).<br /><br />I was bemused by the penitents of the <i>cofradías</i>, amazed by the heavy <i>pasos</i> with the sweating men carrying them, and astonished by the <i>saetas</i> sung (theoretically) spontaneously by by-standers. If you wanted to get across town in a hurry, it was a pain because you would find your route blocked by a barely moving procession and you were not allowed to cross through it.<br /><br />I heard a no doubt apocryphal tale. It was said that one of the penitents was suspected to be a woman when only men are allowed in the procession. How could they verify the suspicion as it was prohibited to unmask a penitent? Easy: they pinched her bottom and when she cried out in a woman's voice, they knew they had caught their man, er, woman.<br /><br />Feria was exciting and fun and really picturesque: all those costumed men and woman riding fiery horses! For us students, the disadvantage was that all prices were literally doubled: our landlady doubled the rent, our favourite cafe doubled the price of meals and, moreover, removed all the bar stools, expecting a huge crush.<br /><br />I remember my months in Seville as a magical time. I knew so little about life, even in England, and so Spain seemed like an exotic place, a land of romance and dreams. Even the horrid Franco regime seemed to add a seasoning of danger.<br /><br />My Seville, though, is remote not only in space but also in time. I cannot go there again. Were I to visit Seville today, it would be a different Seville. Maybe I would learn to love it again but I think it would always be haunted by the dreams of a young student experiencing a strange new world.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com