28th March: Semana Santa

At 5.45 on Saturday morning I was rudely awoken by a phone call from someone who I’m sure will be grateful to remain nameless, who then proceeded to come to my flat despite the fact I had to leave for the bus station an hour and a half later. Needless to say, I was not impressed, and said person did not receive the warmest of welcomes.

Exhausted before the day had even begun, I met my friends at the bus station at 7.30 for our seven-hour journey to Córdoba. As is always the way in these situations, despite our exhaustion no one managed to get a good sleep on the journey – and I didn’t manage to sleep at all. On the plus side, we had some good conversations and the time passed quickly. We were so relaxed on the comfortable coach we were almost reluctant to get off when we pulled in at the bus station at just before 3pm.

We’d seen the weather forecast for the following few days so were under no illusions of a nice sunny break, but nevertheless it was fairly disappointing when we emerged into cool drizzle and grey sky. Having realised that our directions to the hostel in fact started from the airport and not from the bus station, we went in quest of a city plan and managed to devise a route of our own. Our first impressions of the place were good; it was a pretty town, if not the slightly larger city we’d envisioned, with lots of cafes, parks and cobbled streets. Not only this, but the high street was home to the obligatory Zara, Pull & Bear, Bershka and Stradivarius, as well as the accessory store Six, which I’d fallen in love with in Germany.

We found the hostel fairly easily after walking past it once, finding it tucked away in a little corner. It was an unusual set-up – a sort of long, tiled hallway leading to a solitary desk, and then tiny stairways and passages leading to the dormitories. Ours was, inevitably, up several flights of stairs – just what we needed after dragging our cases up all those cobbled streets. It seemed comfortable enough, and we were quite happy with it until we found out there were only two toilets and one shower in the entire building. Unfortunately, with it being Semana Santa, all the best hostels had been booked up well in advance and the prices had gone up accordingly.

After a quick freshening-up, we headed back into town, stopping on the way for a drink and a bite to eat in a tapas bar. Thinking we’d get a free tapa if we ordered alcohol, we had beer and wine, only to discover that the offer had ended an hour before. The waitress, taking pity on us, brought us over a free bread basket and bowl of chicken and crisps.

Revived after our pit-stop, we followed our tourist map to the mezquita, the main attraction of Córdoba. Only Lina and I were willing to pay the extortionate eight Euro ticket price, so we split up whilst the others went to try out possibly the thickest omelette known to man – it looks more like a cake than an omelette. At the risk of sounding like a history nerd, I have to say that the story behind this mosque-cathedral is actually really interesting. Formerly a medieval Islamic mosque, it is now regarded as one of the most accomplished monuments of Renaissance and Moorish architecture. However, it was originally built around the year 600 as the Christian Visigothic church of St Vincent and was then divided between the Muslims and Christians during the Islamic occupation. In 1236, following King Ferdinand III of Castile’s recapturing of Córdoba, it was converted to a Catholic Christian cathedral and more Christian features were added to the Islamic ones (such as the apse facing towards Mecca) constructed during the occupation. When you visit the building now, it’s a fascinating mixture of Islamic and Catholic features, with its open courtyard, minarets, mosaics, stained glass and gold-plated icons and paintings of Christ.

After having a thorough look around the mezquita, Lina and I walked around the perimeter to get a full impression of the exterior and vast scale of the building. Getting roped in to checking out a flamenco concert hall along the way, we eventually found the others in a picturesque little bar in an open courtyard made of white brick, with vines and flowers along the walls and pillars. They’d found the place in a little side-street and had been lucky enough to come across it during a free flamenco concert, comprising a singer, guitarist and three dancers who, as far as we could tell, were just members of the audience. It was an amazing thing to chance upon and a far more authentic experience than we’d have had in the expensive concert hall.

We stayed in the bar until the music had finished, reluctant to miss anything, before making our way to a couple of tapas bars recommended on the map. We decided on the livelier-looking one and struck lucky again as we were taken into the much nicer restaurant area. There we shared tapas and sangria until it got late and we decided to call it a night.

The next day, we woke up early to get the most out of the rest of our time in the city. However, there only being one shower between everyone, it was much later by the time we actually managed to get out. It was just as well because it turns out that, besides the mesquita, and despite whatever the tourist map might say, Córdoba hasn’t actually got that much to offer. It’s a beautiful little place but you don’t really need more than a day to see it all.

We made a point of seeing almost everything on the map, walking down to the river, seeing the old gate and even visiting the narrowest street in the world (which is a disappointing 74cm wide and not as exciting as you might think). We came across a lot of things by chance, including a Semana Santa parade (the first of many). The palace was worth a visit, offering pleasant views of the city from its towers and some colourful and well-kept gardens to walk around. When we got to the bus station at 6.30 that evening, we felt happy that we’d had a nice relaxed day and seen everything we wanted to.

It was 9pm when we arrived in Seville, and the streets were packed with people returning from the pasos, since it was Palm Sunday. We took an instant liking to the feel of the place with its maze of cobbled streets and narrow alleyways. Ironically, we had a perfect route to the hostel this time, which we couldn’t use since all the surrounding roads were blocked off by parades. Eventually we admitted defeat and stopped for drinks and tapas at a bustling little bar in one of the backstreets, where we stayed until the crowds died down. By this time it was getting late, and when we arrived at the hostel we just managed to plan the following day over cups of tea before deciding to get some sleep.

The next day was our busiest so far, and we must have walked miles. The first place we visited was the town hall, which was surrounded by seating for the parades over the coming week. Nevertheless we were still able to appreciate it, especially from the other side, which opens onto a wide square. Following this, we made our way to the bull ring, walked along and across the river, saw the Golden Tower and walked through the Maria Lusia Park to the Plaza de España. The Plaza de España is a huge arched complex built as the central office for the Ibero-American Exposition, a world fair held in Seville in 1929. It’s a stunning building and the surrounding grounds only add to this affect – especially with the constant coming and going of horses and carts offered to tourists.

As it began to rain we decided to walk the length of the building under the arched promenade until the shower eased off. The weather was so changeable that, emerging into the sunlight, we didn’t think anything of stopping for ice creams. Afterwards, we saw the university and the tobacco factory and stopped off in some souvenir shops before coming across the cathedral. We were all hungry again by this stage so found a cafe slightly off the main tourist trail and stopped for lunch.

We filled the afternoon with a visit to the Real Alcazar, the Royal Palace of Seville. Another magnificent complex of patios and halls, the palace was constructed in 1364 by King Pedro I as his royal residence at the site of a Moorish palace and contains an array of architectural styles, from Mudéjar to Gothic. The original Al-Muwarak palace was built soon after the Almohades, a Moorish dynasty, seized Seville in 1161, but after the Reconquista it was rebuilt and added to in various architectural styles by subsequent monarchs. The top floor is still actively used by the Royal Family today.

When we came out of the palace we noticed that the cathedral square was filling up with people and decided to wait for the next paso. It was a longer wait than expected but well worth the trouble, as we were able to see the procession carrying an elaborate sculpture of the Virgin Mary through the Cathedral and out the other side, accompanied by an enormous brass band playing a powerful funeral march.

As we tried to head back to the hostel the streets became thronged with people, and eventually we had to give up yet again. At one stage we got stuck on a street which was blocked off at both ends by two different pasos, and once we even got caught up in the parade and got swept along amongst all the worshippers in their Ku Klux Klan outfits and black wooden crosses, a terrifying experience I never wish to repeat.

Finding somewhere for dinner was the next challenge; not only did we have to find somewhere offering gluten-free dishes, but we were limited to areas not cut off by parades. On the positive side, we did get to see a lot of the city, including the illuminated Metropol Parasol, a large canopy structure with a length of 150m and height of about 26m, which rests on a handful of large pillars. This modern construction was only opened in 2011 but works surprisingly well in contrast with the traditional architecture of the city.

Almost two hours later we chanced upon a large plaza offering a variety of restaurants and cafes, and after zigzagging its length and breadth, finally found a suitable place to eat. Exhausted, we made our way through two jugs of sangria and some delicious pizzas which may even have been worth the wait.

The next day we weren’t in any rush to leave, as we’d somehow managed to see nearly all the attractions in one day. So, at around 11.30 we hit the high street and checked out some of the shops, before asking at Tourist Information if there was anything we’d missed. Leaving the Tourist Information at a loss about what to suggest, we made our way to the Macarena district (which, disappointingly, has nothing to do with the song). It was further out than we thought, but worth going the distance as we got to see the intricate Basilica and two of the spectacular Semana Santa sculptures. A guard told us that it takes 36 men to carry the Virgin Mary sculpture, and 54 to carry the one of Jesus.

When we’d looked around the basilica we realised it how hungry we were, and after traipsing around looking for a suitable cafe, we finally found one just as the heavens opened. We stayed there for a good two hours waiting out the rain before starting on the long walk back to the centre. The weather was looking really ominous by this stage and, since we were all tired from walking, we decided to find a cafe near the cathedral to stop for a couple of drinks. It wasn’t long before it was time to go and pick up our cases before the paso which would block off our route at 7.30.

Luggage in hand, we waited around a while to see if we could catch the parade, but by this stage a storm was beginning to set in and it didn’t seem a good idea to wait outside for too long, as Annalisa was starting to feel really ill. Instead, we headed to the station where we found a snack bar for dinner, then moved to a cafe until it was time to catch the bus.

The journey back was long and arduous, and no one managed to get any sleep despite the fact we travelled all through the night. When we pulled up in Murcia at just before 8am, we went our separate ways to catch up on some sleep. It had been a fun but tiring few days.