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Published: April 24th 2006
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Mis amigas
Cecilia, Tracie, and Mariela in Córdoba. Semana Santa is the big holy week of vacations here. No Easter bunnies, no eggs, no Peeps. Just good old fashioned religious processions, prayers, and trips to EuroDisney. So while Blanca and Pedrito went to visit Mickey Mouse (¿Miguel Ratón?), I was free to have an adventure of my own .
As a very wise friend recently pointed out to me, only a certain kind of person is crazy enough to enroll in Spanish classes in Madrid for four hours a day. So when some chicas from my school invited me to join them on a Semana Santa road trip, I was thrilled at the chance to spend time with some
locas of my own kind. We really didn´t know each other, but
¡vamonos! We rented a car with a big orange ¨Pepe cars¨ sticker on the side, and Mariela, Cecilia, Tracie and I set off to the south.
Mariela and Cecilia are from Brasil and speak Portuguese and Spanish (with a beautiful Portuguese accent). Tracie is from North Carolina, and has the most adorable southern twang that amazingly doesn´t bleed into her Spanish. So as we rolled out of town, the car was bubbling with a strange
mezcla Semana Santa in Córdoba
The hooded processioners are not klansmen, I promise. of Spanish, Portuñol, and Spanglish. Getting out of Madrid was more than a little tricky.
¨¡Luz rojo!¨ ¨¿Por donde vamos?¨¨¡Abre u!¨ Once we got going, the drive was lovely; the old
molinas of Quijote´s La Mancha were sprinkled across the rolling hills and valleys. We cruised over hills between olive tree orchards and grape fields. The radio played Spanish salsa and songs from America´s 80´s and 90´s. We were surprised at our shared musical heritage. We enjoyed the full 15 minutes of ¨Thriller¨ and a touching chorus of ¨We are the world.¨ When Counting Crowes came on the radio, all four of us burst into song together ...¨show me somma that SPANISH DANCIN´.¨ We four girls were friends.
At last we arrived in Córdoba. As we walked into town, we could see a huge crowd of people in the street. The Easter procession was in full bloom. The aroma of incense marked where the masked congregation had been. Young men carried a heavy and elaborate tribute to Jesus and Mary on their backs. Every 200 yards or so, the procession would halt so the boys who carried the float could rest and others could take their places. Their
The processional float
Making its way through Córdoba, one heavy step at a time. necks were red from carrying the weight of their sins. Meant to be a solemn affair, we spotted a few
chicos in the procession band drinking beers, smoking and talking on their cell phones during the breaks. The procession continued through dusk in the warm night air, and we left the faithful in the streets while we moved on.
We enjoyed
tinto de verano in the street, and later sangria at a small
mesa in the plaza. It was a lovely night. One of Mariela´s friends was kind enough to provide us with free logding for the night. We all slept well.
The next morning we returned to where the procession had been. Now the streets were quiet and vacant. We walked through narrow alleyways, following signs for Córdoba´s Mesquita. We passed dozens of little iron gates, beyond which were small but luscious patios. Clean white walls, terra cotta tiles, and flowers of every possible shade of red. Diffuse light filtering in from above. I wanted to sneak into one, sit down in one of the white chairs and sip sangria all day in the breath of the roses.
La vida tranquila. We found the Mesquita, Córdoba´s
famous mosque built 1,000 years ago. We entered its walled courtyard into a huge tropical garden and approached the entrance to the mosque. As we stepped into the actual Mesquita, I first noticed the beautiful carved wooden window coverings patterned in the Muslim 8-pointed star design. These wooden panels covered frosted windows, allowing a beautiful pattern of light to enter the mosque.
As we moved farther in, I was overwhelmed at the size of the Mesquita. Column-supported archways recede seemingly to infinity. It would make the perfect classroom for a lesson on perspective drawing and vanishing points. I could imagine it would also be a perfect place for people to spread their rugs and kneel to the east together in prayer.
Before long though, I noticed an oddity in the Mesquita... a sculpture depicting Jesus on the cross. After observing a few more Christian relics, I gleaned that the Mesquita, alas, is no longer a mosque, but a church. The locals actually refer to it as the ¨Cathédral de Córdoba,¨ and they continue to hold mass there. Portable pews are stacked near a wall. Apparently during the time of the Inquisition, the Muslims were ¨asked¨ to leave, but
¡Los pobres!
Only their feet could be seen peeking out from underneath the heavy processional float. their grand place of worship was invited to stay. Someone must have said, ¨You know, with a little bit of work, this mosque would make a great cathedral.¨ Few of the visitors seemed to notice the irony, but my amigas and I did.
We left the Mesquita and retraced our footsteps through the narrow streets, past the roses and the white walls and the aromas of Spanish cooking and incense. It was time to move on...
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STELLA
non-member comment
NO BUNNIES AND COLORED EGGS?
WHAT A GREAT ROAD TRIP FOR NEW AMIGAS. I ESPECIALLY LIKED THE MESQUITA WINDOW WITH LIGHT COMING THROUGH. THE PATIOS FULL OF FLOWERS SOUND LOVELY TOO. EAGERLY AWAITING YOUR NEXT JOURNAL ENTRY!