A bit of Spanish Culture...and an update

First off, let me apologize for not maintaining this blog like I should have. As things have been winding down, I've been incredibly busy. But I wanted to get at least one more post up before I head home in June!


Semana Santa
Semana Santa, otherwise known as Holy Week, is incredibly important to Spaniards--especially in the South. Throughout the entire week, there are processions led by various churches throughout the cities. I was lucky enough to see one procession here in Madrid (my time in London sort of messed up traveling further south for their celebrations) and it was incredible.
The various organizations within the church work the entire year preparing for the processions of Holy Week, and it turned out to be one of the most moving experiences I've had in Europe in the past four months. People line up for hours, waiting for a chance to see it. The procession starts with men in hooded robes--yes, very similar to the KKK version. And although there was absolutely nothing threatening about these people, it
scared me somewhat. Being that close to such a terrifying symbol of our past...it was pretty unnerving.

After these men walk past (they linger for a long time, though), the women walk behind them, dressed in black with veils. It seemed to me that these women were supposed to symbolize people grieving for the death of Jesus, but that's just my own interpretation of it.

And finally, around the corner came the final part of the procession. A giant platform of silver, holding a life-size statue of Jesus, and being carried by about 40 men. The platform is so heavy that they can only walk about 50 feet before they have to set it down and rest. But the don't just carry it through the street. No, they sway back and forth with the music, and periodically take synchronized steps forward as the music changes. Their motion moves the statue of Jesus (which is very lifelike), and He sways, slowly making His way forward. I was reminded of Jesus carrying the cross through the streets before his crucifixion. It was such a moving experience, and put into perspective the sacrifice that He made for us. (Sorry if you're not a fan of me including my religious sentiments, but that's how I feel, so I'm going to share it.) Even though there were thousands of people around, it was a deeply personal experience for me, and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

Bullfights
The quintessential Spanish experience. Luckily, I had just made a friend from Colombia who offered to go with us and explain all that was going on. The Wikipedia article is probably equally insightful. Bullfighting is an artform, not a brutal show of force. It has very strict rules, and the audience is well-aware and all-too-ready to inform the matador that he's not doing that hot (in the form of whistling).

Before the "match", a man comes into the ring with a sign, giving statistics on the upcoming bull--weight, age, the farm that raised it.

After he exits, men on horseback enter the ring. A minute later, in comes the bull. These men try to get the bull to attack the horses (who have incredible amounts of padding to protect them from the horns), then jab a short spear into the bull's back in an attempt to weaken the neck muscles of the bull. This way, the bull keeps its head down near the ground. If the picadores spend too much time stabbing the bull, the crowd boos--again, by whistling.
After this phase, the trumpets ring out, signaling the beginning of the next phase. Three men with colorful, barbed sticks (bandilleras) enter the ring. They use their bodies to attract the bull, then at the last minute plant the barbs in the bull's back. This, too, is in an attempt to weaken the bull's neck muscles. After all three men have planted their bandilleras, the third and final stage begins.

The matador enters the ring with a red cape and a sword. After some minutes of working with the bull--essentially trying to get the bull into the center of the ring and trying to add some artistic flair-- the matador swaps the sword he's been carrying for the real deal. This is the sign that the final blow will soon be dealt.

The goal is to plant the sword deeply into the bull's neck, in a very specific spot, killing the bull instantly. I went fairly early in the season so the matadors (and matadora) that I saw weren't fantastic. But generally, the bull dies in less than thirty seconds. It's a show of skill and grace, hardly meant to be an exhibition of murder. I was worried the experience would be really bloody, gory, and all around difficult to watch, but it was actually an amazing experience.

My Update
The last month has been so crazy. I've been traveling a lot (so you have those posts to look forward to in June!) to various countries, and I've been studying my butt off. I'm right in the middle of finals, but I took a quick break to get this up and out there. Sorry I haven't been posting as frequently as I should have. That just means you have some more summer reading material! Also, if you feel like you've been missing those nifty (yes, nifty) experiences that I've had over the past five months, never fear! I'll be posting a final post this summer, reflecting on all things study abroad. Everybody's happy now. :)