It seemed that whichever way I turned, the narrow streets were blocked by a double-column of pointy-hooded men, each bearing an enormous burning candle.
Pressed up against the darkened buildings were thousands of people watching in silence as the unbroken stream of marchers slowly wound its way through the cobbled lanes.
I had only been in Córdoba a few hours and was, perhaps foolishly, attempting to negotiate my way through the city’s old quarter, a tangle of narrow lanes that is confusing enough for visitors at the best of times. But this was Semana Santa, Holy Week, the Easter festival celebrated throughout Spain, but especially so in Andalucía.
All the region’s cities, towns and villages vie to outdo each other in terms of the splendour and elaborate nature of their processions to commemorate the death of Christ. Even for the most secular of visitors, this combination of religious devotion, colour, art and music in the solemn parades that process through the streets can be an extraordinary experience.
Spring is also a good time of year to enjoy the region’s many other attractions, from Moorish masterpieces, such as the Alhambra, to the flower-filled Andalucían countryside and its famous White Towns, before temperatures start to climb to their searing summer highs.
The most spectacular of the Easter events are in the triumvirate of Córdoba, Seville and Granada, but they are worth seeing just about anywhere in Andalucía, and can be at their most atmospheric in the tiny streets of the smallest of places. But be warned: finding hotel accommodation in these cities during Holy Week can be difficult, so it’s advisable to book in advance.
Typically, processions that draw their numbers from religious Cofradia’s, or brotherhoods, file out of churches from early afternoon and snake solemnly through city streets before returning many hours later.
At their head are the long-gowned Los Nazarenos, who wear high, pointed masks covering their faces and often carry candles or banners. They are followed by Los Penitentes, the fraternity members who perform the authentic act of penitence, carrying a heavy cross and usually walking barefoot during the procession. Then come the floats, or pasos, each adorned with life-sized statues of religious figures, the most common being Christ on the cross and the Virgin Mary in mourning.
Weighing up to several tonnes, shuffling the pasos through the streets, is a burden that is, quite literally, shouldered by Costaleros, squads of brotherhood members who remain unseen beneath the heavily gilded platforms.
I had chosen to be in Córdoba on the eve of Good Friday, widely regarded as the climax of the festival, which lasts from Domingo de Ramos (Palm Sunday) through to Domingo de Resurrección (Easter Sunday). Now I wanted to get to the Mezquita, the city’s great mosque, from where I had been told an ornately decorated paso bearing an image of the Virgin would be starting off at midnight.
Trapped in a mass of eerily garbed bodies, I was giving up hope of ever getting there when a couple of locals ahead of me did what I had reckoned would be an unthinkable act of sacrilege, they nipped through a gap between candle-bearers and set off down the street in the middle of the two columns.
Seizing my chance and emboldened by their lead, I darted after them and followed them around various corners until they again squeezed between the marchers and broke off down a quiet side street. A few minutes later I passed through the archway under the Mesquita’s beacon-like belfry into the fountain-filled Patio de los Naranjos, just as a set of mighty wooden doors was being swung open.
From the gloom a paso, bedecked with candles, moved slowly out through the distinctive keyhole-shaped Moorish archway. Its arrival silenced the chatter of the awaiting crowd as the float swayed gently forwards to the sound of a hymn being sung by a female choir.
At the sight of the Virgin, her face, crown and intricately embroidered cloak glowing in the candlelight, hands moved quickly to make the sign of the cross. Lit by moonlight, the air thick with incense and with the incomparable mosque as a backdrop, it was a captivating scene. Then, painstakingly slowly, the paso made its way out into the packed courtyard and on towards the city streets. The hushed tones and solemnity of the occasion were in stark contrast to the events of a few days earlier, when I had stopped overnight in the Murcian town of Lorca, en route to Granada.
While the Semana Santa processions in Andalucía are generally serious affairs, the parade through this former frontier town had almost the air of carnival about it. Vendors moved along in front of the stands, selling snacks, and large groups waved and shouted to friends as they passed, many of them dressed as Roman soldiers for their role as bit players in a theatrical display depicting the triumph of Christianity.
The following day I was being dazzled by achievements of a different persuasion in the form of Granada’s Alhambra, the spectacular Moorish palace complex built on a hill above the city. By mid-afternoon, when I returned to the streets below, the Holy Week parades were already making their way past the cathedral to the sound of drums and music, and they continued long into the night.
But if Andalucía’s Semana Santa processions are a solemn business, fireworks are not permitted and drinking and celebrating is still frowned upon by the religious brotherhoods it doesn’t seem to stop others having fun. Many of the bars in Granada, and later in Seville and Córdoba, were doing a roaring trade, some filled with large and noisy family groups who had come into the city centre to watch the processions. In some places, particularly the Andalucían capital, the revelry can carry on until three or four in the morning.
It was in Seville that I experienced one of the highlights of the Semana Santa events I saw during my trip. Having tired of standing on tiptoes in the central Plaza de San Francisco, trying to catch a glimpse of the colourful processions over the top of reserved grandstands access to which was barred despite many being virtually empty, I had wandered off into the neighbouring barrio, Santa Cruz.
Happy to just enjoy losing myself in the narrow streets of brilliantly whitewashed houses, I eventually ended up at Plaza San Pedro, on the official processional route. Here, it was easy to walk back and forth alongside the Nazarenos, cross-bearing Penitentes, and elegantly dressed bands as they paraded past, interspersed with the gleaming gold pasos and their religious effigies. It was also here that I first heard the intoxicating sound of a solo trumpet soar to a high note and hold it for what seemed like an impossible time, then fall away as the drums resumed their mesmerising beat.
Later, as the evening wore on, the pasos halted as flamenco singers performed melancholic songs known as saetas from balconies in honour of the statues. Then, with my appetite for processions sated for the day, it was time to seek out a more earthly passion for which Seville is also famed: tapas.
FACT FILE ANDALUCIA
How to get there > Visit www.easyjet.com for details. Visit www.ryanair.com for details.
Where to stay > Hotel Casa de los Azulejos, Fernando Cólon 5, Córdoba. Tel: 00 34 957 470000 or www.casadelosazulejos.com
Information in English on the routes and times for Andalucía’s Semana Santa events (1-8 April 2007) are available at: www.guiasemanasanta.com/index_in.php
April 4, 2008 
