I walk. Hours upon hours of walking. I've gotten lost so many times that I just don't care anymore. The streets on the map all blend together in an impossible maze leaving me frustrated and lost. The rain is on and off, my shoes are soaked along with my socks that have now turned into saturated sponges. My feet ache from the cobblestone and miles of trecking through the city to try to see at least one procession. It's around 10:30pm and I find myself at a church in an area void of life in what seems to be no longer Seville. I sit in the corner, put down my umbrella and soak in the rain reflecting on my day: 2 missed trains, 1 full train, rain, no processions, lost, hungry, alone, soaked, limping from pain. The rain falls harder and harder and as a cruel fate blasts down on the earth flooding it. I take cover under the church but I still get wet from it bouncing off of the street. I sit there and stare into the darkness.
The rain calms down and I leave my spot on the church and I decide to continue on my journey to wherever I was going. My map is useless and I have no idea where I am in the city. Right. Right must be the right way. I walk down a lit narrow street alone with only the sound of my wet shoes scuffing against the cobblestone. A hooded man appears in the distance, a nazareno. Soon I see more and more until I find a whole plaza full of them. Half have their hoods on, the other carry them in their arms. Families kiss them as they walk under a big banner into the back of a church. I continue. The sky clears up and the rain stops. I see a huge crowd. Could it be? A procession? I look up into the night sky and see that some clouds have dissapeared. The church itself had a picture of the Virgen on it...of Esperanza...Could this be?! I continue and pass a bar; la Macarena. I don't know how it happened but I ended up at THE most iconic and famous procession of all of Holy Week of Seville: La Madrugada with la Macarena. I find a spot amongst the crowd right in front of the church. It's beautiful! There is a huge black iron gate that guards the illumated chruch. People stand around waiting in anticipation, praying the rain doesn't return.
The kids in front of me all have one ear phone in, carefully listening to information regarding the processions. They joke and laugh and talk about Holy Week and describe what everything means and fight over what the number of feathers on a Roman soldier's hat signifies. I look at my watch, 23:00. there is still an hour left yet the street is packed behind me. Hundreds and hundreds of people are behind me. The French couple next to me talk about the Roman soldier changing in the window, the lady behind me is blowing at the clouds to make them dissapear. She popped them by accident and a canopy of umbrellas sprung up covering the crowd. Seconds later it stops: "Que no llueve! No está lloviendo" (a call from the kid next to me to put away the umbrellas). And with that the umbrellas dissapear. I hear drums in the distance along with trumpets and cornets. Behind me through the sea of people marches Roman soldiers with huge white feathers in their helmets. They march up to the gate, pass through, and cheers spring out from the crowd and break the tense air. "Seguro que sale" says a man next to me, sure that the Macarena with go on route. We wait some more, and more and more.
Canopy of umbrellas. The rain pounds on the plasticky material above our heads. I look back at a lady with tears in her eyes. Could I have hit her with my umbrella? No. I don't think so. "No está lloviendo" shouts the kid next to me again as the rain still pounds from above. The crowd burst out laughing. Sure enough it stops again and the umbrellas get put away. 11:50pm comes around and the guy next me says the another procession El Silencio "no sale" or will not march. Everyone in our are looks at him intently as he listens to his ear bud. "El Silencio y el Gran Poder" The crowd gets antsy. 10 mintues pass as the Roman soldiers still stand at the door. 5 minutes....
Claps. "La Macarena no sale" says the man listening to his ear bud to my left informing everyone that there will be no procession. Everone claps in dispair. I hear a sob and think someone is joking but then see the girl huddled against the guard rail with another girl rubbing her back to comfort her. I look back at the girl with the tear in her eye who now has tears streaming down her face. A man to my right tried to hide his red eyes and wipe away his tears as he sobbed quietly next to me. Cries peak out through the crowd, surrounding me "ABRE LA PUERTA!" (Open the door shouts a lady far away in a tearful shout) Several women shout this until the door opens revealing the beatuiful lit up image of la Macarena. "GUAPA! GUAPA!" the crowd shouts in unisen. "GUAPA!!!!" hundreds of people shouting how beautiful she is through their sobs. The prosession breaks up and the officials walk back through the gate: men and boys crying. The crowd disperses behind me. A man has fainting and another one catches him. I stare at his frozen face and blank eyes as they stare into the darkness. I stare at the watering eyes of everyone around me. I listen to the cries and yells of mourning women and my hair stands on end as everyone mourns the Madrugada que no sale.
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