A Special Blue Whiteness She Likes
Lorca, Espana
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A Special Blue Whiteness She Likes
Friday 10th of April 2009
Lorca, Espana: 20:00
Total utter lunacy. Clearly Lorca's out to party, and there's horses rearing up to run around on their hind legs everywhere. The whole main street is closed off and sawdusted up, and the good folks on the high rise apartments above are out in force on their balconies. What all this pseudo egyptian and roman centurion bollocks has got to do with Jesus Christ copping it two thousand years ago is anybody's guess, but it's all crazy good fun. I'm certainly not going to let any atheism get in the way of a good time.
Oh hello, finally we've got a weeping Virgin Mary holding a fake cheesy Turin shround, and carried aloft by about a hundred women in green tassocks. Wonderful! Oh, eh up, here comes main man deathly Jesus himself! The choice was head west to the beaches between Cadiz and Tarifa, and Semana Santa in solemn Sevilla, or head east to Cabo de Gata, and exubriant Lorca. Can't help feeling that nobody's all that reverential here, and maybe I made the right choice not going to Sevilla, can't imagine it being better than this.
Now we're all walking along to the tune of a brass band, going back along the main street, and the guys have persuaded me to play along on acoustic. Utter mayhem.
The whole thing about Lorca is the genial battle between the 'whites' and the 'blues' as to who puts on the best show. Somehow, I've wangled my way into the 'blue' cathedral, basically by walking through an open door, and it's all even more mad in here. Often, younger members of the crowd are raised aloft by their friends, to scream out their passion for how long Jesus is gonna live for, with the whole crowd responding huge calls of 'viva'.
There's a brief moment of solemnity when dead Jesus is carried aloft into the cathedral, but it's soon back to shouting and clapping again. And to think I was wondering if I'd be too late for the party turning up at eleven. The lunacy is still going strong at three AM. It's all done with such infectious manic exuberance, that you can't help but be caught up, and find yourself cheering and clapping along with all the 'vivas'. The cathedral's emptying out, so maybe it's all calming down now, but you never know with spaniards.
The spanish like a good party. You get the feeling that if Jesus is born, they'll throw a party. If Jesus dies they'll have a week of parties. And if Blessed Mary herself lets out a godly fart, they'll have a good month of parties in joyous celebration of its glorious virginal fragrance.
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