I had grandiose plans for Holy Week blogging. However, with a breastfeeding one-month old and a squirrely two-year old as assistants, my expectations were dashed.
Thursday evening was our local procession. I had been waiting all week for the big show. Not because it is the highlight of Algeciras’ processions, but because I only had to drag my team 100 meters to see it.
A usual late Spanish start plus a one hour rain delay didn’t help my journalist intentions. By the time Jesus and Mary appeared my team was rubbing their eyes and looking for the boob.
But here is what we saw.
A big crowd outside the church.
Crowd control to keep the traffic off the route and the neighbours under wraps.
Note to self: Baby plus toddler plus camera plus visiting with neighbours equals bad photos.
But we did catch a few key ingredients of any good procession.
Women dressed in the Mantilla.
Check out the details: gloves, brotherhood pendant, rosary and slicked hair.
And Costaleros (the dudes with the towels who pack the floats.) I wonder if this little guy was able to carry his weight, so to speak.
Just as Yago began to melt down, the first
Klan members Penitentes arrived.
Then to great cheers from the crowd, Jesus left the building.
I did manage to get a couple of photos of the big guy,
Although by this point I was breastfeeding one child, on foot, in a crowd, while cajoling the second, juggling the camera and expressing sincere marital discord.
Then finally, with child number one tugging me towards home and child number two enjoying a large and noisy bowel movement, the virgin made her grand appearance.
Just as the whole shebang was finally underway on its 6 hour route, I cut my loses and headed home. Dirty diapers do not wait for the right angle and light conditions.
(Either do I since I know zilch about photography. But I dream about these things during late night baby bouncing sessions.)
Luckily on our way we caught the motor escort revving up.
It was Yago’s favorite moment and my only good photo.