I didn't really understood what they meant by a Catholic country. I mean Christmas was mildly excited with the posadas (the re-creation of Mary and Joseph's search for shelter, if you will), piñatas, atole and visporas (scarily-close proximity fireworks). But Holy Week is another story. Besides masses every day and the daily traffic jam due to saintly processions or the occasional brass band practicing. People are relaxed, sc
hool is out and people are traveling, family comes to town, family goes out of town. It is a beautiful time. I didn't give much thought to the Holy week celebrations until the Good Friday shebang was thrown upon me. I woke up Friday morning and went to my adoptive mothers house, everyone was up and getting ready for the big procession. Now I had hear that in the downtown of the town and the centro of the colonia where I live host a Good Friday procession. Great. I thought a bunch of over-righteous zealots with their candles lit condemning the sinners. I was wrong to say the least. I went ahead of the fam to catch a glimpse of the procession, camera ready. I took the 15 minute hike straight up into the foothills intent on intercepting the procession before they left the church. Halfway to the church and I hear a most curious sound: coconuts falling out of a flatbed in the rain. I round the corner and am overcome by a cavalry of Roman soldiers and hundreds of followers (the horses the coconuts and the bare feet on cobblestone the rain). I quickly jump out of the way as to not get run over by the caped riders. I snap a few pictures as I move to the gutter. After the cavalry passes, a most realis
tic Jesus passes, wielding a giant cross, tunic, barefoot and wearing a crown of thorns. Two "thieves" tied to logs follow with two dozen soldiers whipping them every step of the way. The soldiers become teenagers wielding spears, flanking an army of white robed, barefoot, masked figures wielding equally giant aquamarine crosses. Followers find themselves intermingling the white clad figures, singing, praying and documenting the occasion (see video). The procession lasts about two hours, and ends up at the neighborhood church. At the church we encounter another slew of weeping women, Pontius Pilate, more guards and three crucifixes. When Christ and the thieves reach the "stage" they are tied to the crucifixes and promptly hoisted vertically into the air. The dialogue is then recreated, and Christ speaks from the cross. Pretty darn powerful. At this point I was drenched with sweat and decided to get a tamarind flavored raspado (bagged shaved- ice) and took a perch to watch the people pour out of the courtyard. Much different from the services back home. Now I think I know what they mean by a Catholic country.
hool is out and people are traveling, family comes to town, family goes out of town. It is a beautiful time. I didn't give much thought to the Holy week celebrations until the Good Friday shebang was thrown upon me. I woke up Friday morning and went to my adoptive mothers house, everyone was up and getting ready for the big procession. Now I had hear that in the downtown of the town and the centro of the colonia where I live host a Good Friday procession. Great. I thought a bunch of over-righteous zealots with their candles lit condemning the sinners. I was wrong to say the least. I went ahead of the fam to catch a glimpse of the procession, camera ready. I took the 15 minute hike straight up into the foothills intent on intercepting the procession before they left the church. Halfway to the church and I hear a most curious sound: coconuts falling out of a flatbed in the rain. I round the corner and am overcome by a cavalry of Roman soldiers and hundreds of followers (the horses the coconuts and the bare feet on cobblestone the rain). I quickly jump out of the way as to not get run over by the caped riders. I snap a few pictures as I move to the gutter. After the cavalry passes, a most realis
tic Jesus passes, wielding a giant cross, tunic, barefoot and wearing a crown of thorns. Two "thieves" tied to logs follow with two dozen soldiers whipping them every step of the way. The soldiers become teenagers wielding spears, flanking an army of white robed, barefoot, masked figures wielding equally giant aquamarine crosses. Followers find themselves intermingling the white clad figures, singing, praying and documenting the occasion (see video). The procession lasts about two hours, and ends up at the neighborhood church. At the church we encounter another slew of weeping women, Pontius Pilate, more guards and three crucifixes. When Christ and the thieves reach the "stage" they are tied to the crucifixes and promptly hoisted vertically into the air. The dialogue is then recreated, and Christ speaks from the cross. Pretty darn powerful. At this point I was drenched with sweat and decided to get a tamarind flavored raspado (bagged shaved- ice) and took a perch to watch the people pour out of the courtyard. Much different from the services back home. Now I think I know what they mean by a Catholic country.
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