Today is Sacred Thursday. I think it's the day Jesus is on the cross (or was that last Thursday and maybe he's about to rise). Anyways, it's a holiday. Around 2:00 I went out to get some provisions from the market and found it was closed. This entire week is a holiday for schools and other kinds of institutions, though only today and tomorrow are real holidays for all businesses of the kind that normally work 9-5 (well, 9-2:30 and 5:30 - 9, here in Spain). Instead, I found the streets full of people dressed up and crowding the bars. Especially bar Maypa, a seemingly nondescript and unimportant place which tends to be frequented mostly on special occassions. A bar next door owned by the same people, called the Taberna Jerezana is closed all year, except for one week: this week, Semana Santa. Then it is open till all hours, as the guys carrying pasos (floats) duck out from under the Virgen Maria as they are substituted out, and as the procession passes this historic and important corner down the block from our house, they go to the stark, traditional but beautiful Taberna for a beer, their airplane pillows around their necks (for prevention of serious damage to the neck and back).

I tried to contact a few friends who were busy so after Geoffrey finished laying some bricks I dragged him out to join the festive atmosphere in Bar Maypa. This is the perfect time of year. I normally prefer hot weather but the heat is so intense here for so long, and worse than that, the sky is unrelentingly blue and cloudless for months on end, that I am enjoying extremely, this month of 10 minute changes between clouds/rain and sun, and cool, but warm enough to wear a t-shirt and thin jacket today. I pulled out some heels and wore them with bare ankles, no problem. We bar hopped and then had some ice cream, meandering down the street and sat in a beautiful square. I felt very traditional, relaxing on a day off, wearing nice clothes and going out for stand up lunch at the bar. The ancient church in the Plaza Asuncion was starting mass and we stepped in for a few minutes.

On the way back we stopped in as well at the Iglesia San Miguel, which is more cathedral like. It was full today, everyone dressed in black and high heels after their lunch out, full of mayonnaise and fat (mayonnaise is the main feature at bar Maypa, on top of their famous tortilla and on top of almost all their other tapas - halved boiled egg and canned various types of fish... we had the fat at the Tabanco - chicharrones, and Geoffrey had kidneys).

Tonight the processions go all night long. Our street's balconies are lined with burgundy coloured drapes, waiting for the inhabitants to look out over the processions. I plan to see the end of one procession at 8:30 am tomorrow morning in a famous church over in Santiago, where they will sing Saetas, an a capella type of flamenco, sung to the Virgen Maria or Jesus statues as they enter the church after the night of procession.

We heard several of these already, one on Monday night at 2 am, two more especially stunning ones on Tuesday night at the more reasonable hour of 11:30.

The Semana Santa here in Jerez seems slightly more serious than in Sevilla. The Monday night procession (there are 5 but I watched only a portion of two) was a silent one, the only music a choir of young girls chanting a Latin prayer. The followers of the procession also recited prayers. As the float entered the church in Plaza Angustias, three Saetas were sung.

I see these Saeta singers in the market and down the street at the Peña, hanging out in the day. It is amazing to me that such art and tradition are there on the corner of the street...

Tuesday night was more intense, with the procession stopping in the middle of a fairly busy road, blocking traffic (police organised). A large crowd had gathered and at certain points, many people joined in the reciting of prayers. Then the very plain Virgen, holding a crown of thorns, crossed the street and the guys carrying her turned her around, ready to enter the church. The crowd had gathered suddenly because everyone knew Saetas are sung at this point. The second one was particularly haunting, sung by a woman. The statue's crown of stars made a shadow on the white church lit up by the full moon. It was stunning. Of course, the people walking in the procession are many times wearing the conical head covering with only the eyes showing, and carrying huge candles and so on.

Well, off to see what time and where to go tonight.

The Tres Reyes is run by Emilio, a man of about 60 or 70, who serves beer and fino and makes excellent fried fish and caracoles. Today we saw a few acquaintances there, young Ruben, talking with an old man who seemed less drunk today than he was last weekend in the little bar in the alley. Ruben was there with a guitarist and a cajon player, before they went off to another bar to perform. There was an old man at the bar having the special racion of the day - habas (broad beans). We asked for some and then later some fish - pijotas from the north. The bar is small and has a grungy feeling. You can usually find guys singing there on a Saturday afternoon, hitting the bar and clapping loudly. There are some pictures of a very formal horse parade tacked onto the wall below an archway, and two little plants in plastic pots (one of them a cut off container painted black) hung above the pictures. Some fake flowers are stuck behind framed pictures above the arched entryway, and above the bar hang sketches of the Three Kings: Juan Carlos of Spain, Camaron, of flamenco, and a Semana Santa statue of Jesus, of San Telmo (a neighbourhood which houses this Jesus statue).

A 50-ish man and wife tell Emilio to make them beans but to put an egg in it. He argues back but eventually makes it. The guy asks about his umbrella. Emilio tells him that Uncle Juan took it with him when they were all last there. They ask him for the recipe and he explains, yes, of course there is a little pepper, there is cumin but only a mijita... so it sings bulerias. The beans were frozen, which the woman chastises him for, and says it is the edad (the era). He says, come on! The fields are not right here! She says, the market is (which it truly is, right across the street). Anyways, testimony to Emilio's cooking skill that frozen beans taste that good.

The short and very stocky old man eating his beans on the other side of us has complained, looking very annoyed, at one of the young men with his guitar on his back, that kept knocking him as he moved around. Everyone laughs, presumably due to the way the old man demonstrated his complaint. He goes to stand on the other side of the couple and when the young men leave they go over and purposely bump him, as a joke, to which the old man responds loudly, but tongue in cheek, and everyone laughs. When we leave we thank Emilio, who thanks us instead and does a slight bow. It is a dramatic gesture but at the same time he means it. He chats in a totally down to earth way with his customers about everyday life stuff and answers their questions that are not really appropriate but that is a moot point here because this is not a contrived place like most restaurants are, that I've ever known in my life. Emilio is very gracious and genuine, though there is a sort of joking around that has a certain degree of bullshitting to it, and is like playing a game.

When we leave, the couple, who we haven't really spoken to, also say Buenos Dias and Adios. The atmosphere is such that pretty much anyone can talk to anyone, it would just happen naturally and easily.

There are two more details I almost forget to mention because I don't even notice them any more: we are all standing, and the doors are open even though it is March and raining out.

This place summarizes why I live in Spain.