Night in Sevilla

I always like feeling like local people when I travel around. Last time I was in Sevilla in Easter time it was not a exception.
I remember we have been doing the city on foot from top to end. We were trapped in squares (where you couldn’t squeeze anything else in) by religious processions and tourists while the sun shone brightly in the blue sky of Andalusia.
One night, I was sitting on the couch watching a film with my friend, when I thought about going out to see a nighttime religious procession. I said to myself that it could be interesting so I got dressed, took the street map and left.
It didn’t take me a long time finding the typical narrow Sevillan street where the religious procession was going to pass by and I stood there waiting. Everyone, most of them Sevillan, was waiting silently in the darkness as the lamppost were off. I liked that, because I felt that I was closer to the deepest side of Sevilla.
Suddenly, the procession appeared at the end of the street. The costaleros bore over their backs a big paso over which a figure of the Virgin rose among a hundred candles shining in the darkness. Behind, a band played an epic piece with trompets and drums setting the beat at 3:00 a.m. But Spain, you know, is different…
I could feel the great expectation that people was feeling while the paso approached and I got infected.
When the paso was in front of me I could see how people stretched their arms to touch it. I didn’t know what it meant, but I wanted to touch it too, to feel myself closer to the Sevillan people. I didn’t hesitated and I touched the wooden structure over which rested the Virgin and under which, the costaleros walked.
Suddenly, I could feel a hot breathing which came from the deepest place of the procession. It was as if the wood itself breathed. As if it would emanate from the entire whole structure. I could feel the costaleros’s sacrifice with a strange and powerful strength. An iron will full of devotion shrouded everything and everyone. The whole structure was alive.
I moved my hand a way, feeling a little scared. Then, the procession was followed by the band and foreign backpackers with broken shoes who carried banners showing their different points of view about religion.
I realized that maybe they had different opinions but, all of them were moved by the same mysterious strength, which I had just felt.
Everyone can feel this feeling once in their lives, if you have the chance to make your dreams come true, and live them...