Easter Culture

March 31, 2013

Day Light Savings Time went into effect for the continent of Europe. When I got up, my iPod had automatically changed, and I tinkered with my watch to get the time correct. Chris had emailed the girls about going to an Easter Mass, but as it turned out, mass was an afternoon activity in Spain. All of the services were after my flight left.

I was surprised at how disappointed I was by this. I hadn’t expected to be bummed by missing church—it was Easter regardless of where I was right? I could celebrate Christ’s resurrection without being in a certain building, right?—but for some reason, it made me a little homesick. I packed up my things, stored everything in the locker and decided to go for a walk.

Riding the metro into town, I wandered around the old roman buildings for a while. The streets were empty and the courtyard outside of the cathedral was deserted (a stark contrast from yesterday afternoon.) I decided to duck inside the open air sanctuary for a little Easter prayer. The inside was just as empty as the outside. The white geese were wandering around and the bubbling of the fountain seemed to echo in the hallowed halls.

I found one of the side prayer chapels and ducked inside. It was beautiful, with pictures of St. Lucia and a few benches to sit at. I didn’t actually sit down, but I took in the moment to say a brief prayer. “He is risen,” I murmured to myself, wishing my church family was there to join me in saying the sacred words.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise! A pounding melody rocked the cathedral. Walking out into the open sanctuary, I recognized it as organ music. From one of the other prayer rooms, I could hear singing and music. Looking through the window, I saw a choir—mostly made up of elderly people—practicing for Easter mass. Even though it was all in Spanish, it filled the inner need I had for an Easter celebration.

It got me thinking, Easter was all about God doing the unexpected. Mary didn’t expect to find Jesus resurrected, but God surprised her. Why is it, then, that we celebrate Easter the same old way year after year? There is never anything truly “unexpected” about it.

Walking back through town, I stopped into a bakery and bought a muffing. The inside was filled with flan and it tasted amazing. As I ate it, I walked to the metro and rode it back to the hostel. By the time I got back, everyone but Mike had checked out. We talked briefly, pondering if someone should stay around till Chris came by at 11 to let him know everyone was gone. I agreed that I would, and he headed out.

Checking email on one of the computers in the lab, I ran into Lyena again. We talked a bit more about additional European destinations we wanted to go to. I realized in talking to her that a lot of the other study abroad programs ended much sooner than mine did. I was in Europe till June while the girls, Amy, and Mike were all headed stateside around the end of April.

I waited for Chris in the lobby of the hostel, and began talking with Dreadlocks. I learned that his real name was Jeremy and that he was from Argentina. Like Chris and so many others, he’d come to Barcelona for an extended stay, and wound up moving here. I could certainly see the attraction. The beauty and energy of the city was intoxicating!

When Chris showed up, he greeted me. “I’m it!” I said.

“Do you want me to show you the Sardana Dancers?” he asked.

“Sure!” I said, not having any idea what they were but excited to see one last thing in Barcelona. “Do we have time? My flight is at 2:10.”

He checked his watch and exchanged looks with Jeremy. They talked back and forth in Spanish and agreed we could make it work.

We caught the metro into town and wove through the streets to the cathedral again. “Did I hear you say you want to be a priest?” Chris asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m thinking about going to seminary, but I go to a protestant church, so I’d want to be a pastor.” We talked more about it, as well as some of my stories from Boy Scouts. I asked him how he wound up giving tours in Barcelona, and he said that Rick Steves and his son had actually contracted him once and then hired him to offer these student trips.

When we arrived at the cathedral, the dancers were already preforming. The Sardana Dancers are a group—mostly made up of older people—who have been doing this dance in front of the cathedral for years. They hold hands in a circle while jumping on their toes to a lively jig. A band made up of trumpets, violins, and guitars plays as they hop from left to right. The height they hop is based on the tempo of the music, although some of the elderly dancers jump at a pretty consistent height.

“This dance was designed to show Catalonian unity,” Chris explained. “They did this all through the Spanish Civil War, through the fascist regime, and now on every Sunday. It’s very important to them and a true piece of culture that outsiders don’t understand.”

It was definitely more cultural than Gangam Style.

We watched for several minutes. I really enjoyed the lively music and the passion the dancers had for what they did was incredible. Chris eventually told me it was time to go catch my bus. We wrapped back through the streets and up to Plaza de Catalunya.

“Come on,” Chris said, running ahead of me. I jogged to keep up. “That’s your bus!” We darted across traffic and back to the bus stop where I’d arrived in the plaza. We wound up missing that bus. “Oh well,” he said. “Just get on the next one.”

“If you can,” Chris said, send me some photos. We can use them on the website.

“I will for sure!” I said. “I think I have like 700.”

“Okay, well maybe pick four or so,” he said. I laughed and thanked him for his help. We shook hands and he headed off into the crowd while I got on the bus back to the airport.

I got to the airport at a quarter after 12:00. Finding the line for Czech Airlines, I waited for over 40 minutes to get to the counter to check in. It was all worth it though, because in the end, I got a window seat.

Security here was even stricter than Prague. They had me take off my shoes (for the first time since I left the States) and checked my passport and boarding pass several times. I still didn’t get a stamp, but I made it through without problem.

At the gate, I sat and journalled as I watched planes take off. It had been such an amazing weekend! Now I was on my way back to the Golden City, and ready to start another adventure!