Caballeros Y Senoritas
5 comments May 13th, 2005
And we were worried about getting in the way of the festival of El Rocio?
How stupid are we?
There is no getting away from the annual pilgrimage. From all over Andalucia, people come on horseback, in carriages, and on foot, to the small town where the "Madonna of the Dew" has been celebrated since 1280. The festival reaches it´s culmination in the weekend before Pentecost – this year, the 16th of May – when, in the early hours, the statue is carried out of the church.
We arrived in the small town of Rociana del Condada early in the 
morning, where the pilgrims were gathered together in an amazing display of colour and festivity, in the town square, for a service of blessing by the local priest before they set out.
The women were clad in traditional flamenco dresses. Some rode their own horses, often sidesaddle; others were perched, with immense poise and flair, on the backs of horses ridden by the dashing male Caballeros. The men themselves were striking, in their tight fitting, cropped jackets and broad flat hats, with leather chaps flapping over their breeches. All rode superb 
horses with the kind of surety which can only come from years of expert handling – the animals themselves were the 
cream of Andalucian stock.
It was a fiesta before the pilgrims had even left the square, proudly riding beneath their respective clan banners. As the parade wound down the street and through the village, it was led by a solemn, stirring drum beat played by old men on horses. But behind them, about halfway down the long line of riders and carriages, a bright, noisy brass marching band lifted the 
atmosphere, with people in their gaily decorated carriages waving merrily to passers by.
Gary took off to take pictures, and I just sat and watched, feeling unbelievably happy to stumble unwittingly across such a wonderful celebration, spellbound by the beautiful women sitting proudly behind those handsome, suave men. One in particular really took my eye (woman, that is, believe it or not) – although I never managed to get a 
really good picture of her. Nonetheless, her bright red and black dress and erect posture seemed to my, admittedly rather romantic, eye to epitomise the heritage she wore with such èlan.
One man rode a young, spirited horse, which periodically became unsettled by the continous fireworks and lively atmosphere. He sat it with steady control, barely moving in the saddle.
It was a magnificent display of horsemanship. 
Children as young as three and four were perched confidently up on horses fifteen hands high, handling them with perfect assurance. It was a great opportunity for the local adolescents to look seriously cool, and plenty grabbed the opportunity to ride in with their girlfriends sitting in splendour behind them, clasping them around the waist with their legs 
crossed daintily over the side.
When the parade finally passed out of town, we set off up the road in the opposite direction, feeling a little sad that we were to miss the main event. But, ever since, the road toward El Rocio has been a police monitored continous stream of dancing flamenco girls, smartly dressed Caballeros, and carriages bedecked with bells and flowers. Over a million people are converging on the tiny hamlet this weekend, and we feel as though we have met most of them! They all wave and cry out "Hola!" and "Buen Camino!" to us as we pass, and we in turn call back and laugh with them.
The wonderful carnival atmosphere had taken most the sting out of having to walk 150 kilometres north, back to Seville, in order to cross the river. Arriving in Seville removed it totally. It is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, and there could be no more stunning time of year than now to watch the blossoms come out in the tropical gardens, and smell the oranges on the trees lining the streets.
We have been blessed with great rough camps as well;
this one, in a stand of cork trees, was absolutely heaving with noisy wild life which was enormously comforting. We spent the night laughing at two lizards who thought it was the height of amusement to dash across the end of our tarp and scuttle 
into the bushes, then turn around and come straight back.
The country itself has been peaceful and lovely, with endless orchards of 
olive and orange trees flourishing in the dry, red earth. A landscape which I imagine would appear barren from a car window seems rich and teeming with life on foot.
Sometimes we get down about the amount of time we are forced to stop for various reasons – we have fallen behind our intial schedule by a couple of months – but this week, we have both felt that life really has conspired to show us the best of Spain before we leave. Seeing the pride and beauty in the rituals and costumes associated with the annual prigrimage to El Rocio has given us a new understanding of thecountry itself, outside of flamenco shows or tourist gimmicks. Watching the brilliant horsemanship and the absolute familiarity which with both males and females display around the animals, has demonstrated in a way which no tourist show can, the deep relationship between horse and man which is so integral to Andelucian culture. Hearing the songs, seeing the laughter and dancing, we have felt more at home in Spain than in all the time we have been here.
What a wonderful thing this walking business is.
Our next post will (hopefully) be the final one from Europe, as we are now into our final stretch toward the coast and our boat to Morocco. Thanks to all of you who have borne patiently our long delays and sent messages of encouragement and support – we absolutely love getting them.
Hasta la huego, amigos….