Today is Easter Sunday and I came across an Easter procession, quite by chance, in Fuengirola today.
Fuengirola, if you are not familiar with it, is a town of similar size to Marbella and located just a little further along the coast. It lacks Marbella´s pretention and snob appeal and has an altogether earthier feel. It is a little rough around the edges but that is something I like about it. It certainly seems to have a greater appeal to those who are looking for a cheap and cheerful holiday. If you are an English speaker and want a bit of sunshine without everything being ruined by “foreigners” you will find that you are well catered for here. There is premiership football in the seafront bars and fish and chips if you are nervous of seeing something on your plate which is unfamiliar. If you keep your ears open you will notice that many languages are spoken by people in the street. Many visitors are English speakers but you will hear Russian, French, German and various Scandinavian languages and, of course, the Spanish spoken by the locals.
The procession made its way through Los Boliches and I happened to come across it as a heavy wooden float supporting a statue was being manoeuvred slowly into the street. There were heaps of uniformed trumpeters and various church figures and local dignitaries and kids beautifully turned out. The participants were surrounded by curious onlookers like me taking snaps on their phones. Even the TV people were there.
These Easter processions are a feature of life here in Spain. Some of them are huge. A few years ago we had a first floor balcony terrace from which to look at our local procession in Alhaurin el Grande. It seemed that a huge proportion of the town´s population must have been involved in the parade.
I don´t know what God made of all this fuss in Fuengirola today. He must have pretty high expectations because no sooner had the procession made its way along the streets than he instructed the heavens to open and the first heavy shower for weeks fell on top of everyone. All those kids, whose mums would have spent ages getting ready, would have been drenched, and the trumpet players too, and the guys carrying the heavy statue. Everyone.
I didn´t hang around to observe the wrath of God but managed to scarper and find some shelter under the raised railway tracks.
Far be it from me to make any observations on the nature, or the existence of God. That´s your call. But if he exists I don´t think he is the smiley one with the big beard. Surely He would not have drenched all the poor sods with their bugles by raining on their parade.
Before the heavens opened
A striking mural of Hendrix and Bob Marley
fishydreams 