Don’t get me wrong. I love Semana Santa. Or did anyway. Especialy the first time I saw it, even the second and third times I thought it was pretty surreal. I've seen it in big cities like Seville and Malaga. I've seen it in small towns like Almunecar, and Loja. I loved the anonymity, the incense smell, the costumes and the sheer physical exertion from everyone from the nazarenos to the costeleros. In fact, I wrote a chapter on what I believe is really special about Semana Santa in Inside the tortilla. You can check out the photographic version in this weeks free ePub and PDF give-a-way: An Agnostic in Semana Santa and get a FREE CUT OUT DOLL'S at the same time too! See below for links.

But you see, after a few years things tend to change. Some people in town -  that I had previously thought to be afficionados of all things religious - turned out to be Semana Santa haters and one evening, they sat me down and gave me 5 persuasive reasons for fleeing Spain during Semana Santa.

Neither because its spring and everyone but the kitchen sink has uploaded a photo of almond blossom to their timeline whilst dancing to Sam Cooke: "It's been a long, a long time coming...but I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will"
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