Recently, Husband and I spent a weekend in Madrid, and then two weeks later we returned to Spain for an extended trip through Andalusia, because whenever we go to Spain, we go back two weeks later. Not really on purpose, it's just how our travels always fall and it's weird but hey we like Spain. If we go to Spain once, we go twice, usually in the same month. But this part of Spain, the southern part, was new to us, although I did spend a weekend during college in Malaga at a resort I found on hostelworld.com for supercheap but I didn't leave the resort the whole time so it doesn't really count. Also I was alone at the resort, which was filled with Spanish families and lots of children and everyone stared me and it was the most awkward thing ever. Anyway, we're not here to talk about that. We are here to talk about something that finally surpassed the awkwardness of that Malaga weekend: Easter week in Seville. See, we didn't realize that Seville was the epicentre of Easter, not until we were smack dab in the center of the insane crowds and shocking costumes. I don't know if you know this, but you know Jesus? Hoo boy, he's big there. And Jesus Fever spreads at similar strengths throughout all of Andalusia, so while I'm just talking about Seville today, the rest of my Andalusia posts will feature similar levels of craycray bananapants.
READ IT ALL!
READ IT ALL!
RSS Feed
