Basque Pazkoa

We arrived in the Basque region in time for Easter. We had booked a three storey house on the edge of a small village in the mountains. It was a beautiful place to stay, with a ground floor bedroom and wet room for Racheal, and a big family room. Upstairs were four more bedrooms each with en suite, and two with their own sitting rooms looking out over an amazing view.

Having had a busy time in Seville and Ávila, Thursday was a fairly relaxed day just gathering information from a couple of Tourist Information offices to plan the weekend. That was after an encounter with a friendly local who knocked on our door to tell us that the bakery was open. He chatted away in Spanish, which I understood very little of as I walked the few minutes to the village square with him. There was one sort of bread loaf on the counter and a cardboard box on the floor, full of chorizo. After waiting a considerable length of time for all the villagers to complete their greetings to one another (it was quite a social gathering) I purchased one of each.

We chose to spend Good Friday at Laguardia, a fascinating walled town, about 20 minutes drive away. The procession wasn’t until 9pm, so we had a relaxed morning and set off after lunch.

A lift to take us from the car park up to one of the town gates was very welcome as the alternative route would have been horribly steep. The town, and a cafe stop, kept us occupied for a couple of hours. I chose a local traditional Easter delicacy; bread soaked in egg custard and sprinkled in cinnamon sugar.

For our evening meal we found a restaurant on the square serving ‘rations’ (like tapas but bigger) and chose a selection. From here, a walk in the park filled the time until the beginning of the procession. We were able to see through the church door to watch the figure of Christ being taken down from the cross above the alter. The streets were narrow so, after all the floats had left one church, we joined a crowd of people making their way down a parallel street to the other church to watch the procession pass. The only way through the town to get back to the car was to fall in behind and follow until we came to the gate in the wall where we needed to exit. Racheal enjoyed the band music and being out after dark.

The solemnity of the occasion, and witnessing the traditions of another culture, made Christ’s sacrifice even more poignant.

For Easter Sunday, we went to Vitoria-Gastiez - the capital of the Basque region, driving to the outskirts and catching a tram to the centre.

The procession here was around midday, from one cathedral to the other. We had our picnic in the park surrounding the ‘new’ cathedral. We were well placed to see the heavy cross, this time carried vertically and draped with white cloth, heading the column of people as they walked from the old cathedral. The different churches from the city were represented by their banners, and all gathered outside to be blessed before continuing through the main doors for mass. A group of four musicians, who we late saw busking in the city, accompanied the group until they went inside.

Vitoria impressed us with a number of easy access features such as lifts and moving walkways to make the very steep slopes in the old city accessible to all. It was here we spent the afternoon, in glorious sunshine befitting the celebration of Christ’s resurrection.

(Some photos are from Thursday’s visit to the Tourist Information Centre, when it was cold and wet!)

I missed celebrating Easter with my church family at home, but the Spanish traditions and the involvement of whole communities, particularly in smaller places, made me reflect on this important season in a new and refreshing way.

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed!

(Pazkoa is Easter in the Basque language.)