Like a Virgin

It seems like I haven't seen a Virgin in months. That's "Virgin" with a capital "V." Or in Sevilla, La Virgen. There were I know processions regularly throughout the summer but, unlike last year (our first year in Sevilla), I didn't run around taking pictures of them all. I was very grateful to not have to go very far this morning when at 10:15, San Geraldo said, "There's a small procession heading this way."

HEADING OUR WAY. VIEWED FROM THE DINING ROOM AT 10:15.

I grabbed my camera and went from balcony to balcony looking for the best angles and finally decided that downstairs was a better option. So, I threw on some clothes (yes, I was still in bed at 10:15) and popped downstairs. At noon, when we returned from breakfast and the procession had just returned to the streets, I took some more photos.

AT NOON, AFTER LEAVING THE CONVENT OF THE SISTERS OF SANTA ROSALÍA.

JUST AS SHE REACHED OUR BUILDING.

This particular Virgin was the first one we had seen process on our street after we moved in last year. So today was my second time! I wonder if that means I'm no longer a virgin. No need to respond. First of all, I was no longer a virgin a long (a very long) time ago. Besides, in answer to some questions I had of a sexual nature at the age of 12, my father told me a little (a very little) about the birds and the bees. I didn't buy a word of it. Actually, he was so embarrassed and nervous, some of what he told me turned out to not even be true! Lesson learned. After that, I just asked my friends.

TURNING THE CORNER ON HER WAY HOME.

But back to La Virgen. The Brotherhood of the Holy Cross annually carries "Our Lady of Sorrows" from a couple of streets away at the Capilla del Dulce Nombre de Jesús (Chapel of the Sweet Name of Jesus) for a brief visit to the nearby convent of the Sisters of Santa Rosalía. Around noon, she makes her return trip.

THE ENTOURAGE TAKING HER HOME.

There was no music, just a man with a battery-powered megaphone droning on in Latin the entire time. He offered an odd juxtaposition to the grandeur, elegance, and antiquity of the procession.

LATIN IS A DEAD LANGUAGE.  IT'S PLAIN ENOUGH TO SEE.
IT KILLED OFF ALL THE ROMANS.  AND NOW IT'S KILLING ME.

I've had a rough week (and two days). As if the jet lag and fitful sleep weren't bad enough, Tuesday evening I came down with a "bug" of some sort, felt awful, and didn't sleep one minute the entire night. The bug passed quickly, but then I felt as if the jet lag had started all over again. That of course brought on some depression. But, last night I slept (and didn't wake up until 10:15 as you'll recall).

It "made me feel... shiny and new."