Going to bed was not an option. The noise from the streets was too alluring, too exciting, and much too loud to even consider staying inside and sleeping. While that was oftentimes the case here in Córdoba, it was especially true on this particular weekend. Finally, Las Cruces De Mayo had begun. A yearly tradition celebrated with particular fervor in southern Spain, this weekend-long party marks the beginning of the summer season and is rooted in the story of Saint Helen and her quest to find Jesus’s cross. For the natives of Córdoba, it is yet another worthy reason to bring everything to a halt and throw a city-wide party.

The preparations had begun weeks before, with the city slowly being shrouded in a blanket of elaborate floral installations. Every plaza had been graced with the presence of an enormous wooden cross, coated completely in flowers, as well as the addition of a tent under which was to be served bottomless vino, cervezas, and traditional tapas. Once everything was set in place, the entire city waited in anticipation for Friday night, the first of May, when Las Cruces would officially begin.

As soon as night fell, I was in the streets. The city had come alive. Meandering our way through the crowds from plaza to plaza, my friends and I took part in the celebration. The night was an intoxicating blur of music, dance, and drinks that had us light on our feet and bursting with joy. Having spent nearly a semester learning sevillanas, we proudly danced in the street to the music filling the air, coming toe to toe with the native Cordobeses who had been dancing this way since they first learned to stand. It was a liberating moment to leave behind our years of learning to speak Spanish, and simply let our hips and feet do the talking.

Our ambitious quest to visit every plaza in one evening was impossible from the get-go, but we insisted on trying anyway. Córdoba is filled with more plazas than I can count, many tucked away on side streets and around unexpected corners. Using the music as our guide, we blindly followed the sounds and let them lead us to new places. Around each corner we were greeted by an explosion of color, a higher volume of music, and an extended arm, bronzed by the warm Spanish sun, pointing us in the direction of the bar.

Men and women, some dressed casually, others more traditionally in flamenco skirts and floral hair accessories, danced and swapped partners with ease and grace. A band of jolly, drunken misfits kept the crowd alive with their renditions of classic Spanish songs, and all hands in the air were either twisting with the music or clutching a cup of red wine.

I paused a minute in one of the more crowded plazas, absorbing the joyful scene around me. Every morning since February I had walked these streets on the way to class and they were always quiet, nearly uninhabited at times. And yet, with the advent of nightfall after a beautiful early-summer day, these winding, cobblestone streets had suddenly become vibrant with life. That is the classic Andalucían way. Days spent with family, without haste, and nights spent in the streets, with energy, and with passion.

I took a sip of my tinto de verano under the shadow of a cross and the watchful eyes of a giant poster of Jesus, hung beside a sculpture of a weeping Mary. I tilted my head back to breathe in the night’s sweet air. In any other context, this mix of sensual dance and drink with overt, traditional Catholicism might not have made much sense. In Córdoba, however, that perhaps contradictory combination becomes a powerful duality, and it determines how things get done. All of it, from faith to fun, is rooted in devotion and love for one another. This is the way of life for these Spaniards, and what a wonderful life it is.

 

Caroline Davis is a Spanish major and Government minor with a love of writing and travel.  She is a senior class representative in King House, a contributor to The Sophian and the SmithBySmithies blog, and a student worker with the Office of College Relations. A Connecticut native, she has a strong fondness for political satire and English breakfast tea.

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