Flowers, frills, fru-fru...and horses - Feria de Abril (Seville, Spain)

Next to Semana Santa, the Feria is probably the next biggest thing on every Sevillano’s calendar so we just had to experience it. How could we not?

As soon as the dust settled from Semana Santa celebrations, the energy around town changed from religious devotion to a party city. Stores selling trajes de flamenco and complementos – the flowers, shawls, earrings to accessorise the outfits – were all packed with women meticulously colour matching their ramillete (flowers) and manton (shawls) to their dresses.

At this stage I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to get all dressed up. The effort (and cost) involved just seemed too much. So I resigned us to the fact that we were going to experience the event as an outsider – dressed up as best we could in our travel wardrobe – not in Flamenco gear. That was until I got a text message a week before Feria: “Muummmmmm, can I pretty please dress up for Feria? I have a friend that has a caseta.”

After all, we were here to experience it. Wasn’t that the whole point? So how could I say no?

That afternoon we trudged to a little shop we had seen months prior knowing they rented out Flamenco dresses. We picked our dresses, shawls, and flowers with the help of Marieta – the shop owner and our ‘stylist’. She showed us how to wear the shawl, how to do our hair, how and where to fasten the flowers. Not on the side, not behind the ear, not at the base of a bun or ponytail. “No! No! No! En otro pais si. Pero no es Sevillana. Sevillana aqui!”, she said quite emphatically when I questioned the position of the flower on top of the head. Ok. On top of the head, three finger spaces back from the hairline it is!

We agreed to come back on Tuesday the following week to pick up our dresses.

The Feria officially opened with the lighting of the arch way at midnight on Saturday, so we excitedly headed over to check it out on Sunday afternoon. The ride on the bus with both women and men getting on the bus all dressed up added to the anticipation. When we got to the fairground I was momentarily stunned into immobility trying to take it all in. The dresses, the flowers, the horses, the flowers on the horses, the bells on the horses, the carriages, the people so close to the huge horses, the horse dung, the horses….

“Kat!!!”, I screamed. She was so keen on capturing photos of everything happening in front of us that she didn’t realise she had walked dangerously close to and was now standing directly behind a horse. All I could see was the horses butt and hind legs coming up to her head. Her life flashed before my eyes. I could see her getting kicked to kingdom come. Kat turned and glared at me “Don’t yell at me!”. “Get out from behind that horse!”, I gritted my teeth to control my nerves and stay as calm as possible (although her version states I wasn’t very calm).

Horses...

...horses...

...and more horses everywhere.

Feeling like a mother in need of Prozac I continued to get overwhelmed by it all. It was all so pretty yet all so… overwhelming. People and horses. People crossing in front of horses. Horses getting restless around people, around all the other horses. Riders trying to control their horses around people. Horses with bells, with flowers, some with carriages, some with single riders, some with pretty ladies riding side-saddle in their Flamenco dresses. We were finally able to pluck the courage to cross the street and steer clear of those horses.

People and horses share the road. It wasn't uncommon to be walking only to 
turn around and find a horses face breathing down behind you.

Ladies ride side-saddle effortlessly.

One of the younger riders confidently takes charge with 
single-handed and side-saddle riding.

Horses decorated for the occasion.

Young girls having fun with their drinks outside 
a caseta as their parents party nearby.

Those frills can hold 'government secrets'. 
A girl reaches inside a hidden pocket within the layer of frills.

Just one of the many pretty dresses

Then there were the pretty lanterns, the beautifully decorated casetas, more horses, the horse dung, the vibrant dresses with all their frills and polkadots, the music, people milling around outside the casetas, people walking around with Manzanilla-filled champagne glasses and plastic jugs and cups filled with rebujito – a popular drink during Feria made with a mixture of Manzanilla, 7-up and huge chunks of ice. We were told this is so they can keep drinking this diluted alcoholic mixture all day and all night without getting too drunk.

We made our way to a public caseta where we found the dancing…everyone dancing the Sevillana in their dresses that accentuate every move of their arms and every swirl. Kids, teenagers, grandmothers…it looked like everyone came out of the womb just knowing how to dance this dance. It looked easy enough yet I wouldn’t dare. I have two left feet at the best of times. I wasn’t going to try this until I had practiced in front of a mirror – and even then - would I even try it at all?!

A group of young girls dancing the Sevillana 
on the sidewalk outside the public caseta.
Photo credit: Kat Matias

Friends we made at the public caseta - Mila and her family - who kindly 
shared their pitcher of rebujito with us. They're from Valencia and 
came to visit for the Feria. She showed me pictures of 
herself and her daughter dressed up for 
Valencia's internationally renowned fiesta 
"Las Fallas" held in mid-March.

We left the fairground early by Sevillano standards – around 8pm (they leave at 8am!) My senses were frayed. I felt frazzled and exhausted. Seven days?? They do this all day and all night for seven days??!

Sure enough, Tuesday came rolling around. We picked up our dresses, spent all afternoon getting ready, and planned to head off to the fairgrounds in the late afternoon. The ‘getting ready’ was part of the fun and dragged out a bit too long over the entire afternoon. The entire apartment was a mess with all our ‘stuff’ but we finally got there. By 5pm we were ready to go!

Precious cargo

Finishing touches and we're almost ready to go.

“Shit!” I said out loud. “How the hell do I board a bus in this dress??” Momentary panic. We’ll figure it out when we get there. Surely I wasn’t the the only one with this problem. Worst case… don’t those buses have they hydraulic thing-a-ma-jigs for wheel chairs? Slightly embarrassing if it had to be used because I couldn’t board the bus in my Flamenco dress. Oh well...

On the way to the bus stop. It's all about the back.

Waiting... and hoping I can lift my leg high enough to get on the bus!

We got to the fairgrounds and made our way to one of the public casetas where we based ourselves (and our feet) for the evening. There was an interesting mix of people. Travellers in jeans watching and joining in the fun trying to learn the Sevillana, locals who preferred to dance the Sevillana, excellent dancers who danced anything but the Sevillana, the group of guys in jeans and t-shirts teaching ladies how to dance the Sevillana, many teenagers dancing with their first loves or high school crushes (or brothers/sisters/cousins??), strangers having dance-offs with each other, more teenagers with their plastic jugs filled with rebujito, the little 7-year old girl in her own world dancing with all the moves to a modern pop song. I had read that the problem with the public casetas is that you can’t really control the mix of people and can get some ‘undesirables’ but I found that’s what made it interesting. It was such an eclectic mix of people that you wouldn’t necessarily get in a private caseta. Of course, you just need to do a bit of ‘public caseta hopping’ to find one where the crowd suits you. One of the earlier ones we visited had a bit of a ‘rough and ready’ feel to it with a child screaming a song into a microphone so we exited pronto.

I felt homesick. If we were born and bred in Seville, I have no doubt the Feria would have been such a fun tradition – especially for kids growing up. Suddenly we missed all our family and friends. Could we see this happening in Australia?? Absolutely not. It seemed like such a weird thing for Australians to get into. The closest thing I can think of is the Royal Easter Show meets Melbourne Cup - on steroids - but even that's not quite right. In the Philippines?? Definitely. There are so many aspects of life here in Seville that remind me of the Philippines, the Feria is just one of them. While there isn’t any single event in the Philippines that comes close to it, I can definitely see it happening there more than I can see it in Australia. Suddenly the isolation of travelling on our own set in. Ah well…moving on.

Andalusia (Seville being its capital) is known for its dancing horses and their dominance in the Feria was obvious with the horses and their riders. Whilst horses weren’t dancing on the streets (although you would occasionally see riders make their horse do a sideward trot), riders in total control of their steer with reigns in one hand and a champagne glass in another showed off their underlying skill.

Riding with one hand is part of a Spanish riding discipline called 
Doma Vaquera - based on traditional cattle herding. 
That leaves the other hand free for a drink of course.

Another single handed rider leaving the reigns to his son - literally.

There was even someone assigned to the task
of keeping the riders 'well hydrated'.

   Just like Semana Santa, not all Sevillanos like the Feria. For some it’s a money pit (agree), for others it’s a lot of pomp and pageantry just ‘for show’ (maybe). Love it or hate it, what is undeniable is that it’s a part of the Sevillano way of life. Families and organisations who have private casetas every year, the public casetas made available for each district to ensure everyone – not just the rich – can enjoy the celebrations, the ladies in their dresses, the horses and their riders (who I suspect and have yet to confirm are from the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art in neighbouring Jerez de la Frontera), the whole community of equestrian lovers including the horsemen/women and their carriages and the mounted police. They all come together during the Feria to represent what Seville (and Andalusia) is all about. For anyone visiting Seville, it’s a great experience – an assault on the senses – but worth every minute. There’s nothing quite like it. Dressing up in Flamenco gear is optional. Many simply go dressed up for a nice evening out (or jeans if you don’t mind sticking out as the tourist).

We left Kat at her friend’s caseta agreeing that she needed to be home by no later than 2am (negotiated down from 3am!). She would catch the bus and John would meet her at the corner of our street so she wouldn’t have to walk that final stretch to the apartment alone. Something I’m not sure I would be comfortable with in Sydney but I feel safe in Seville for some reason – especially during times like Feria and Semana Santa when there are so many people out and about quite late.

We still have 3 days to go of the Feria and we  will be heading back for one last time before it ends – this time I'm going in jeans and sneakers! If that doesn’t give away my tourist status the camera around my neck certainly will.

Here are some more happy snaps in our gear. We weren't about to let the photo ops pass us by given that we are probably never going to wear anything like this again.