Religion is Odd

Another strange and wonderful day today, as we headed to a festival encompassing Holy week.
We weren't quite sure what to expect, the extent of our knowledge being that hundreds of giant wooden crosses would be involved, so it would probably look nice.
After a couple of somewhat sweaty subway rides, we arrived at the scene of the festivities, which at first glance were much like any other - free water being handed out, the odd poorly maintained fairground ride, food stalls, the usual stuff.

But I soon got an inkling strange things were afoot, when a boy no older than ten staggered past me, dressed head to toe in purple robes, hauling a six foot wooden cross along the ground a la Jesus Christ on the way to his crucifixion.

As we pushed through crowds of onlookers, we were greeted by the sight of hundreds of men carrying similar crosses along the tarmac. Many were barefoot, forcing them to hop painfully along the road. Some ran fast whilst others clearly struggled in the blistering heat, helped along by friends or family members.

These men were accompanied by others on horseback, many dressed as Roman soldiers, plus teams of musicians that seemed overly reliant on tubas.
At one point a huge commotion in the slow moving crowd revealed itself to be The Messiah himself, a Jesus lookalike staggering dazed through the crowd supported by others in biblical costume.
We were told that Mexican men bearing a passing resemblance to JC sign up to be selected for this great honour, and all the cross bearers too earn huge respect from family and friends for their participation.

Further investigation revealed that this annual festival has been taking place for a staggering 162 years. The men drag their huge crosses for miles through the streets, before coming to rest atop a hill where the sea of crucifixes are staked into the ground.
Attempts by us to find this magical hill were thwarted by endless waves of cross bearers, a massive police prescence, as well as our lack of patience - no one being allowed into that part of town until all the crosses had made it through the streets.

My camera is now full of pictures of men hauling crosses around, but I like the one above as it seems to convey a hint of the emotion felt by deeply religious Mexicans on days such as these (many of the crosses, and indeed the men themselves, sported crowns of thorns).
Not a sentiment I share admittidly, but that's another matter.


Also Today:

Met a man with a pet iguana on a lead. Held said iguana.
Saw lots of statues much older than Jesus.
Left bag containing Lucy's E-reader in restuarant.
Retrieved bag after very frantic subway ride.
Burnt face.