I GO! Edition 9 Easter Special, On Cultural Flattening, Seville's Semana Santa, and the Joy of Traditions

This Week: Seville–London

There are so many cities around the world, that look, feel, and sound the same bland mix of global food and clothing chain stores.

The Slow Death of Local Stories

Hollywood, Netflix, TikTok, Instagram...all serving the same soup of standardised content to appeal to the masses, with similar aesthetics, humour, and concerns. Our global reference points, inspired by Western, often US, dominance, drowning local storytelling.

Globalisation, digital monoculture, and consumer capitalism have led to a 'cultural flattening'—where unique local identities are slowly being erased.

In the UK, the demise of the high street is a perfect metaphor for this global trend. Once vibrant community spaces—with local bakers, butchers, independent shops—they are now ghosted by the same anonymous brands and boarded-up windows.

And then there is .... Seville, which, during the Semana Santa, felt like the ultimate antidote to all this sameness.

Seville, An Antidote to Blandness

While according to UNESCO, one language disappears every two weeks, and traditional rituals, crafts, and stories are rapidly declining —Seville says NO.

Seville is a city that refuses to polish, standardise and go through 'museumisation'. The Andalusian city is not overdone, is a bit rough round the edges, a bit old-fashioned, with its bullfighting and inner city convents, but it's so refreshingly real and so rich with traditions, heaving with history and culture, its rich Moorish heritage evident with its Mudéjar arches and somptuous Alcazar, its church domes, old Jewish quarter, ceramic walls and balconies dripping with flowers, streets named after the Inquisition - a fascinating blend of Islamic and Christian legacy.

Pious Extravaganza: Semana Santa

Spending Holy Week in Seville is a masterclass in cultural resilience. It is a very special time of the year to spend in a city that hums with soul, scent, and spectacle. The smoky smell of frankincense spreading through cobbled alleyways during the processions lasting hours and hours, in front of adoring crowds of families dressed up to the nines, the austere conic hats of the penitents, the music, the women of all ages wearing black mantillas, little black dresses with killer heels and bright lipstick, holding court in the streets.

In Triana, the spiritual heart of Andalucía, with its Flamenco bars and old ceramic workshops, we watched crowds queue hours to admire the pasos—those hauntingly beautiful religious floats carried by hooded penitents from centuries-old brotherhoods.

La Semana Santa is one of the most important religious and cultural events in Spain. And in Seville, it's a huge deal. Over 60 Catholic brotherhoods (hermandades or cofradías) take part, some dating back to the 13th century.

Each brotherhood organises a procession that includes:

Nazarenos: Penitents wearing traditional robes and pointed hoods (capirotes), walking in silence or barefoot, some carrying huge wooden crosses.

Costaleros: Bearers who carry massive floats (pasos) featuring dramatic statues of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and scenes from the Passion.

Bands playing traditional music, marchas procesionales.

Some floats weigh over a ton, requiring 30–50 men to carry them through the streets, often for over 8 hours, which means they stop and go every few minutes.

All this spectacle is a sensual explosion of history, belief, tradition, with a fair amount of posing - Catholicism, Dolce & Gabana style.

And a living, breathing tableau for all to enjoy - youngsters, grandparents, small children, of all social backgrounds, and of course, awe-struck and amused tourists.

Not a Traditionalist—a Culturalist

I don’t cling to tradition for its own sake.

But I am a culturalist. I believe traditions matter when they empower, connect, and celebrate. They give texture to our lives, especially in a world veering toward the monochrome.

The threat of mass unification of culture aforementioned is such that UNESCO launched an Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH) list, with hundreds of practices, festivals, dances, oral traditions, and crafts we need to protect.

Seville does not need it: it clings on to its traditions, unapologetically. And it's so beautiful to witness local communities mobbing the streets to share a few beers and tapas while noisily gossiping or joking, the sound of loud adult cackle and laughter and children's screams of glee filling the streets. We hardly saw anyone on their phones.

Beyond Tapas and Greasy Bites

Onto the food now. At the risk of sounding very unpopular, I am not a huge fan of salty and greasy tapas and traditional Spanish fare...so after much research I found a couple of special spots in Seville.

First, the quirkiest bar in Seville: Bar Garlochi, packed with religious iconography, statues, candelabras to drink a 'Sangre de Cristo' (Whisky, Cava, Pomegranate syrup).

La Quinta Braseria: a refined modern take on traditional dishes. From the tuna croquettes with Japanese accents to their selection of tender meats and 'carbon rice' dishes and vast selection of wines from all over Spain, we were so impressed every time, we went twice. The creamy lobster black rice was absolutely out of this world.

Final word, once you're done with all the usual tourist sights, add a visit of the exquisite Palacio de las Dueñas, which belongs to the Alba family, to admire its mix of Renaissance and Moorish style, courtyards, collection of art, homage to Andalusian culture and calm, relaxing, rose-filled gardens. Poetic and restful.

Easter, Rebirth, and My Mother’s Tables

Happy Easter by the way! I have always loved this time of year, not so much for the theology, but for the ritual, the light, and the pagan celebration of rebirth, the end of a long tunnel of dark and cold weather in Western Europe.

As a child, my mother would craft wonderful "tablescapes" for Easter Sunday: pastel linens, fresh moss, tiny sugar eggs, flowers spilling from porcelain jugs. In my village, church bells would ring in the background, post-mass, as children searched the garden for hidden chocolate treats. The endless lunch with extended family and so many courses and matching wines, the sun pouring into the dining room in the afternoon. The rosy-cheeked, tipsy adults.

My mother taught me that creating moments of celebration is an act of love.

And so now, even in my own way—agnostic, cosmopolitan—I still prepare the Easter table. Tomorrow for Easter Sunday I will cook Agneau Pascal, decorate with spring blossoms and table favours. I will hide chocolates around the garden, pursue the rituals that give colour and meaning to life.

So this weekend, let's GO! with even more intention and joy.

More celebration.

More flavour.

More soul.

With love, mindfulness and curiosity.

Your forever traveller,

Charlotte