In a very short time Mazatlán’s population will almost double. Or seem to. But this phenomenon will last for only a week or two, during the period known here in Mexico as Semana Santa. Every resort throughout the country experiences the same ebb and flow of bodies around Easter time, for schools are out, government offices are closed, many business close up shop. All the world, it seems, goes on vacation. Even the bums, the beggars, the pickpockets, anybody who hangs out where the crowds do, comes to the beach to take the sea and sun and whatever else they can get their hands on. The crowd descends on Mazatlán during Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, although many visitors stay on through Easter Week, the seven days that follow. The tightest days of all during Semana Santa are from Holy Thursday through Easter Sunday, when traffic barely moves in the Golden Zone, and most residents who can afford to, stock up on groceries, surround themselves with videos or books they haven’t read, and just stay home. Visitors who come to town to party turn the beaches into a Coney Island mob scene where the cerveza flows, the boom boxes blare, and finding a spot to spread out your beach blanket isn’t easy. The vendors do a brisk business, and so do the operators of the jet ski rentals, parachute rides, and other beach concessions. Those Mazatlecos who have to work shudder at the mention of Semana Santa, for whether they take the bus or drive to their jobs, they know they’re going to have to allow at least an extra hour to get where they’re going, especially at quitting time around 6 or 7 o’clock. Meanwhile, of course, Easter is a religious time for many locals. In past years the Catholic Church has organized, in the baseball stadium, a gathering of devout youth called PAJUMA—that’s an acronym for PAscua de la JUventud de MAzatlan—with the objective of praying for the sinners who are

frolicking on the beach. But this year, says a Catholic spokeswoman, the young people will be doing that in their own parishes instead of en masse. For practicing Catholics who have been observing Lent since Ash Wednesday, the Easter season starts with Palm Sunday. Before the Mass begins on that day, they’re singing hallelujahs in commemoration of Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. People form a procession to enter the blossom-filled church. They receive fronds of blessed palm to take home and hang on a wall, replacing last year’s palms. As individuals, the truly devout might go to church on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday of that week—or perhaps all three—to follow the stations of the cross and meditate privately. On Holy Thursday, the Mass starts at 5 p.m. or later, and at the Cathedral downtown, a student from the Martinez Cabrera School will act as Christ for the ceremonial washing of the feet, while other students play Roman soldiers who come to arrest Him. The three hours of Good Friday (noon to 3 p.m.) are not observed here, and there is no Mass on that day. In the morning, priests follow the Way of the Cross in their own parish churches while the congregation sings laments. On Holy Saturday, here called Sabado de Gloria, Easter is considered to start at sundown (at 7 p.m., actually), when the fires in the altar lamps and the holy water is blessed in each church. People will go to an evening Mass or one on Easter morning, and their fasts of such Lenten foods as fish and capirotada (a delicious bread pudding served only during the season) will be over. The Christian custom north of the border of wearing new clothes at Easter time doesn’t exist in Mexico. Here, the people sport their new duds for Christmas. And there’s nary a sign of an Easter basket or a bunny. Whether you’re spending your Semana Santa on the beach or in the church, or a combination of the two, the staff of the Pacific Pearl wants to wish you all a very Happy Easter!