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Purple penitents, men in horned masks and winged Virgin Marys: Tim Wyatt revels in Easter in Ecuador

Easter in Britain can be a sorry affair: a tired donkey processing up a provincial high street, and maybe a half-hearted egg hunt in the church. But to experience this festival in its all glory, glitz and glamour, head to Quito, a city whose inhabitants delight in being even more Catholic than the Spanish who converted them half a millennium ago.

During Semana Santa (Holy Week), you can barely move inside the historic Old Town, without stumbling across a gaudy procession or stupendously extravagant church service. My Ecuadorian Easter begins at the city’s cathedral, which sits in the heart of the colonial plazas and narrow streets. Just a few days before Good Friday, this centuries-old sacred space is host to a special mass which, across the entire Catholic world, can only be seen here.

The Arrastre de Caudas, or dragging of the cape, is borrowed from the ancient Roman custom of lifting a dead general’s cape over his troops, transferring the honour he earned in death on to them. In Quito, this has evolved into the Archbishop Emeritus – resplendent in luscious purple robes with ermine-trimmed hood – waving an enormous black flag emblazoned with a red cross at the congregation. But before the main event, the crowd of Quiteños squeezes into the cathedral and enjoys several hours of liturgy, choral music and processions up and down the aisles. The dazzling array of coloured robes, candles and bells is only matched by the riot of gold leaf and rococo sculpting which covers the building from floor to ceiling.

There is no relief from the assault on the senses after I squeeze back out of the cathedral into the central square of the Old Town. A candlelit procession emerges from the sanctuary just as night begins to fall. Led by the Archbishop, at least 20 white-robed seminarians chant “Save Ecuador” while clacking wooden boards and waving incense from side to side. Meanwhile, crowds begin to line the boulevard to observe the painstakingly slow progress of the procession.

Flanked by police motorcycle riders with flashing red and blue lights, an eccentric collection of people steadily makes it way along the historic Street of the Seven Crosses. Some are simply holding candles, but others are dressed as winged Virgin Marys or in traditional indigenous clothing. Soldiers in uniform march by carrying a glass funeral bier on their shoulders with a figurine of the crucified Christ inside. There is a marching band, and more women in frilly dresses and golden crowns, carrying baby dolls. A man I cannot see is shouting into a loudspeaker over and over that this is the “night of the light” and that “Jesus is the light of the world”.

No Easter experience in Ecuador is complete with satiating just the eyes, ears and nose. There is food to taste, too. The next day I arrive for lunch at Altamira, an unpretentious restaurant just to the north of the Old Town. I am here to learn how to make the dish fanesca. Although this complex soup is only eaten during Holy Week, everyone in Ecuador has their own recipe. Despite my guide’s insistence his mother’s method is the best, the friendly kitchen team at Altamira soon have us chopping, frying, sim