¿Parles català?

Tomatoes at La Boqueria market

The springtime deluges of tourists turn parts of Spain into a temporary quagmire. One must wade through the bog if you wish to see any big “sights” in big cities. And what a bog Barcelona is in April! (But it’s a pretty bog with lots of flowers in bloom . . .)

The discriminating tourist (Brad and/or me, for example) knows that there’s more to a city/country than those hyped sights. (Granted, many sights get all the hype because they are truly are incredible, and worth a 20 Euro train ticket or a mile-long climb uphill, and they are certainly worth photographing thoroughly.)

The undiscriminating tourist waits for half an hour to see the thirteenth-century Black Virgin at the basilica of Montserrat; then when he finally gets to the sculpture, he immediately turns to smile for a photo – instead of gazing at a legendary Madonna in a holy place. The discriminating tourist finds a tour book-recommended tavern for lunch; then orders whatever the locals sitting next to him recommend to eat, and consequently becomes friends with a Catalunyan family and ends up getting free drinks.

Barcelona

When Brad and I were dating in college, he spent a semester in Spain. His group traveled all over the country, but he was especially impressed with a few spots – one was Barcelona. He loved the architecture of Gaudi. Gaudi’s final and largest project, a massive church called the Templo Expiatorio de la Sagrada Familia, was far from finished when he died. Brad told me that the church was slated to be completed in 2020 . . . and he wanted us to visit Barcelona together to see the finished version. This was several months before we got engaged and the college-version of Neely got all flustered and excited that the college-version of Brad wanted to still be with her when he was 40-years-old.

Well, we got in a great visit to Barcelona just this weekend, and now I have lots more than just the Sagrada Familia to see when I return years from now. It was Brad talking about Barcelona that first got me interested in going, and it was my parents’ encouragement that got me to book the flight and hotel. At the onset of our time in Spain, we had great plans to see every province in Spain, but that’s crazy and I’ve only seen a fraction of the country. Mom and Dad know me so well that they didn’t want me to miss the funky, artsy city of Barcelona.

Our first order of business in Barcelona was to check out some of its wonderful art and architecture. We ascended Montjuic to the Museu Nacional, which has a world-class collection of Romanesque art and lot of cool Gothic and Renaissance stuff too. Their Catalan Romanesque pieces (most from the thirteenth-century) are essentially frescoes that were lifted off the walls in tiny churches in Catalunya and transferred to the museum. Deep, vibrant colors and compositional balance are typical in Catalan Romanesque.

A domed apse; the seraphim were painted with 3 pairs of wings. Many of the renderings had eyes painted all over the angels’ wings – signifying the eye of God that sees all
Christ with the four gospels symbolized by creatures

Montjuic is a hill in southwest Barcelona that is home to: the National Palace, built for the 1929 Expo, gardens, buildings from the 1992 Olympics, a great Miro museum (which I will have to visit on my next trip to Barcelona) and gorgeous views of the entire city.

Palau Nacional
View of Barcelona with the Sagrada Familia in the distance

Gaudi is not the only architect of note who designed buildings in Barcelona, but he is certainly the most beloved and probably the zaniest. In his later years, he became extremely religious and vowed to only design sacred spaces. Before taking this vow, he designed some of the most famous and ingenious secular spaces and buildings in Barcelona. One building, called Casa Batlló, was inspired by the story of Saint George and the dragon.

Casa Batlló; the balconies are the skulls of the people eaten by the dragon, and the roof line of the building is the dragon’s scaly back

Park Güell is a space that Gaudi designed originally as a private estate, but later it was opened as a public park. From Park Güell, one can see all of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. The structures in the park are fabulous and make you feel like you’re in a silly dream world.

The two buildings at the entrance to Park Güell

The Sagrada Familia is trippy. Construction was begun in 1882 and it’s still a full-on construction site. You still get mesmerized by the soaring palm branch ceiling and the seemingly out-of-place figures sculpted into the front of the church. The only reason anything seems out-of-place is because Gaudi did stuff that no one else did. He put a green Christmas tree covered with white doves above the main door of the church and he put large sea turtles at the bases of columns . . . Why not? It’s all so cool! Eventually the church will have 12 sky-scraping towers and the design input of numerous individuals. Most of Gaudi’s own plans for the structure were destroyed, so people have tried to remember what he had planned – and they’re building what they hope will honor his memory.


We visited another memorable holy place during our stay in Barcelona: Montserrat. Montserrat is a somewhat remote mountain (1 hour from Barcelona) with a monastery and basilica. According to legend, St. Peter brought the icon La Moreneta, or the “Black Virgin,” here centuries ago. Numerous miracles have supposedly occurred at this spot, and the holy grail is here of course as well. Religious pilgrims (and tourists) keep the mountaintop basilica busy. Although the basilica was gorgeous (especially the life-size Romanesque mosaics of female saints that line the walls just before you get to the Black Madonna) and the boys choir sang beautifully, it was the mountain views that filled me with that quiet sense of God.

La Moreneta; Romanesque art depicts the Virgin as a throne for Christ and metaphorically depicts the link between the holy and the human. Note: I didn’t take this photo – I was too busy being a discriminating tourist.
Montserrat literally means "serrated mountain"
The Hermitage of Sant Joan on the top of a peak

You’ll be shocked to hear that our trip to Barcelona wasn’t only about visiting religious cites. We also ate and drank our way through the city. Our first meal was sushi – actually sort of a spiritual experience after being deprived of it for so long. We found a bagel place – Brad was in heaven. And did you know that all cava (Spanish champagne) comes from Catalunya?

A couple of Brad’s fellow “scholars” who are researching in Barcelona took us to a great restaurant, and invited us to “Mexican night” for supper the next day. It was super fun to see them and swap funny culture-clash stories.

One day, Brad and I found an out-of-the-way taverna for lunch. We were seated next to a family at a long table. After ordering our drinks from the waitress, the man sitting next to Brad leaned over and asked if we spoke Spanish. Language always builds a wonderful bridge, and we were chatting away with them before long. The guy strongly recommended that we order the caracoles, “snails.” He said that this restaurant has the absolute best. We’d never eaten snails, but there’s a little something called, “seizing the day,” so we did it!

Our pan of caracoles
Brad, using a special tool (called a wooden stick) to eat the snails

We didn’t just have snails in an incredibly rich tomato sauce, we also had a big plate of grilled meats. By the end of our delicious meal, the patriarch of the Catalunyan family next to us was giving us glasses of cava and making us try their dessert. We topped it all off with some scotch and orange soda. You don’t get more Spanish than that.

Our menu at the memorable lunch spot

Os cuento

Plaza San Salvador on a Friday afternoon

The cultural norms and quirks of southern Spain are fascinating to me. I am forever attempting discuss the cultural differences between here and home. So far, I have found Spaniards themselves to be the best at describing their unique ways. Spaniards who have traveled elsewhere are acutely aware of how special their home is. (Andaluces, or folks from Andalucía, are especially proud of home – and few ever leave.) Below, I recount two cultural experience stories from Spaniards.

Las Pipas

Pipas, or sunflower seeds, are extremely popular in Sevilla, and everyone spits the shells on the ground while eating. (Littering – even inorganic material – is standard in Spain.) The pipa consumption during Semana Santa was mind-blowing. Every plaza had a carpet of shells.

A Sevillana was studying abroad in England one summer. One day, she was eating pipas. Gradually she realized that everyone standing around was staring at her. Then she realized that maybe they don’t spit the shells into the street in England. She noted that it was noticeably clean in their country, but they’re just pipas! What’s the big deal?

The Waitress

Dining in Spain is an exercise in patience and assertiveness training. In order to be served, it is necessary to flag down a waiter (usually takes several attempts) and yell out your order before he angrily storms off. Wait staff in Spain do not rely on tips because they have a decent salary. I tip 20% in the US, and here I usually leave a few cents or nothing.

Two Spanish women walk into a restaurant in the U.S. As they are being seated, their waitress walks by and says something like, “Hi there! How are y’all doing tonight? I’m Jessica and I’ll be taking care of y’all. If you need anything, just give me a holler!”

One of the Spaniards, thinking Jessica must be a good friend (after such a warm introduction), stood up and gave her a kiss on both cheeks – the proper way to greet any acquaintance. The other Spanish woman, having some experience with American wait staff, was so embarrassed that she immediately stood up and left the restaurant.

Mis estudiantes

I’m working again! Not for the flamenco shop family who never learned how to smile . . . I’m an English tutor! One of my pupils is Mario, the previously-mentioned Peruvian gentleman, and my other two pupils are little Swiss-German girls who live in a suburb outside of Sevilla. I got the gig with the little girls because my German friends work as au pairs for their family and they gave me a very good recommendation.

The tutoring sessions are all quite short and I may only work for a few weeks, but the work is delightful. With Mario, I get to practice my Spanish a bit and I’m learning about architecture because some of his work involves designing country homes for Brits who wish to spend their holidays in southern Spain. Mario learned English many years ago, but he remembers a good bit and he just wants some conversation practice. Can do!

The little ones are spunky (today I tried to teach the 6-year-old “silly” because that is her primary personality trait.) I get to prepare a little lesson for them twice a week and we just have fun. I try to involve acting, singing, dancing, shouting, drawing and lots of “very good!” With young children, it’s fascinating to watch them soak up a language. Their dad is a professional fútbol player, so they’ve lived in Holland, Italy, Switzerland and Spain; this summer they move to Manchester. The younger one defaults to speaking Spanish during lessons, and the 8-year-old defaults to German. I try to stick to English.

Living in Europe, I’ve realized that English is such a vital language for businesspeople, travelers and students. In many parts of Europe, English is a lingua franca because people from places like Denmark or Poland realize that very few people speak their native languages and they need to learn English in order to communicate with the world outside their county’s borders.

By the way, learning how to spell and read in English is freaking hard! Glad I never had to learn how . . . wait . . .

“Sevilla tiene un color especial”

You know you’re at Sevilla’s Feria de Abril if you are: grinning, drinking rebujito, eating pescaito frito, clapping along with Feria songs played on a loudspeaker, watching locals dance Sevillanas and taking photos obsessively.

The 150-year-old Feria de Abril takes place 2 weeks after Semana Santa every year. Little towns all over Andalucía have a spring Feria week as well, but of course the Sevilla Feria is the grandest. And, during the last weekend of the Feria, people from surrounding pueblos descend upon the Sevilla Feria.

You can find Ferris wheels and cotton candy at the fair here, but there are no pie contests, and the only livestock on the fairgrounds are the horses and mules that pull carriages that deliver locals to their casetas. Casetas, which are decorated tents of varying sizes, are the big thing at the Sevilla Feria.

Casetas with fair rides in the background
A caseta with a guard standing outside
People drinking, eating and dancing inside a public caseta

Of the 1,500 casetas at the fair, only 10-15 are public casetas. That’s the thing, every private caseta has a guard standing outside and keeping the riff raff out. Private casetas are paid for by groups of friends, families, hermandades (the groups who do pasos during Semana Santa), the local faction of a political party, rowing clubs, etc., etc. Casetas are quite expensive and the waiting list to get an available caseta is decades long. Like many traditions in Sevilla, Feria is not universally loved by all the locals. Some more erudite Sevillanos may argue that Feria is exclusive because not everyone has a private caseta. However, everyone I saw there - private caseta or not - seemed to be having a ball.

What goes on inside the casetas? Well, Feria is like a classy tailgate that lasts 7 days. The interiors of these casetas are decked out; many casetas have items such as: framed pictures or mirrors on the walls, lace draped over the walls, potted flowers and/or large glowing laterns hung from the ceiling. From about noon each day until dawn the next morning, people go to casetas to drink, eat and dance. The typical drinks of Feria are sherry and rebujito (a refreshing drink made with sherry and 7-Up on ice). Handily, it's impossible to get drunk even if you drink rebujito for many hours. The typical food is pescaito frito (fried fish) and essentially any food that is normally eaten in Sevilla all year.

I was lucky enough to be invited to a private caseta this week. The invite came from a Peruvian architect named Mario who’s lived in Sevilla for many years. He has a caseta with some of his architect friends. I know Mario because he wants me to tutor him in English. I only met with him once – a few days before Feria. But, he graciously called this Wednesday to invite me to his caseta. Brad came with, and the three of us enjoyed a couple hours of drinking rebujito and chatting about Feria traditions. We met a few of Mario’s friends and, at one point, we were all discussing how few public casetas there are . . . one friend joked, “Yeah, gidis almost never see the inside of a private caseta!” (A “gidi” is a Spanish nickname for an embarrassingly stereotypical tourist.) I laughed and said, “Lo se, lo se!” (I know, I know!) And then I thanked Mario for being so kind to invite me.

Dancing is a huge part of Feria. Locals all dance Sevillanas, the name of a beautiful dance that is danced with a partner or in groups of four. The music for Sevillanas has a 3 count and the first beat is emphasized. Most of the songs have lyrics about Sevilla. As Brad said, “This is the music a local far from home would want to listen to if he was homesick for Sevilla.”


Inside a public caseta on Wednesday


We got inside this private caseta because our American friend, Elena, has Sevilla connections

The dance mimics the actions of picking fruit from a tree and putting it into a basket. Many people sing along with the music and some women even play castanets. As a spectator, I was entranced by the dizzying frills and swinging fringe of the women’s’ flamenco dresses and shawls.

On Thursday afternoon

The coolest part of Feria may be the flamenco fashion. Most women, girls and even babies wear flamenco dresses, brightly-colored heels, a shawl with long fringe, elaborate dangly earrings, a color-coordinated comb and huge fake flower – often pinned on the top of the head. Staring at the million colors, dress styles, accessories, and gorgeous Spanish faces gave me a serious case of eye-glut.

On her cell phone on the way to the fairgrounds


And of course the costumed children are so precious! Many moms and their little girls or babies wear color-coordinated flamenco dresses. There's nothing cuter than 5-year-olds dancing Sevillanas in their little Feria outfits.

Sitting in a carriage
Posing for her mama
Riding with his daddy

Flamenco dresses are the only "regional costume" in Spain that still change with the fashion each year. To my ignorant eye, it seemed that white and red were really popular this year – as well as espadrilles. Then again, many of these patterns and colors have been popular for decades. I have no idea when the flower perched atop the head became the trend, but what a bold statement, huh? No one ever said that Sevillanas can’t accessorize!

When I asked these women if I could take a photo, they said, “¡Claro!” (Of course!)

The ladies aren’t the only ones with accessories . . .

The horses at Feria are decked out too!
From noon to 8pm each day, horses pull carriages to deliver people from their homes to the fairgrounds. Many women (riding side saddle) and their escorts ride past the casetas; I’m assuming the purpose is to see and be seen

I posted this obscene number of photos and videos all at once because that’s what Feria is like . . . you are surrounded by hundreds of women in a million colors and styles, dripping with accessories and looking unusually tall in their heels; you also see gorgeous horses trotting by, pulling shiny carriages full of festive people drinking manzanilla (sherry); and you hear loud joyous music from all sides; countless spinning, laughing people are dancing Sevillanas inside and outside of almost every caseta.

¡Ole!

Six. That’s how many bulls are killed during the course of one bullfight. In Spanish matar means to kill; in a bullfight, each matador kills two bulls. Every night, there are three matadores, the rest of the four toreros on each “team,” as well as the picadores, the horses . . . well, a lot of living things are involved in the grotesque/stunning show that is a bullfight.

Bullfighting season in Sevilla began on Easter. Yes, Easter Sunday. The biggest bullfights of the year happen during the April Feria – the fair that begins today and lasts through the weekend. During Feria, tickets to the fights are really expensive because the super famous matadors fight super strong bulls. The season continues through September; we actually saw a few televised bullfights when we first moved to Sevilla. Watching a bullfight on TV is impressive, but it’s nothing compared to being in the seats at the bullring.

Brad and I went to a bullfight Saturday night with a few friends. We were in the section called Sol, a.k.a. the cheap seats. Sol means “sun” – direct sun in your eyes for the entire fight. The pricier tickets are Sombra: “shade.” Luckily our tickets were so cheap that we were seated in the very last row, and the overhang of the stadium kept us in the shade. The ring was packed with men smoking cigars, women waving fans and a few people like us.

At the beginning of the bullfight, all the matadors and teams pay their respects to the president of the bullring (sitting in his box seat)

Each bull gets to experience three grueling phases during the fight that kills them. The first phase involves the whole team of toreros – typically 4 – using large pink and yellow capes to tire out the bull. During this phase, the bull is essentially mad as fire. He charges anything that moves, but the toreros can quickly jump behind the safety of the wooden fence if necessary. (As an aside, my brows were knitted together in horrified fascination throughout the entire process.)

The beading on the toreros’ outfits shows their skill level; black beads are novices, silver beads are next up, and gold beads are matadors – the highest level.

During this phase of the bullfight, a man called the picador, rides into the ring on a blindfolded and completely armored horse. The toreros direct the bull’s attention to the horse, which he inevitably charges angrily, and the picador stabs him in the back with a long spear. He always stabs him twice. The horse is blindfolded because no sane horse would walk towards an angry bull. He is covered in protective padding because the bull tries to gouge the horse’s underbelly with his horns. Bulls are also strong enough to tip over the horse and rider.

A picador next to a torero

The second phase is all about making the bull more exhausted, but undoubtedly angrier as well. Toreros, called banderilleros, take two short spears decorated with colored tissue, and stick them into the bull’s back. They do this by getting the bull’s attention then running at the bull as the bull is charging; they lift the spears over the bull’s horns and jab them into his back, then nimbly leap away before getting killed.

A banderillero trying to get the bull’s attention

Now the bull is tired, bloody and more confused than ever. Some bulls are obviously ready for this unpleasant game to be over and some are still fightin’ mad. (Each bull has its own personality of course.) At this point, the matador appears with his red cape. The matadors we saw on Saturday were highly skilled, so it was not that painful to watch . . . that is, until they gave the final blow.

The crowd tells you what they think of the matador and the bull by clapping (good) or whistling (bad). It’s considered good when the matador gets the bull’s head close to the ground as he charges the cape. It’s also good if the matador gets very close to the bull. Many other subtleties are cheered on by the crowd, but you would need many years of watching bullfights to know what is considered impressive. Oh – and the band plays when they like what the matador is doing.

The crowd is waving white handkerchiefs to show their admiration of the matador

[Warning: The content is about to get a little graphic.]

After a few minutes of this strange dance between a bull and a human, the matador pulls out a small sword. The sword is to be thrust between the bull’s shoulder blades. It doesn’t kill the bull instantly, and with some novice matadors, it takes forever for them to kill the bull (which is very gross.) Typically, within a few minutes, the bull sinks to the ground and then keels over on his side – dead.

Let’s take a moment to think about that.

The bull hardly has time to have one last muscle spasm before they cut off his ear. Yep, if the bull falls to the ground (the goal), and the president of the bullring deems the matador worthy, he gets the bull’s ear – as a prize. If the matador was especially good, the president may decide to give him two ears. And, in rare cases, the matador also gets the tail . . . what a trophy.

From beginning to end, the process lasts about 20 minutes for each bull. After the ear has been sawed off by one of the toreros, the (good) matadors take a turn around the ring, basking in the applause and their own manhood. Sometimes women throw panties into the ring when the matador passes by. I’m kidding; people don’t throw undergarments, but often shawls or flags or a box of wine or something. Meanwhile, the lifeless body of the bull is dragged out of the ring by three horses adorned in red and white tassels.

And before you can ask the Sevillana woman sitting next to you what the matador does with the bull’s ear, the next bull charges into the ring.

Siete meses en España

Things I’ve learned:

· What the train on a flamenco dress is called (bata de cola)
· What raw quail egg tastes like
· Which bus takes me to Bormujos
· How to say things like, “It was a hot day when I moved to New Orleans.”
· Why the doors of churches are so big here
· Semana Santa melodies
· We can continue our tradition of having Easter dinner with friends – even when abroad
Stefi, Brad and Christina holding up their spoils after our Easter egg hunt
· I’m too old to stay out all night 2 nights in a row
· What real paella tastes like
· How to make tinto de verano
· The name of our favorite waiter at our local bar
· Where to go for a taco in Sevilla
· How much I love our neighborhood
· A wide variety of Spanish curse words
· Spain’s budget airline seriously gives you no leg room
· Sevillanos don’t leave the house when it rains
· How to get from Plaza de la Incarnación to the Alameda – in the dark
· Where you can get coffee for under 1 €
At this little plaza
· Brad is cute when he argues with Spaniards
· I’m really bad at arguing with Spaniards
· Some Sevillano taxi drivers unabashedly dance, sing and clap along with songs on their radios – when no one else is in the taxi
· How to make a good chicken marinade that involves Fanta
· Saying “que bien!” repeatedly throughout a conversation disguises my poor Spanish skills . . . or does it?
· When the summer heat arrives in Sevilla: April 3
· What to expect at the Sevilla Feria de Primavera (Spring Fair) next week!