Ella no habla español

Quatro Estaciónes en España

2008-06-16T13:45:00.003+02:00

Things I've Learned:

Como hablar español

To greet anyone I know with a kiss on both cheeks

All my plans for this year were wildly unrealistic – except for the one about spending lots of time in cafés reading novels

Spaniards look great in earth tones

I love it when Spanish speakers correct my Spanish; it means they think I’m worth it

Brad’s stove-top biscuits and cornbread are delicious

The meaning of “Tengo ganas de . . .”

Mayonnaise comes from Spain – specifically Mallorca

Our pull-out love seat is universally detested among our houseguests

What it’s like to have 14 visitors in 9 months

How to make gazpacho

How to pack

The best gelato in Sevilla in on Calle Zaragoza

It can be hilarious when things are lost in translation

Excessive socializing with archival researchers takes me to a dark place

Something about European futbol

Exactly wherefrom Columbus set sail in 1492

Some fads from the U.S., circa 1990, (Chupa Chups, mullets, rollerblades) are inexplicably popular in Spain today

How to correctly identify coquinas, almejas, mejiones, chocos, boquerones and chipirones (all seafood)

How to correctly identify the color albero

The rain in Spain does not, in fact, fall mainly on the plain

Sevilla is just a big small town

Wherever you go, God is already there

How far a smile can get you . . . in any language

I’m married to my perfect traveling partner

Now that the time has come, we’re ready to get back to the land of: amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesties, the dollar, my paycheck, barbecue, burgers, our oven, our church, the English language and the people most important to us in the world

******************************************

Dear Readers,

Your interest, support and prayers have meant so much to Brad and me during this time abroad. Writing for the blog has been a wonderful way for us to reflect, remember, release and reach out. I’m sure some things I’ve written have been incorrect and/or inappropriate, but that was a given. Thank you for pardoning me and/or laughing at me.

This post will be the last one (on this blog anyway) because we are leaving Sevilla early Wednesday morning. We look forward to seeing many of you in the weeks to come. God bless and happy trails!

Dos besos,
Neely

Últimos Días

2008-06-10T10:06:00.007+02:00

When Evelyn finally got to our apartment on Saturday, she jokingly asked, “So, am I like the 15th person to visit you this year?” I said, “No, the 14th.” We’ve had a constant flow of company this year, and it’s wonderful to have my childhood best friend as our last houseguest in Sevilla.

With Evelyn at the Alcázar

I’ve been looking forward to Evelyn’s visit for months. She’s an extremely experienced traveler and has boundless energy. Even though – due to flight cancellations and weather – she arrived in Sevilla 30 hours later than she’d planned, she looked cute and was ready to sightsee.

After our high school graduation, Evelyn and I took an unforgettable trip through Europe with two dear friends, Callie and Sarah. This time around, Evelyn is in Europe after graduating from NYU business school. Three of her fellow MBAs from school met up with her in Sevilla (the first stop on her marathon Euro vacation). Brad and I try not to look puzzled when the four of them start discussing finance, consulting or boroughs in "the city," aka New York.

Aval, Nelson, Evelyn, Andrea

We have introduced Evelyn to the joys of life in Sevilla: riding bikes, picnicking by the river, tinto de verano, having tapas outside in little plazas . . . During her time in Sevilla, Ev and her crew are visiting the important sights in the city, and they’re taking day trips to Granada and Córdoba – must dos if you’re in Andalucía.

Meanwhile, we’re processing the complex emotions that come with our move back to the U.S. To be honest, I don’t know if Brad has so many complex emotions – mainly he feels happy about getting back to chicken wings and barbeque. As for me, though, I feel very strange about leaving. “Bittersweet” doesn’t really capture the feeling. Last night I told a little old lady with heavy shopping bags where to find a taxi, and I felt so sad that I soon won’t be able to give little old ladies directions in Spanish.

Tonight my German friends, Christina and Stefi, are having their going-away party at their apartment. (Stefi requested that I bring “stuffed eggs” – she loved my deviled eggs at Easter.) They leave Sevilla this weekend. I’m glad we don’t leave long after they do because I would miss them so.

Brad is finishing up his research at the archive. He took some photos at the morning coffee break yesterday. We’ve really enjoyed our time with some of the other researchers and we want to remember them. Brad was especially excited to get a photo of the woman who makes his coffee every morning. He often (unselfishly) orders coffees and toasts for the whole archive crowd, and waits for everyone's order at the counter. He’s seen this cafe woman practically every weekday since September, but she didn’t break down and start smiling at him until recently. According to Brad, she only smiles at him and scowls at everyone else. What can I say? He’s a charmer.

He doesn't even know her name, but they have a special connection

Juanjo and Tien (with her tostada)Anele, Michael, Christen and Justin

We leave in a week. We’ve already shipped a few boxes back, we donated books and clothes, we’ll force our Spain and Europe guidebooks on Evelyn, and we’ll pray that the rest of our junk can fit into our five suitcases. In preparation to say, “adios,” I’m strolling down my favorite streets and through my favorite neighborhoods. I’m also eating buckets of fresh gazpacho and piles of fried fish.

Ya Es Verano

2008-06-03T17:29:00.005+02:00

The heat has arrived in Sevilla and the days are very long. Last night the sun set around 9:30. Sevillanos don’t sup until 10 or later, so the timing feels just right. The siesta is a necessity during the summer in southern Spain. In the street, the quietest time of day is from 3-5 because everyone is resting in their homes – made with high ceilings, marble floors and central courtyards – all of which aid in cooling the building. When you walk past the open door of a building with any interior courtyard, you pass through a refreshing whoosh of cool air.

Since I’m a Haus Frau, but I don’t want to run errands in the afternoon, I went out this morning. After getting my usual 2nd breakfast: un media tostada con tomate y aceite y un manchado, at Bar Rodrigo, I headed for the closest bike station. On my way, I gave a sweet nun directions to Jesus del Gran Poder, a church in our neighborhood. Giving directions to little old Spanish ladies is always a pleasure.

I have a bike card from a friend of ours who spent time in the archive here. He entrusted his bike card to me once he left Sevilla. With a card, I can take a bike from any station in the city and deposit it in any other station, and the first 30 minutes are free. I’ve taken to riding a bike to the bus station, or up the river towards the cathedral, or to the Triana bridge when I go to the Triana market.

This morning, I went to the Triana market for coquinas, tiny clams that are popular in these parts. I picked one of the many fresh seafood stalls and waited in line. The seafood at the market is pretty impressive; there are huge, dense tuna fillets, tiny crabs, slowly wiggling in the netting of a bag, milky white squid whose tentacles hang over the counters and small prickly conch shells.

When my turn came, I told the fishmonger that I wanted coquinas para dos personas. While he weighed and bagged my order, an older man walked up, and began chatting jovially with him. The old man nonchalantly selected one of the tiny coquinas from the counter in front of me, picked it up, pried it open and ate the clam inside. He contentedly announced, “Those coquinas are quite delicious and fresh!” I smiled to myself and gave the fishmonger 3 euros.

Ingredients: coquinas, olive oil, salt, white wine, parsley and an obscene amount of garlic

El Itenerario Verde

2008-06-01T13:54:00.009+02:00

“Extremely Tough” is a rough translation of Extremadura, the autonomous community in Spain through which Brad and I traveled this weekend. Extremadura is not a barren hard place as its name might suggest. Much of the area (directly north of Andalucía) undulates between hilly pastures populated with happy-looking livestock and lush mountains covered in graceful trees and cheerful wildflowers. Extremadura is not a big tourist destination and you’re hard-pressed to find anything bigger than villages . . . that’s why we went.

Fifty years ago, Life Magazine did a piece on Extremadura. At that time, in the middle of the Franco regime, Extremadura was poor, with conditions bordering on third-world. If strangers entered a town, inhabitants would fearfully disappear into their houses. The descriptive photographs that showed up in Life were deeply embarrassing to the Spanish government, and they began serious efforts to improve conditions in Extremadura. Today, inhabitants still look at you when you drive through the tiny farming villages, but only because they’re puzzled as to why you’re there.

We rented a car to explore Extremadura because many areas are practically inaccessible by bus or train. Driving through tranquil pasture land and over mountains was splendid. We were usually the only car on the road and we could stop whenever we wanted to take photos of cows, sheep or pigs grazing. (Call me a city girl, but roaming livestock and rolling hills delight me.)

Pigs eating bellotas, or acorns, under squatty Spanish oak trees. Acorn-fed black pigs like these become jamón ibérico – famous Spanish cured ham. These pigs are only raised in Extremadura and Andalucía.

We spent one night in Trujillo, home of Francisco Pizarro. Pizarro sent back lots of his silver money once he’d made a mess in Peru, and built mansions for himself and his family members there. Not much has changed in Trujillo since then (500 years ago). Trujillo is very rocky and hilly; oddly, it reminded us very much of Siena in Tuscany. In a word, it’s understated.

Plaza Mayor, the center of town. The statue is of Pizarro.

Trujillo is also full of storks and swallows. Extremadura is known for its bird wildlife. In any city or town, you see dozens of large stork nests perched on top of the highest buildings. The tops of steeples are especially good real estate if you’re a stork.

A stork nest

After a drive from Trujillo, through the pastures, into the mountains, you’re in vulture country. Rare species of carrion-eating birds live in the national park, Monfragüe, in northeast Extremadura. Spring is a wonderful time to visit Extremadura because it’s filled with blooming flora and baby animals – calves, lambs and piglets! (Baby vultures aren’t as cute so I didn’t really look for any.) Anyway, hiking in Parque Monfragüe was definitely on our itinerary.

We parked at the outpost near the park, bought a couple sandwiches and set off. We took the Itenerario Verde, a trail lined with bright wildflowers that took us over streams, past fields and up a mountain for a view of the river and a 9th century Moorish castle on the opposite mountaintop. I was taught that picnicking on a rock in the middle of stream – without any sound of cars, machinery or people – is the nicest way you’ll ever dine. It's true. Throughout our day in Monfragüe, the phrase, “all creation proclaims God’s glory,” kept popping into my head.

After our hike, we drove our way down the mountains, through more pastures, over streams, up other mountains and arrived in the hamlet of Guadalupe. Guadalupe is nestled in the Sierra Viejas, and a view from above shows you that the center of the town is dominated by the stone structures of the 14th century monastery and church and the 15th century hospital. The hospital has been turned into a state-run Parador – a fancy old building of historic significance in an out-of-the-way place – and we spent the night there.

Guadalupe, with the monastery on the right and mountains in the background

Guadalupe is so beautiful. Brad noted that it could be an Alpine village because it is surrounded by high, lush mountains. When we arrived, we were a bit grungy from our hike and a bit road-weary from the mountainous drive, but we headed towards the monastery. Guadalupe is famous for the Virgin of Guadalupe, who lives at the Franciscan monastery. She is an authentic 13th century Black Madonna (painted black).

By the way, a Virgin by same name is extremely important to Mexican Catholics. That Virgin of Guadalupe appeared to an indigenous Mexican. The shrine for her in Mexico City is behemoth and it was utterly packed when we visited it years ago. The Virgin in Extremadura, however, made her appearance before the one in Mexico.

View from the courtyard in the monastery

The last guided tour of the monastery had already left by the time we got there, but they allowed us to join up with the group. We were taken through a huge hall where the monks dress for mass – it’s filled with paintings by Zurbaran. Then to a circular room with a multitude of treasures on display. Everything in the room – from the intricate crown covered with diamonds, to the embroidered and beaded capes, to the massive Murano glass chandelier from Venice – was a gift to the Virgin. Our tour also went up to the choir loft in the back of the church – even though a wedding was taking place. We got up to the large loft just as the soloist, accompanied by a friar on the organ, began to sing Panis Angelicus. Below, we could see the wedding guests receiving the sacrament.

At the end of the tour, our group was left in the care of a real Franciscan friar. He was to take us to see the Virgin. He led us up a wide stairway to a fancy anteroom. He told us about the Baroque paintings and sculptures in the room – all of which depicted strong women from the Bible. He then led the group in reciting the Hail Mary before he unlocked the doors to reveal the Virgin.

The Virgin was very striking because her small black face and hands are the only parts of her body that are visible. The rest of her was covered in a hot pink head covering and cape. Brad and I couldn’t get too close because the friar stood next to her and invited the group to kiss the Virgin’s cloak and pay her homage. I didn’t have any specific requests to ask of the Virgin, so I hung back.

Before our group had cleared out, the mother of the bride and the bride herself had come up to pay the Virgin their respects. The mother was wearing a lovely blue outfit and, in her hair, she had a comb covered in black lace that hung down her back. Worn with a black dress, this comb called a mantilla is the mourning dress worn by women during Semana Santa. The mantilla is also worn at very formal occasions.

The mother of the bride leaving the church
A photo of the Virgin in one of her other outfits

We watched the wedding guests disperse, and then walked around the monastery to have a drink at the bar inside. The atmosphere at the monastery was a bit too serious to really enjoy a glass of wine (the Jesuits are better than the Franciscans when it comes to having a drink and a good time.) To complete our evening, we dined at the Parador where we were staying. The food was unbelievably good. Brad had duck. I had pork with cheese sauce – every bit as decadent as it sounds. And we had cava to drink; it seemed that we should celebrate having such a wonderful time on our last excursion out of Sevilla.

As an added treat on our way back home, we drove through Miajadas, the self-proclaimed “European Tomato Capital.” We didn’t have time to sample any tomatoes, but we got a great view of the tomato water tower on our way out of town. Since I also come from a region where giant water towers are shaped like prized fruits, it was a special moment for me.

Una Barbaridad

2008-05-25T12:31:00.003+02:00

Recently, Brad and I joined some archive peeps for tapas. The majority of the crowd were native Spanish speakers, and the majority typically decides the language everyone will be using at the gathering. I enjoyed catching up with Consoli, a sweet girl from the Basque country who just got back from 3 months in Cuba. Then, I talked with Magdalena for a bit – she’s a nut. At the end of the night, Magdalena told me my Spanish had grown una barbaridad or “a barbarity.” I’d never heard that wonderfully descriptive word before, but I assumed (correctly) that it was a compliment.

Although my Spanish still needs LOTS of work, I can converse for hours in Spanish now. The conversation is stilted and, at times, frustrating for me and whoever is listening, but I can even be funny in my more inspired moments. Being able to converse in Spanish was my main goal for this year abroad. It’s unbelievably rewarding.

Yesterday, we came full circle, so to speak, by having a long lunch with the Camprubis at their beautiful home. When we first arrived to Sevilla 8 months ago, we stayed with the Camprubis; and their son/our friend, Lino, helped us find our apartment, set up bank accounts, etc. It was delightful to see them again – this time, being able to speak Spanish. Now, both Brad and I also know many expressions and terms that are unique to Spain or unique to Sevilla. For lunch, Carmen made a huge pan of delicious arroz negro: rice and seafood, flavored (and colored) with black squid ink. For dessert, we all tried nisperos, a sweet fruit that was growing on one of the trees in their garden.

Acabando la beca

2008-05-21T18:15:00.010+02:00

So I have less than 4 weeks left at the archive. I feel like this is a good time to stop and reflect on what’s gone on here at the AGI this year.

First of all, a small miracle occurred in the archive last week: I actually had the urge to write my dissertation. That is nothing to laugh at. I put the urge to good use and, in the middle of the archive, began outlining chapters of the dissertation. I have no doubt that this rough outline will change drastically over the next year or so, but it’s a good start, I think. I’m pretty excited about it.

The reason that I can actually write an outline now is due, in large part, to the stuff that I’ve found here. Some of it is very good.

There are very showy things, like a painted tribute record from 1543. The tribute is recorded in a preconquest pictorial style with the names of the towns written glyphically down at the bottom (that’s “Place of the Sweat Bath” on the right, by the way). The preconquest indians from central Mexico were way too cool for boring old letters and numbers.

Then, too, there are less showy—but no less interesting—things. Like how the Texcoco royal family tree started to seriously turn back in on itself by the 1590s, or how farms were exploited for profit over the course of the sixteenth century, or how Spaniards dramatically altered the way that indians conceived of land and space. The point is that I think I’m starting to see things.

As an added bonus, I’ve had a couple of ideas for future projects. It may seem a bit premature to be thinking of future projects when I haven’t even finished this one, but I will likely be asked to talk about my future research plans during job interviews, so it’s good to have a few ideas already in mind. Here in Seville, I had two. The first was to do a study of the environmental impact of colonialism in central Mexico. In documents that I look at now, I’m always seeing ways that the Spaniards have changed Mexico with their crops, mills, irrigation ditches, livestock, etc. (And Al Gore has made environmental issues so trendy these days!) The second idea was to do a study of the Salazar family of Mexico City. This family comes up in many of the documents that I’ve found, and they all seem to be very mean, nasty people. Sounds fun to me.

Anyway, that’s how’s it’s winding down. I’ve got a couple more judicial cases (very long cases) that I’m working to finish up, but that’s about all that I feel like I really must see before I leave. I’m feeling good about it.

La Niña, La Pinta y La Santa Maria

2008-05-16T12:32:00.004+02:00

In keeping with my trend of bizarre experiences in Spain, I was treated to a day in Huelva by Mario, my tutee. He drives to Huelva weekly for work. There’s not much to see there, but he said he wanted to show me “los barcitos,” the to-scale reconstructions of the boats in which Columbus sailed to America.

Although he definitely spent too much money on a fancy lunch for me, the local seafood is amazing, and I was excited to see the barcitos afterwards. First we toured a small monastery called La Rábida (pretty sure that translates to “The Rabid”), where Columbus stayed in the days before he set sail on his fateful voyage. Then we walked down to the harbor below to clamber around on the 3 boats. They are unbelievably tiny. In 1992, on the 500-year anniversary of the discovery of the Americas, Spain sailed those 3 boats to Hispañola, along the same course that Columbus took. But with modern navigation tools.

When I got home, Brad informed me that the scale of the boats is all wrong. He knows a naval historian who explained the inaccuracies to him one time. Why am I not surprised? He also told me that La Pinta essentially means “The Whore.” Isn’t there an old sailor’s superstition about how every discovery expedition has to have a slutty boat . . .?

El Rocio

2008-05-11T10:57:00.003+02:00

Rocio is a popular girl’s name in Sevilla. Typically, names ending in “o” are male names. (Female names end in “a.”) Rocio is a girl’s name because “El Rocio” is a manifestation of the Virgin. Hundreds of years ago, a hunter found a statue of the Virgin in a tree trunk near the village of El Rocio, which is near Doñana, the wildlife refuge that extends to the Atlantic coast. In the days before Pentecost, people from all over Andalucía take the pilgrimage to El Rocio.

The church of El Rocio in Huelva. We saw this church on our way to and from the beach last week. It sits on the edge of a beautiful marsh.

A couple of Sevilla hermandades (brotherhoods) begin the pilgrimage together – leaving from their churches in the city. My friend, Mario, called to give me a heads up about one of the brotherhoods that was going through our neighborhood. I saw the Macarena hermandad go through on their way to El Rocio. Later I walked through Los Remedios to see the San Salvador hermandad leaving the city. (I walked so far I felt like I’d completed half the pilgrimage myself.)

The processions out of Sevilla look similar to the pasos of Semana Santa, but everyone wears what looks like their Feria costumes. Mario informed me that it’s actually special garb just for the Rocio pilgrimage. Women wear a skirt and top – unlike the one-piece Feria dress – and the skirt is roomy for walking over terrain. Many also wear boots and a small leather purse around the waist – for trail mix, I assume. It was odd to see all the women in cheerful flamenco-looking dresses taking a religious pilgrimage. Not surprisingly, going to Rocio involves lots of drinking, eating and general merry-making.

The procession of people, animals and carts to Rocio includes: many people on foot, a cart on wheels with an image of the Virgin, and horses, donkeys, oxen and vehicles pulling mini covered wagons with people inside. People essentially camp out in these wagons (it’s about 60 miles to El Rocio), so they are stocked with plenty of refreshments and comforts.

As I watched this strange procession move down the street in Sevilla, I turned to the woman next to me to ask what the mini covered wagons were. She assumed I was asking about the whole shebang, so she began telling me about hermandades, etc. I wanted to hear her explanation, so I just listened. She began to talk about Rocio, the Virgin, and I could tell she was a practicing Catholic. She told me that some people go to El Rocio to ask forgiveness for their sins. She said, “If you have any troubles in your life, you can go her and she will help you.” She said she has 3 kids and 6 grandkids and she’s 73-years-old, so Rocio has kept her and her family kept her healthy and protected. When I looked in her eyes, I could see she was completely sincere; she was telling me all this out of compassion. That was the first time I’ve had a conversation with a Spaniard about her tangible faith.

The Virgin of El Rocio

Un paseo

2008-05-08T17:28:00.004+02:00

I’m feeling sentimental because we only have a few more weeks in Sevilla. (Indulge me, if you will.) I will miss the random sights, smells and scenes from the street. We spend lots of time “en la calle” and it’s a great cultural adventure every day.

Calle Mendoza Rios

Strolling home after some early evening shopping on Tetuan . . .

I turn onto the small pedestrian way, Calle San Eloy, to avoid the crowded sidewalk along Alfonso XII. It’s about 9 p.m., and most stores are just closing on San Eloy. Two chattering women come out of a tiny shoe store and pull down the metal grate – painted pink – in front of the glass door. A college-age foursome (3 girls, 1 guy) walks towards me and I just catch the end of the guy’s question; he’s Spanish. One of the girls with him, wearing a short stylish dress, answers deliberately with a grating American accent, “Tengo un examen mañana.” I roll my eyes.

The two short older ladies to my right are supporting each other as they walk; the shorter one uses a cane. Across the way, an old friend spots them and immediately begins yelling and smiling. Walking over to her friends, she proclaims, “¡Oy-yoy-yoy! ¡Que guapa!” As I turn down Calle Monsalves, I see little clusters of neighbors and friends talking and nibbling tapas at a bar. The Plaza del Museo has its usual unhurried activity as I pass through. Someone’s dog is sniffing along the shrubbery. Throughout the plaza, periwinkle-colored jacaranda blossoms lie on the ground.

I walk two blocks up Alfonso XII to Calle Redes – I haven’t turned down this pretty street in a while. The sunlight down the street is dusky; a warm breeze is coming from somewhere – the river? Just as I pass the large doorway into an interior courtyard, I hear a door inside close and a handful of voices begin to sing “Cumpleaños Feliz” to the tune of “Happy Birthday.” The pitch is shaky, but I can hear big smiles in their voices.

Looking into the open door of our local bar, Abacería Baños, I see that Pedro is not working tonight. I smile at the guy behind the bar – he was really nice the last time we were there. I hear a saxophonist practicing scales at the music conservatory across the street. The practice room window must be open. When I’m just half a block from our apartment, I see a cute girl my age hurrying down Baños. I quickly recognize her as one of my intercambio partners from months ago and I remember that she lives in my neighborhood. When we met for our intercambio, she taught me so much about Semana Santa and Feria traditions.

And now I’m home – it’s 9:30 and still light.

¿Como se dice “sunburned”?

2008-05-05T10:07:00.005+02:00

Along with the inevitable hoards of 18-to-22-year-olds, we elbowed our way onto one of the buses heading to a beach called Matalascañas. Thursday was Fiesta del Trabajo (Labor Day) and the closest beach from Sevilla is only an hour away. It’s a no-brainer. (The bus ride actually took two and a half hours that day.)

On the way to the beach, you get to see oleander and other pretties blooming along the road

Matalascañas is a crowded public beach on the Atlantic. But, if you walk up the beach for a while, the crowds disappear and you get to the edge of Doñana, a huge wildlife preserve (the biggest in Europe). Brad and I spent Fiesta del Trabajo with two other researchers from the archive. We took a walk up the beach with Elena and enjoyed the quiet near the wildlife preserve. We also saw several people digging in the sand at the edge of the water, and depositing tiny shells in bags and bottles. They were collecting coquinos – little clams that taste delicious cooked with lots of garlic and olive oil.

My sunburn? That didn’t happen until yesterday. We went back to Matalascañas with our German friends, Christina and Stefi (in their car). Since they’re German, they are professional beach-goers. Southern Spain is extremely popular with their kind – we actually ran into 5 of their German friends at the beach. The Atlantic I grew up going to is bath-water warm in the summer; the Atlantic in southern Spain is freezing all summer long. But, to Christina the water was refreshing and she went swimming throughout the day.

I have to go now . . . and treat my burns. Don’t worry, I’ve done this countless times.

¿Parles català?

2008-04-27T18:39:00.012+02:00

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

2008-04-21T21:39:00.003+02:00

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

2008-04-17T22:09:00.004+02:00

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”

2008-04-12T19:25:00.018+02:00

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!

2008-04-07T10:11:00.004+02:00

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

2008-04-04T10:09:00.005+02:00

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!

Quiero un zumo de naranja

2008-03-31T10:28:00.005+02:00

Valencia is officially the 3rd-largest city in Spain, but with less than a million people, it’s only a tiny bit bigger than Sevilla. The “autonomous community” of Valencia is in eastern Spain on the Mediterranean. Valencia is famous for paella and oranges. Its capital, Valencia, is a fabulous mixture of old and new, and we had a great time there.

In the Plaza de la Reina

Downtown Valencia

Brad’s grant organization hosted a 3-day conference/retreat in Valencia last week – almost all expenses paid. I tagged along of course! Of all the diverse autonomous communities (which are comparable to states) in Spain, I’ve really only explored the centrally-located Comunidad de Madrid and environs and, of course, Andalucía, where Sevilla is the capital. Anyone who’s traveled around Spain will tell you that each autonomous community is quite distinct – the food, the people, the history, the geography, climate, music and the mentality.

In our short time in Valencia, I found that most people were quite friendly. A few locals even struck up conversations with me, asking if I’m vacationing, recommending spots to visit, etc. This never happens to me in Sevilla when I’m talking to strangers. I got to explore Valencia on my own for our first couple of days because poor Brad was in sessions all day. Exploring a new city alone = pure joy.

And what a change this visit was compared to my days alone in Madrid when we first arrived to Spain. When I was packing for Valencia, I didn’t even consider packing my English-Spanish dictionary. How liberating to strike out in a Spanish city, and know that I can get myself around just fine. Even if I didn’t know a specific word in Spanish, I knew how to ask a local for an explanation, and I knew that I’d understand.

The accent in Valencia is also soooo much clearer than the Andalucían accent that I often struggle to understand down here. Some Valencianos speak Valenciana, one of the 5 or 6 regional languages in Spain – other than “castellano” (or Spanish as we know it). Valenciana is mostly spoken in the little pueblos outside of the capital, so I only had to speak what I already know.

The facade of the Ajuntament (City Hall); the bat is a symbol of Valencia

During my time in Valencia, I toured the cathedral, saw the old silk exchange and the markets, went to the beach (my first time on the Mediterranean!), saw the fine arts museum, strolled through the parks and shopped. Brad got to do some of those things, but, not surprisingly, he was expected to attend most of the sessions for the scholars. I think we’ll both remember the beautiful architecture downtown, Agua de Valencia, obscene gothic stone carvings at the Lonja, the giant Gulliver playground, mini fried squid, a delectable chunk of local pumpkin cake and the best kebab sandwich ever made (most delicious when consumed at 2:30 am).

Cathedral, home to the Holy Grail. Allegedly Jesus' cup from the Last Supper is inside one of the chapels here. The cup I saw is pretty blinged out, but my audioguide made a good argument for why it’s truly the Holy Grail. Who knows?
Museu de Belles Arts (Museum of Fine Arts), viewed from across the Turia. The Turia is the old riverbed that curves through the middle of the city. After they diverted the Turia River in the 1960s, they made the riverbed into a beautiful landscaped park – complete with running paths, numerous playgrounds and the City of Arts and Sciences.
Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències (City of Arts and Sciences); home to a performing arts center, aquarium and more; only about 10 years old.
Detail on the Mercado Colón (Columbus Market)

At night, we got to hang out with some cool people – among them was: the Spanish guy who directs the program in Andorra (teeny country sandwiched between Spain and France), the three people who have the grant to pursue their MBAs in Madrid, a mother of two from California who studies the Sierra Nevada in Granada and the Sierra Nevada in California (she made me promise to be a high school guidance counselor), a really nice guy who researches fluid dynamics in Barcelona, a girl from Michigan who teaches English in Madrid and dates a Spaniard, a crazy dude who can drink Spanish cider by pouring it down his face and catching it in his mouth, etc., etc.

It’s cool to be surrounded by smarties, even if some are socially awkward. There are always a few fun people in the crowd, who you can learn from and laugh with – they’re people who you feel like you’ll see again some day and be glad.

"Tus dolores son mis penas"

2008-03-25T14:01:00.005+01:00

Over the course of Semana Santa, Brad and I saw 16 pasos. We were paso experts by the end of the week. Some people try to stake out a spot near the main route to the cathedral – this way they can see every paso on its way to the cathedral. I say “near” the main route because you have to spend hundreds of Euros to get on the actual route. Every paso goes down La Carrera Oficial (the official path), which includes several blocks and a couple of big plazas leading to the cathedral. To sit along the Carrera Oficial, however, you must pay to get one of the chairs or bleacher seats set up by the city.

Plaza de San Francisco filled with bleachers

But who wants to sit in the same spot and watch paso after paso all night? Brad and I walked all over central Sevilla to watch the pasos exit the neighborhood churches. And, sure enough, we were squeezed into plazas and streets with hundreds of other Sevillanos and about zero tourists. It was so cool to watch glimmering pasos come out of the nearby churches that we’ve passed by for months and the churches where we’ve gone to mass.

Detail of a paso

One really special neighborhood paso was El Gran Poder (The Great Power.) This paso happens to be during the Madrugá and it is very famous. To get a good spot, we got to Plaza San Lorenzo at midnight and stood outside waiting for 2 hours. Just before the paso left the church at 2 am, all the street lights in the plaza were turned off. The crowd hushed. Then the Cristo paso slowly emerged from the church in complete darkness. All you could see were the red candles glowing inside the huge lanterns on the paso. All you could hear was the heart-wrenching saeta a woman on a balcony. It was definitely one of the spine-tingling moments of Semana Santa.

El Silencio (The Silence), the oldest hermandad in Sevilla, also has its paso during the Madrugá. This hermandad is based at one of my favorite churches in our neighborhood, and we actually went there for a beautiful Easter service. While waiting on El Silencio to pass, we were trying to keep warm (it was 4:30 am by this point) and we were satisfying our hunger with some candy and a chorizo sandwich.

Luckily for us, the most popular – and largest, with 2500 Nazarenos – paso, La Macarena, passed by the street where we were waiting. The Virgin of La Macarena is essentially a rock star in Sevilla. Every tiny crusty little bar in the city has a huge framed photo of her tear-stained face. Just as the Virgin passed by, the women on a balcony above the street threw a huge basket of rose petals onto her palio. Thousands of white rose petals showered the Virgin’s paso as it swayed down the dark street. What a stunning display of veneration.

Staying awake for El Silencio was totally worth it. This hermandad had the most dignified and reverent paso we saw that week. The Nazarenos and Penitentes wore all black robes and hoods, and kept silent throughout the paso. Their symbol, a Jerusalem cross, was on every silver staff, candle and wooden cross. The only music at this paso was from a lovely woodwind trio that occasionally played a short mournful melody. The Virgin paso in El Silencio was extraordinarily beautiful. On the underneath side of the canopy on the paso, was a beautiful embroidered design, and little tassels and silver balls hung down from the edges of the canopy. To the right and left of the Virgin, silver urns mounted on the paso were filled with sweet peas.

The cross of El Silencio

Not every paso was as moving and reverent as those during the Madrugá. Some of the gypsy Triana pasos were a bit tacky. Even Sevilla has rednecks. During some pasos, you saw things like a hooded Nazareno walking with his girlfriend, who was wearing red patent leather heels and tight low-rider white jeans and smoking a cigarette. Sick. Some of the more rag-tag pasos had lots of random people in street clothes chatting with the members of the hermandad who are supposed to by anonymous. The first paso we saw (on Palm Sunday) was full of teenagers and their annoying friends there to watch. However, at that paso, we saw a woman sing a saeta to the crucified Cristo and I thought it was the most Sevillano thing I’d ever experienced.

La Estrella, A Nazareno carrying the cruz de guia

Another super cool tradition during Semana Santa is women wearing mantillas! A mantilla is a long piece of black lace that goes over a comb in the woman’s hair and down her back. Any woman who wears a mantilla wears a knee-length black dress, black stockings and black heels. Nice jewelry and black lace gloves are typical accessories. The outfit is worn only on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday because these are mourning clothes. You also see many men in dark suits on Thursday and Friday of Semana Santa.

Women wearing mantillas

You may be wondering what happens if it rains during Semana Santa. Well, it rained this year – on Holy Wednesday. It was a sad day in little churches all over the city. If there is even the threat of rain, pasos cannot go out because the platforms would be ruined. All nine pasos on Wednesday were cancelled. The news coverage of hermandades waiting inside churches showed countless grown men crying as well as many women and children.

The hermandades prepare for this all year – the band, the costaleros, the Nazarenos and Penitentes. They can’t reschedule the paso for another day because there is a strict schedule kept at the cathedral and every day of the week there are several pasos. If a paso is late in arriving at the cathedral on its day, the hermandad is fined. I’ve never seen Sevillanos being as punctual as they are during Semana Santa.

A child dressed to walk (or be carried) in a paso

Overall, Semana Santa was a week that fully engaged all of my senses. After that first bewildering paso, I thought, “This is interesting, but it has no connection to my faith whatsoever.” By the end of the week, I started to get it, and I was brought to tears with one of the haunting songs played by a brass band during Santo Entierro. Some people say Sevillanos are idol-worshippers, but I appreciate their rich religious tradition of Semana Santa. I think my Sevillano friend explained it best, he said that Catholics focus on the suffering of Holy Week, whereas Protestants focus on the resurrection.

On Holy Saturday, the Pietà

Sure enough, during our Easter Service, the Cristo and Virgin pasos were situated just behind the altar. All the candles on the pasos were lit and the images were still breathtaking, but the carved face of Mary was still weeping even though Jesus had risen.

Semana Santa

2008-03-24T13:56:00.014+01:00

During the past 7 days, Semana Santa thundered, blazed, crept and wailed through Sevilla. Semana Santa traditions are hundreds of years old, and Sevilla cherishes the traditions more than any other place in Spain. Thousands of Sevillanos participate in the processions through the streets and thousands more are there to photograph, stare, cheer, sing and mourn.

A paso with the Giralda of the cathedral in the background

During one of the processions (or pasos), a family from Charleston happened to stand behind Brad and me; at one point, the kid asked, “Why are there so many people here?” They were Southern Baptist and a bit unclear on why Semana Santa in Sevilla is such a big deal. I’m sure the average American has no idea what happens during this incredible week – I sure didn’t. (Of course, the average American doesn’t spend thousands of dollars to stay in Sevilla during the most expensive week of the year . . . but that’s another issue.) I want to explain exactly what happens during Semana Santa. Warning: I’m a complete outsider, so some of my info will be inaccurate.

~Terms~

Autos Sacramentales: public religious demonstrations performed by laypeople with the blessing of the Roman Catholic Church
Semana Santa: “Holy Week” – the week from Palm Sunday to Easter when numerous autos sacramentales occur in Spain
- Andalucía (in southern Spain) observes Semana Santa with way more demonstrations than the rest of Spain; some cities may just have one procession all week – Sevilla has the biggest Semana Santa by far
Paso: “passage” – the “procession” or “parade” so to speak, as well as the actual platforms that are carried in the procession
- each procession has 1 to 3 pasos (some pasos are centuries-old)
- the paso/procession goes from its church (the salida) to the Sevilla cathedral and back to the church (the entrada) – this always takes a few hours, for example: a paso may leave its church in Triana (across the river) at 2:15 am, and get back to its church after noon.
El Misterio: “The Mystery” – a paso with a depiction of one of the mysteries of the passion
- often the first paso
- these pasos are super cool because it’s like a moving, gilded Bible story

The “Misterio” of Montesión depicts Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.
“. . . He went to the Mount of Olives, . . . and His disciples also followed him. When He came to the place, He said to them, ‘Pray that you may not enter into temptation.’ And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, ‘Father, if it is Your will, remove this cup from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.’ Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him.” -Luke 22:39-43
Yes, that’s a real olive tree that the disciples are sleeping under

The “Misterio” of Montserrat is called “the conversion of the good thief”

"Then one of the criminals who were hanged blasphemed Him, saying, 'If You are the Christ, save Yourself and us.' But the other, answering, rebuked him, saying, "Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation?' . . . Then he said to Jesus, 'Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.' And Jesus said to him, 'Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.'" -Luke 23:39-43

El Cristo: “The Christ” – a life-size wooden sculpted depiction of Christ, usually depicted as crucified on the cross or carrying the cross
- most pasos have the Cristo paso as the first one

Las Penas: El de Jesus de Nazareno – you can see the clouds of incense in this video

El Cristo de las Almas

El Palio de la Virgin: a paso carrying “La Virgin” – a life-size wooden sculpted depiction the virgin Mary, always crying or horror-stricken, often carrying a hankerchief or rosary
- second or third paso

- the most popular virgin is La Virgin de la Macarena – some people even shout “gaupa!” at her because she is thought to be so beautiful.

Virgin del Dulce Nombre (Virgin of the Sweet Name) being consoled by St. John

Virgin de Montserrat

Cruz de guia: the cross that is carried to lead the procession

Hermandad/Cofradia: “brotherhood” – an autonomous group of laypeople (women are allowed into brotherhoods as of the 1990s) who organize and participate in pasos
- hermandades are typically associated with a local church
- everyone in the hermandad pays dues
- the oldest hermandad in Sevilla was founded in the 14th Century
Nazarenos: “Nazarenes” – members of the hermandad who walk in pasos
- dress in colored robes with pointed hoods and typically carry a large candle
- some pasos have numerous children as Nazarenos (some so young that they’re holding on to Mommy’s hand)

Nazarenos

Penitentes: “Penitents” – members of the hermandad who walk in pasos behind the Nazarenos
- dress in colored robes with hoods; carry a wooden cross --often walk barefooted and/or tape several crosses together in order to pay more penance

Penitentes

A few words on Nazarenos and Penitentes . . .

---> The hoods . . . I know you’re all thinking KKK. Yes, it’s creepy for an American to see that. However, pointed hoods have been used by religious penitents for centuries; it’s truly unfortunate that an evil group like the KKK took this religious dress from the medieval church.
--->They are not all necessarily believers. That’s right, some of the people who pay dues to the hermandad and walk (sometimes barefoot!) in pasos may not believe in the Church, Jesus, the whole deal. BUT, that tells you how important the cultural and social tradition of Semana Santa is to Sevillanos. In some pasos, you see thousands of Nazarenos and Penitentos – that doesn’t mean they all go to church. (Only little old ladies go to church.) We have an agnostic/atheist Sevillano friend who’s a member of a hermandad because his Mom makes him. I’m sure that some of the members of the hermandades are serious Catholics and they are truly praying and asking for God’s forgiveness for their sins.
---> Nazarenos and Penitentes wear their hoods and robes when they go to and from home during Semana Santa to keep their identity secret. The idea is, to truly be penitent, you do not show the world how penitent you are, you only show God.

Costaleros: the guys who carry the pasos/platforms on the backs of their necks; depending on the size of the paso, 20 to 40 costaleros are under it
- during the paso, one group of costaleros will get a break and a new group will stand in for a while; it’s still an incredibly exhausting job

Typical rough-around-the-edges costaleros – they wrap fabric around their heads, with padding at the nape of their necks

Hermandad Mayor: “Elder brother” – the guy in the brotherhood who directs the costaleros (they can’t see under there and they have to navigate these huge pasos in and out of churches and down very tiny windy streets)
Mecer: “to rock, sway” – since pasos are carried by men not machines, the paso itself sways as it “walks” – it looks as if the Cristo and the Virgin are “walking” down the street
Saeta: a spontaneous and emotional religious song sung to the Christo or the Virgin paso
- saetas may be sung by men, women or children as the paso passes by – often the singer sings from a balcony above the paso
- the style of a saeta is very flamenco – fitting because the song is about pain and suffering associated with the passion

Vera Cruz: You can’t see the paso in this video. Just listen for the woman singing a saeta during this paso -- this was a couple of blocks away from our apartment.

La Madrugá: “Early morning” – from midnight until daybreak on Maundy Thursday, there are some very special pasos
- during La Madrugá, there are pasos to symbolize staying awake and keeping watch for Jesus on the night when his disciples fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane
- famous pasos of La Madrugá: La Macarena, El Gran Poder, El Silencio and Esperanza de Triana

All of this info only tells you the beginning of the story, but it’s impossible to describe Semana Santa without knowing these terms. Oh! I forgot one last term that is necessary to understand the meaning of Semana Santa:
Torrijas: delicious sweet made only during Semana Santa – tastes like a piece of french toast soaked in honey

In the next post, I’ll share some of our experiences during this magical week.

Feliz Pascua!

2008-03-23T20:19:00.004+01:00

Santo Entierro

The cross has triumphed over death!

Viernes Santo

2008-03-21T23:00:00.003+01:00

La Quinta Angustia

This is what we've been doing all week.

Nações Diferentes

2008-03-17T18:49:00.008+01:00

Lisbon at night

Portugal is now on my list of countries I’ve visited! Over the weekend, Brad, Amy and I journeyed to Lisboa (Lisbon). As far as cities go, Lisbon is sexy. It’s beautiful, comfortable with itself, diverse, historic and completely unpretentious. The geography of the city reminded us of San Francisco – it’s very hilly (with trolleys to tote you up the hills) and perched on a huge body of water by the sea (the wide end of the Tagus River or Rio Tejo). Although Lisbon is just a 6-hour bus ride from Sevilla, it is quite different from Andalucía. Portugal has one of the oldest national borders in the world, and the Portuguese are very proud of that.

An unofficial symbol of Lisbon: the yellow funicular

While in Portugal, we tried not to speak Spanish, because that can come off as being ignorant or disrespectful. When Spanish slipped out however, no one was ever rude about it and they typically understood Spanish pretty well. Brad tried some of the Portuguese he learned in grad school, but his accent was usually met with raised eyebrows because he learned the language from a Brazilian. After my time in Lisbon, I identify myself as one of the people who think that Portuguese is one of the most beautiful languages.

During our visit to Lisbon, we stayed in the Bairro Alto (high neighborhood) and we were in the heart of Lisbon nightlife. After midnight, this grungy neighborhood becomes a huge street party, where you can meet lots of interesting characters and get offered lots of hashish. Every street has countless teeny tiny bars and restaurants to keep your glass full and provide plenty of entertainment. Young Lisboetas especially love chupitos (shots) and the three of us tried quite a few. Over drinks, we met Brits, Portuguese, a Pole and a Palestinian. One night, the guy from Palestine and a guy from the Azores took us to a dance club (it was called Xanax or something like that). Poor Brad stuck it out with Amy and me until 4am.

You may be wondering if we saw Lisbon in the daylight . . . we did! With all the hills around the city, there are some great spots for amazing views. We went up to Castelo Saõ Jorge on the highest hill in Lisbon and we could gaze at the entire city.

View from the castle

We also took various forms of public transport to get to Belém, an area on the Western waterfront. Belém has many parks, the president’s home, a 14th Century Jeronomite Monastery and a famous cafe that makes delectable custard tarts. We certainly didn’t want to miss that!

In front of the Monastery
My art shot of the Torre de Belém
The tower (behind us) was built in the 16th Century as protection for the port of Lisbon

Amy had to leave on Saturday to visit her old haunts in Madrid for a day, so Brad and I did some more exploring. We walked down to the river (the old wharves) for lunch. The food is fantastic in Lisbon, by the way. We were thrilled to have international dishes that involve sauces – things you simply can’t get in Sevilla.

Enjoying a Caipirinha (very popular in Lisbon) at lunch
The river

We also did some shopping in the vibrant downtown area. The stores were much more fashionable and varied than anything I’ve seen on this side of the border. And Lisbon has less than 600,000 inhabitants – that’s smaller than Sevilla! I can’t believe that the city is that small because it is quite cosmopolitan in some areas, and the different parts of the city have such distinctive personalities. It feels like 2 million people live there.

The aesthetic of the city also shows that quite a few residents care about architecture and art. Countless buildings have tiled facades with detailed iron balconies. (The oldest tiles, or azulejos, in Lisbon came from Sevilla.) I didn’t see one park or public space without a cool modern sculpture or antique-looking fountain. Even the bus station was designed beautifully. There’s a comfortable blending of historic and modern throughout the city.

In central Lisbon

Bus station
Tiled buildings

Brad and I could not leave Portugal without sampling some Port, so we spent an afternoon at a place where you sample Port. Quite enjoyable.

On our last night in Lisbon, we wanted to have one last meal of the delicious Portuguese-fusion cuisine. We found a tiny nook, and we befriended a couple waiting outside for their table. They were speaking Spanish, so we jumped in. The guy was from England, the girl from Valencia, and they’d met in Mexico City. (Lisbon was full of Spaniards who were on their Semana Santa holiday.) The couple invited us to dine with them, and we had a great conversation about languages, traveling and culture – my favorite topics as of late. Spaniards love to talk!

One of the symbols of Lisbon

To get back to Sevilla, Brad and I had return bus tickets for an 11am bus. The only other bus left Lisbon that night and got to Sevilla at 3am. We snagged a taxi outside our hotel, but several roads downtown were closed for Palm Sunday. We zoomed across the city – all the way to the eastern bus station. We jumped out of the taxi with about 4 minutes to spare and said “Obrigada,” (thanks) to the driver. As we frantically ran from platform to platform, we realized that there was no Sevilla bus there. With resignation, we slumped ourselves onto a bench and began to whine and moan about our terrible situation. That was when the bus to Sevilla pulled up in front of us . . . 30 minutes late. That was our first religious experience on Palm Sunday.

The bus ride to and from Lisbon made our trip especially lovely. We passed through hundreds of kilometers of idyllic pastoral landscapes – rolling hills with sheep and cows grazing, lots of wildflowers, cork trees, short leaf pines and storks nesting on top of tall posts scattered throughout the landscape. All the way home, Brad and I daydreamed about having a farm in rural Portugal some day.

Our second religious experience on Palm Sunday was in Sevilla. We arrived to a completely different city, first of all. All of Sevilla is breathing Semana Santa this week. Brad and I went out to watch our first jaw-dropping religious procession late last night. Tell you ‘bout it soon.

Mi amiga Amy

2008-03-12T22:43:00.005+01:00

At the river with the Isabel II bridge in the background

On Friday, I got cut loose from my little translating job. What a relief! They may call me after the April Feria (when they’re busiest), but they really just needed me for a couple of weeks this go ‘round. The timing was great because our good friend Amy arrived over the weekend and I’ve had time this week to enjoy her.

During my freshman year at college, Amy lived in the dorm room next to me. We’ve been tight ever since. This week we even acted like we were still in college a few times. (Especially yesterday when our CRAZY Girl’s Night Out ended around 4am.) Amy spent a semester in Madrid during college, so she’s well aware of how awesome this country is. We’ve had the pleasure of introducing her to some special Sevilliano stuff that she never got to enjoy. For example: picos (little crackers you get with your tapas), our cute local bar, Elefunk, tinto de verano, salmorejo, ron con miel and Semana Santa preparations.

We’ve also enjoyed those fundamentally Spanish things like the game show Pasapalabra, ubiquitous man mullets, plazas and tortilla española. Amy has a way of charming everyone she meets, so our experiences at our usual haunts are even more fun with her. One normally-grumpy waiter gave her a nice menu to take home and one bartender gave her a detailed description of how he cuts his own mullet.

Enjoying some Cruzcampo At Bar Alfalfa

We went to mass at our local church on Sunday, and we got to see several platforms and statues that are being stored inside the church for Semana Santa. These platforms are incredibly ornate, covered in silver, and filled with candles and a life-size statue of Jesus or Mary usually. Quite impressive. During the actual pasos (processions) I doubt Brad and I will be able to get anywhere near these platforms because every street will be filled with people.

A tiny portion of one platform

Amy explored the entire city while Brad was at the archive and I was at class. She has a few more days here, and we might just take a trip somewhere . . . Why not? We know for sure that Amy has made an impression on Sevilla.

Huele bien

2008-03-06T21:05:00.005+01:00

In the past few days, the heavenly perfume of orange blossoms has begun to permeate the streets of Sevilla. The flowers smell something like a combination of tea olive and honeysuckle. When you pass through little plazas surrounded with orange trees, you smell this delicious fragrance – it stays with you even after you’ve turned the corner and walked down another tiny street.

Ella trabaja fuerte para el dinero

2008-03-01T11:24:00.003+01:00

The strangest thing happened: I survived my first week of work in Spain. Let’s talk about the differences between my job here and all of my jobs in the U.S. The biggest difference is obviously the language. I have discovered that it’s not my looks that make me charming – it’s my witty, but polite conversation. I can usually win over anyone at a new job because I’m fast on my feet, interested in other people and nice. In Spanish, I’m awkward, slow and probably rude.

During the first few days of any new job in the U.S., the new hire always gets a warm welcome from everyone and you are the center of benign curiosity for a while. Then, it’s up to you whether you get on everyone’s nerves or totally screw up. At my job in Sevilla, all I got this week were wary glances from the employees. The 2 or 3 people to whom I was introduced acted almost surly. Overall, I feel in the way and out of the loop. I also feel excluded because I may be the only person there who is not part of the big family that owns the business.

Every time I start a new job, there’s a lot to learn – how to operate their software systems, what the company does, what is my role in the company, who I answer to, etc. At this job, all of the learning takes place in Spanish! Even the buttons on Microsoft Word are in Spanish. I spent 20 minutes figuring out where the all-caps key was on the keyboard! I’m so clueless. Sometimes the dueña (propieter), who’s the main boss and the mom, gives me a serious task and then walks away to sew a ruffle onto a dress or something. I know the task is serious because she had a serious face when she told me what to do, but I only followed about ¼ of what she said. So scary!

So far, I’ve mostly been translating emails from Spanish to English and vice versa. Unfortunately their business Spanish is extremely deferential, polite and technical . . . phrases like, “it would nice if you could contact us about our catalog and designs at your earliest convenience in order to help us better serve you and your company.” In class, I’m still learning, “I went to the park yesterday.” One day, I translated an email from the U.S. into Spanish. I gave it to Estrella to read – so that she could understand the questions in it and tell me how to respond. She pointed out a million mistakes in my Spanish. Then, she took the translation into the other room (the sewing room) and I heard her mocking my Spanish to her mom and all the girls in there. Everyone was howling with laughter.

If my quick wit can’t make people at work laugh, at least my stupidity can.

El Mundo de los Negocios

2008-02-24T13:38:00.006+01:00

For the past several weeks, I’ve been looking for something productive to do. Not that I don’t relish reading a good novel at a tiny local cafe or wandering down dozens of unfamiliar and charming streets . . . I just feel like God made me to help people, contribute to society, use my brain, etc. (And I'm going a little loco.) The thing is, working in Spain – even for free – has proven to be quite a challenge.

This has been my “office” in Sevilla

At first, I thought I could volunteer in some way – at a community agency or for the Church. Volunteering in Europe is quite different than in the U.S. They have many more governmental social programs in place, and in Sevilla, a strong community social network. Spanish women live longer than all the women in Europe – it’s partly due to their strong social ties throughout life.

So, volunteering at a church – sounds simple, right? The thing is, I’m not Catholic, I don’t have a church home in Sevilla, I don’t know what laypeople can do, and I DON’T SPEAK SPANISH. In my education and counseling classes (in the U.S.), we talk about the “hidden script” at K-12 schools. The hidden script has all the information about a school that all the kids know – things like: Mrs. Mullins is the toughest algebra teacher; it takes half as long to go from the gym to the cafeteria if you cut through the library; never sit at the picnic table under the tree at lunch – it’s the basketball team’s turf. Students who have trouble reading social cues sometimes never know the hidden script at their school and consequently have a huge disadvantage.

I’m like one of those socially-challenged students, but in Sevilla. I don’t know the hidden script. Do people “volunteer” at churches here? Where do I look for job postings? What jobs can an americana get in Sevilla? Do I need to be completely bilingual to have any chance? Does it look dumb to tuck my jeans into my boots?

Eventually I gave up trying to read the hidden script and I posted ads online advertising that I can give English lessons and/or take care of kids. Someone contacted me this week, but she wanted me to translate the emails between her business and a company she’s negotiating with in New York. I said, “No puedo . . . mi español no es tan bueno.” (I can’t . . . my Spanish isn’t that good.) Crazy woman still wanted to try me out and, sure enough, I was translating detailed Conditions of Sale into English this Friday.

I expect to just last a week in this job (a week is my probationary period), but it will have been a great learning experience. I’m working for a family-owned and operated business that makes and sells flamenco wear. The store is on flamenco row in Sevilla. (Well, if the streets weren’t so winding, it would be an actual row.) This place is hoping to sell their merchandise in the U.S. through a company in New York. They already work with a company in Japan. And, yes, they have a Japanese girl doing their Spanish-to-Japanese translations.

This whole situation is surreal. On Friday afternoon, I was sitting at a computer in the back room of their off-site office. In the next room, I could hear the iron sighing where the Mom and one of the sisters were making dresses. The Dad was sitting a couple feet away from me at his computer – working on the accounting no doubt. At one point, he put in a CD. As soon as the music began, I knew it was Semana Santa music. The songs played during certain Holy Week processions are famous in Sevilla.

The translations? Well, I fear that I bungled this business deal that the flamenco store is trying to seal with the NY company. I took Brad’s huge dictionary to consult, but there are about 4 verb tenses that I have yet to learn. So, I had to guess if había means there was, there had been, there will be, there would be or there could be. Yikes!

Luckily I’m going back to language school on Monday morning. I’m itching to learn some verb tenses!

La Cuaresma

2008-02-17T12:40:00.003+01:00

When it’s the season of Lent in Sevilla, you know it. Walking around the city during the past few days, I’ve just missed several religious processions. A religious procession typically involves a large carved icon being carried through the streets on a wooden platform. Often, a small band takes part in the procession and there are always a lot of candles involved. During Holy Week (Semana Santa) numerous religious processions occur throughout Sevilla. Semana Santa in Sevilla is world-famous. I can’t wait!!

Announcements posted outside a church with information on upcoming processions

Several stores are also selling little white First Communion (Primera Comunión) dresses for Catholic girls. I’m not an expert on First Communion, but I think it’s a big deal in the Catholic Church, and it’s probably comparable to Protestant Confirmation and a Jewish Bar/Bat Mitzvah. I’m assuming First Communion happens on or around Easter for Sevillanas.

Primera Comunión dresses in a store window

Stores are also full of various items associated with Semana Santa: Catholic icons, special Semana Santa music, regalia for "penitents" and padded head coverings worn by the men who carry the wooden platforms on their heads.

I’ll go into much more detail about religious processions once we’ve experienced Semana Santa – this year it’s the 3rd week of March. This is such a big week in Sevilla that some rental companies kick out their tenants during that week; they can make hundreds of extra Euros on tourists staying in their properties. I think a lot of Sevillianos and Spaniards travel during Holy Week because everyone has the week off work. Brad and I, however, wouldn’t dream of leaving our apartment during the coolest week in Sevilla!

El Día de San Valentín

2008-02-14T10:31:00.005+01:00

Como un pajarito ama volar
Hoy amo de mis queridos pensar

Happy Valentine’s Day! The holiday for friendship and love is certainly celebrated in Spain. I’ve seen special cards, flowers and chocolates for sale. On the news last night, they interviewed people on the street to ask them if they were in love.

In my family, Valentine’s Day is always a day to enjoy friends and family because it’s my brother’s birthday! I’m very lucky to have a super bueno brother like John; he is one of my biggest fans. Wish I could be there to have some b-day cake with you, John . . . Feliz Cumpleaños!

La Casa Blanca

2008-02-12T18:19:00.000+01:00

Obama, favorito para repetir triunfo en las primarias de Maryland, Virginia y Columbia
--Headline on a Spanish news website

Ever since the New Hampshire primary in early January, I’ve been hearing all about the U.S. presidential candidates in the news, the Spanish news. When Hillary cried while answering a question in Portsmouth, the Spanish news reported on it; when Obama had a big win in South Carolina, the Spanish news reported on it; when Huckabee made some esoteric Biblical reference, well . . . you get the point.

I find it quite strange that Spaniards have ever even heard of the state of New Hampshire and that they know what a caucus is. I hardly know what a caucus is! Furthermore, how much has the American media covered the upcoming Spanish elections? Elections take place in Spain on March 9th! Before we moved to Spain, I hardly knew anything about Spain’s government, history, provinces or policies. (FYI, they have a monarchy, a President who governs the parliament – his/her party is elected, like in England – and the Spanish constitution is only about 25 years old.)

Zapatero, the President of the Spanish parliament

Watching the Spanish coverage of U.S. news and politics has made me consider how little the average gringo knows about world politics, and how great U.S. influence is in Spain. Obviously our influence is pretty strong all over the world – we’ve certainly brought some extra attention to ourselves in the past several years. It still surprises me how much the rest of the world knows about the U.S. Granted, there are many misconceptions. (For example, we went to a party last weekend and everyone was asked to bring a dish typical of their home country. The Spanish girl hosting the party told Brad and Rob, the two Americans, to bring hamburgers and fried chicken. That’s essentially what she thinks we all eat. Brad made "Chicken Bog" – only really eaten in the Pee Dee of South Carolina . . .)

Anyway, I am staying quite up to date on all the U.S. primaries, etc. by watching Spanish TV and selectively reading news online. It’s a refreshing break from watching U.S. political news coverage. By the way, we requested absentee ballots from the State of California, and they still haven’t arrived . . . We tried.

Hacer de compras

2008-02-09T11:54:00.000+01:00

Grocery shopping is one of the delights of living in Spain. I go to the grocery almost every day (sometimes I go to two groceries in one day – when I can’t find an exotic item, like cheddar cheese, at the first place.) During the first few weeks of being a “Haus Frau” (housewife), I didn’t like my new role. Cooking and cleaning are not really my scene. But, now I’ve embraced my inner Haus Frau and I let my creative juices flow when I plan meals.

In Spain, I don’t have my precious cookbooks or go-to recipes written in my Mom’s handwriting. Our kitchen also doesn’t have a microwave, oven, toaster, blender, food processor, potato masher, heart-shaped ice cube trays, ramekins, decorative spreaders, etc. When we moved in, we even lacked some basics like glasses, a knife, a skillet, kettle and corkscrew. It’s not exactly Survivor: Sevilla Edition, but we do have to get resourceful when we cook.

Our local supermarket

The grocery has almost everything we could want because we are living in Western Europe after all. I think about my friend Evelyn, who lived in Bangladesh for a couple of years, a lot when I’m cruising around the grocery store. I bet she couldn’t find Pringles, ginger ale, ketchup or refrigerated spinach tortellini when she went shopping for food in Bangladesh. Of course, it’s not Pringles that make shopping fun – it’s the different stuff! I like how things like sticks of butter and bullion cubes come in different shapes here than they do in the US.

Pimiento para freir: looks like a big jalapeño; tastes like a zingy green bell pepper. This is one of the main ingredients in Gazpacho.

The first few times I went to the grocery, I had my Spanish-English dictionary clutched to my chest. Now, I can tell someone (in Spanish) where the cheese section is. And, I know the Spanish words for dill, peas, skim, fabric softener, lip balm, sour cream and hummus (it’s hummus). I still get a little stumped in the meat section because the cuts of meat are different from ours. You can also buy whole skinned or un-skinned rabbits and all sorts of gross stuff like pork fat, calf liver, chicken feet, etc. No, during my Southern upbringing, I never once purchased or ate any of these delicacies.

Part of a regional agriculture map

The cheapest way to shop in a foreign country is to buy what the locals buy. Luckily for us, that means buying yumminess. The inexpensive stuff includes: fresh bread, fresh seafood, olive oil, wine, cheese, cured sausages, onions, garlic, oranges (in the winter), green peppers, pork chops, nuts, and chicken feet. Actually, I’ve never priced chicken feet, but I imagine they are dirt cheap. I think most Spaniards buy their daily bread at local bakeries and supermarkets. Baking is not a big thing here. I know because I watch cooking shows. Stove-top cooking and using immersion blenders seem to be very popular. Olive oil, a.k.a. Liquid Gold, is naturally the basis of most recipes, especially salads, meat dishes and soups.

Every Spanish restaurant and home has one or a few of these: an aceitera, for olive oil

I can’t say that Brad and I have only cooked Spanish cuisine while living here. Sometimes things like peanut butter sandwiches, fried chicken, sweet tea or pancakes sneak into our diet. But, we usually have at least some chorizo, semi-cured cheese or marcona almonds on hand. A couple days ago, I bought some sweet Spanish strawberries at a fruit market. I got a half kilo – having no idea how many strawberries come in a half kilo. It was super cheap and the clerk called me guapa (hottie). Love it when they do that!

Tengo veinte y siete años

2008-02-07T09:38:00.000+01:00

In the past week, I successfully completed my 27th year of life. I could get philosophical about age and experience, learning, gray hair, self-actualization, etc. Instead, I just want to talk facts. I want to remember how I celebrated my b-day in Spain.

When Brad and I hosted the Pictionary Fiesta over the weekend, one of my wonderful German friends sidled up next to me and said, “What are we gonna do for your birthday on Sunday?” Wow. A person in Spain knows it’s my birthday and she wants to help me celebrate it.

With Stefi and Christina

On Saturday, Brad and I slept late, and then we took a picnic down to the river for lunch. We met our German friends, Christina and Stefi and hung out with them for a few hours. That night, I told them I wanted to go out for drinks and dancing. We went to a bar decorated with Neo-Mudejar architectural elements and lots of gold Buddhas. Just after midnight, Christina made me close my eyes and she pulled out a gorgeous bouquet of tulips and a chocolate chip muffin with a lit tea light balanced on top. Then they sang Happy Birthday in English and Spanish. I was extremely touched.

Later we ended up at my favorite little club. The DJs usually play funky music (not indefensible “house” or “trance” music), and I never see tourists there. I’ve been there a few times with my friends, but Brad hasn’t ever joined us. It was nice to have a cute male dance partner for once.

On my actual b-day, Brad and I took it easy and had a great day. I opened birthday cards first thing that morning. (My cute card from Brad's Aunt Becky is in Spanish, and I understand all the words -- I must be making progress!) We spent a couple of hours over lunch, and I got (my fave) popcorn when we went to the movies that night. I think it’s best to ease into 27. In the dream world of Spain, that’s quite feasible.

Pictionary Fiesta

2008-02-03T18:54:00.000+01:00

It’s Brad here. Neely’s on hiatus (she had quite a large volume of posts this last month!), so it falls to me to tell you about our latest adventure in the Iberian Peninsula.

This adventure happened close to home—actually, it happened at home, in our apartment in Seville. Surprisingly, we do sometimes stay in Seville.

Anyway . . . we had a party, our first house party! Despite our lack of long-time friends in Seville, our party was surprisingly well attended. The US ambassador to Spain couldn’t make it, but we did have Neely’s German friends from the language school and the other researchers that I know from the archive (the same ones that I have breakfast with in the mornings). Some of the researchers are permanent fixtures in the archive; they’ve been here for months or years. But some of the others are only in Seville for a period of weeks or days. So there’s always a new face or two around. At our party we had a few Colombians, a Chilean, and a few new gringos (in addition to the usual mix of Spanish and French).

from left to right: Enrrique (from Chile--Bev says he looks like Jesus), Magdalena (Spain), Vanesa (France), Caroline (France), and Rob (U.S.)

Researching in a foreign country can be an isolating experience. There aren’t that many opportunities to get to know other people when you spend your days reading old manuscripts by yourself. That’s why I wanted to throw the party, and that’s also why every single person that I invited actually showed up! Our tiny little apartment was bursting with over 15 people.

It was a bit cramped

Neely and I had a little bit of food for folks to munch on (“para picar,” or “to pick at”). A little ham and salami (I do love pork!), some cheese and membrillo (quince paste . . . mmm), even some dill dip “a la Pee Dee” (as Neely likes to call it) with Bugles chips (can you believe that they sell those in Spain!?!). And we found a recipe for a drink called “Agua de Sevilla” (Water of Seville) that was gone almost as soon as the first guests arrived. I offered Water of Seville to one guest, and he asked if that was some kind of special tap water.

Around 1:00 a.m., we played Pictionary. One of our friends from the archive owns the Spanish version of the game, and she brought it with her. The clues were in Spanish, so we usually had to take a few minutes to consult our Spanish-English dictionary before we could begin. As the artists drew, the other team members were screaming guesses in every language spoken in western Europe. Complete chaos . . . I hope the neighbors weren’t too annoyed.

It's a mountain . . . a whale . . . snowstorm . . . apple pie . . . a carpenter . . .

Since Neely and I are such fun people and amazing hosts (and since archival researchers are so desperate for human interaction), the fun lasted until 3:30. It was a great success; a good time was had by all.

Le gusta el verde

2008-01-31T19:21:00.000+01:00

At the end of Charlene and Tommy’s packed vacation to Europe, we spent one day in the large cosmopolitan city of Madrid. We thought we'd just wander around the city and see some sights; none of us expected Charlene to find her mother-of-the-bride dress that day!

We’d walked just a block or two from our hotel that morning when we were lured into a bridal boutique by the beautiful store display windows. Little did we know that it was the classiest bridal boutique in Madrid! This place has their own catalogue, they do custom-made gowns and they have little heart-shaped candies in the candy dish. Everyone who helped us there was so sweet; they gave Charlene earrings and a pin as a gift! Charlene let Brad be her translator and, by the end of the morning, she had placed an order for her dress – how exciting!

Las Novias (the brides) Boutique; where Charlene bought her mother-of-the-bride dress

We spent the rest of our day celebrating the purchase and eating Madrid cuisine. For supper, we went to Casa Mingo, a famous cider house in Madrid. A great end to an incredible trip. Charlene and Tommy, we had a blast with y’all – thanks for everything!

Drinking cider (or "Doghouse" as Tommy calls it) at Casa Mingo

Venezia

2008-01-30T17:10:00.000+01:00

The proper noun Venice always used to evoke many mental images for me. When I stumbled out of the Venice train station and, for the first time, beheld the Grand Canal, those mental images were immediately replaced with infinitely superior real images. Venice is astonishing to look at. It’s quiet because there are no cars, and it’s not at all smelly in the winter; my sense of sight was the truly privileged sense during our time in Venice.

The term “small, dark alleyway” takes on a splendid new meaning in Venice – every street in Venice is a small dark alleyway. Getting lost is the easiest and most fun thing to do there. For me, every piazza, bridge and tiny passageway between buildings was an adventure. Every boat tied up along a small canal was picturesque. Every tiny pet dog running around the street was adorable. Venice is a city of about 400 bridges and countless canals. The buildings must be the inspiration for the “distressed” and exposed brick look at all the TGIFridays and Ruby Tuesdays of America. I cannot describe Venice adequately. Look at these photos:

A gondola on the Grand Canal
Someone's street

Venice is filled with winged lions (not real ones) because they are the symbol of St. Mark, Venice’s patron saint. San Marco, the famous Venetian church where the Gospel/Evangelist Mark is supposedly entombed, is amazing. According to Brad, Venice began to decline after the Middle Ages. Before the Portugese started sailing, Venice essentially had a monopoly on trade with the East. Gilded Byzantine mosaics give the church of San Marco an eastern feel. The back of the altar is covered with priceless gems. In the treasury, we saw some unbelievably old stuff – much of it from Egypt and Turkey. One of the pots on display is 5,000 years old.

The architect must've been warned in a dream that the church would collapse if there weren’t enough columns . . .
Inside San Marco
On the front of the church
In Piazza San Marco; the countless Venetian pigeons that live in this square are famous. Charlene supposedly has a photo of pigeons perched on her arms and head!

After visiting San Marco, we toured the Doges' Palace. Doges were elected Venetian dukes who, with the help of many advisers, governed the Republic of Venice (600s to late 1700s). The palace was a mind-numbing collection of rooms with gilded, carved ceilings, behemoth fireplaces, Tintoretto frescoes and Murano glass chandeliers. A bridge (Bridge of Sighs) connects the palace to the "new" prison – Cassanova was once imprisoned here. (It seems that the Cassanova mentality is dead in Italy . . . did I mention that I received zero cat calls there?)

We couldn’t spend time in Venice without shopping. It was the end of our time in Italy and Venice has some fabulous items for sale. Famous in Venice: hand-made marbleized paper, Carnival masks, Murano glass and Burano lace.

I had to splurge on this gorgeous Renaissance painting that I saw in a store window

Our hotel arranged for us to tour a glass warehouse on the island of Murano. A water taxi picked us up and left Venice to deposit us on Murano (20 minutes away.) We had a short tour of the warehouse and we got to see a “master” sculpting glass! We could have watched him work all day, but “I’m-not-a-salesman” Roberto, was anxious to show us their showroom. We didn’t buy the 4-foot tall unicorn with a naked mermaid on its back or the set of 12 gold leaf brandy snifters, but we did get a few goodies.

At the bus stop in Murano – looks like we both have a “buyer’s high.” The weather was perfection on that day.

When it was time for lunch, we decided to go to Burano, a tiny island near Murano. Burano is now Tommy’s dream-home spot. How could it not be? The buildings on Burano are all painted vibrant colors and the views of the water are heavenly. I couldn’t stop taking photos.

View from Burano
A seafood place on Burano

When we finally were able to pull ourselves away from this delightful island (and after we’d done some more shopping), we rode home on the water bus just as the sun was setting over Venice.

For our last dinner in Italy, we ordered lots of ham, pasta and wine. The waiter even brought us free limoncello before we left. Most Venetians were quite friendly. The young owner of our heavenly B&B came in early to serve us breakfast before we caught our early train the next morning. All of this just made it harder to say “goodbye” to Venice.

We took a long train ride from Venice back to Rome to catch our plane to Madrid (we made poor Charlene and Tommy take a million planes, trains, buses and boats.) As a special treat, we had lunch in the dining car. We got to look out onto picturesque vineyards and country houses surrounded with tall cedars. I am positive that Italy left a remarkable first impression on three of us. (And a great second impression on Brad.)

Ciao!

"Sotto il Sole della Toscana"

2008-01-29T18:35:00.000+01:00

Charlene’s favorite movie: Under the Tuscan Sun

We spent one night in Siena, one of the many charming towns of Tuscany. When in Rome, it’s not easy to, “do as the Romans do,” because there aren’t that many Romans around. Siena, on the other hand, is a living, breathing city with actual locals. We saw them in the main square with their children celebrating the start of Carnavale; we saw them in the narrow hilly streets chatting with friends, walking their dogs and strolling their babies on their evening passegiate before supper.

The Piazza del Campo (main square) was littered with confetti and silly string from families celebrating Carnavale

One of our highlights in Siena was our dinner. I washed down my delectable chicken marsala with Tuscan wine and we may have had tiramisu for dessert . . . I don’t remember. While I’m chatting about food, I must mention some of the highlights in Italy.
1. Serving sizes – I hate getting a massive plate of tortellini at Olive Garden because I always try to eat it all. The serving sizes were actually appropriate in Italy.
2. Wine – When you order house wine in Italy, you often actually get a pitcher full of wine the restaurant got from a big barrel in the back. And, some places have sparkling wine ON TAP. Italy is the land of Proseco and I enjoyed every glass I drank.
3. Artichokes, sun dried tomatoes, gnocchi, prosciutto, strawberry tiramisu, nutella and cappuccino.

Gothic architecture is everywhere in Siena. The Duomo (church) there is especially artistic. The marble on the exterior of the church is pearl and pale pink tones; inside, the marble columns have wide horizontal black and white stripes. Our hotel in Siena was pretty unique. The rooms had vaulted gothic ceilings and we looked out on to antique mossy roof tiles.

Brad and his beloved gothic arches; in Piazza del Campo
Il Duomo in Siena
Close-up of the top mosaic
On our hotel balcony; this is the cover shot for February’s Siena Home and Garden magazine

After breakfast in bed at the hotel and one last quiet stroll through the Piazza, we were refreshed and ready for our long train ride to Venice.

La Città Eterna

2008-01-28T10:27:00.000+01:00

Since Charlene, Tommy and I have never experienced the splendors of Italia, Brad, who toured Italy years ago, created a fantastic itinerary for us. During all his preparations, he never told me how COOL Italy is. I mean, I already knew it was old, they eat a lot of pasta, the men are flirty and the Pope lives there. With all the movies, music and art about Italy, it’s hard to have a realistic or multi-dimensional concept of Italy. Maybe I’ve just heard bad versions of That’s Amore too many times. The real Italy is a rich treat for the senses and it left me wanting more.

Speaking of flirty men, I was a little disappointed when no one so much as whistled at me or yelled something inappropriate in Italian during our entire trip. I was not, however, disappointed with the pasta or wine, and almost everything we saw exceeded my expectations by far.

Roma

Rome is known as “the eternal city” and one can hardly wonder why. The civilization of Rome shaped world history in such a dramatic and lasting way. On our first morning in Rome, we struck out and soon found ourselves surrounded by ancient ruins on all sides. It’s baffling to see modern parking lots and office buildings adjacent to large sites where stately forums once stood. Countless structures and pillars still stand – 2000 years after they were erected.

At I Fori (the forums)

After wandering through many forums of ancient Rome, we headed to the Colosseum. In Italy, you see iconic spot after iconic spot. The Colosseum is about as iconic as you can get. Incredibly, only one third of the original structure is still standing. A real-life Italian archeologist gave us a tour and we learned a lot. Apparently the Colosseum is built on a site where Nero’s private lake used to be. At the very beginning of the 1st century, A.D., crazy emperor Nero transformed the center of Rome into his personal park. Shortly after Nero’s death, the new emperor reclaimed the center of Rome for the public and built the Colosseum as a place for public entertainment.

View of Colosseum. See that tree to the left? The trees look different in Rome. That was the first thing I noticed when our plane landed here.

Our archeologist guide pointed out that the movie Gladiator was not completely accurate. Shocking. Apparently, gladiators would fight each other, but never animals as well. Wild animals were fought by hunters in the morning shows at the Colosseum. The after-lunch shows were man vs. man. Each “team” of gladiators would have their own weapon/special tool of death. Gladiators might be prisoners, slaves or even free men who volunteered to fight to gain money or fame.

Inside Colosseum; historically sand (rena in Italian) would cover the wood floor in the center to soak up blood – this is how the word “arena” is derived

We later moved on to more peaceful sites in Rome. The Pantheon is one of those non-Christian places of worship that the Catholic Church appropriated for itself. The Pantheon is probably most famous for its bewildering ancient architecture. Also famous at the Pantheon is Raphael’s tomb.

One God . . . many gods . . . Does anyone else see the irony in this sign?

To me, the most enchanting site in Rome is the Trevi Fountain. Again, iconic and seemingly trite, but it was truly enchanting. The Trevi Fountain plays an important role in a famous film I love: La Dolce Vita. Tossing a coin into the fountain ensures that you will one day return to Rome.

Trevi Fountain

Moving right along . . . the Vatican. Man, do they have a lot stuff there. If all the sculptures, paintings and tapestries in the Vatican museums were sold, I think we’d have enough money to eliminate world poverty. But that’s beside the point.

Our visit to the Vatican involved walking through the countless galleries and corridors of the Vatican museums, then the Sistine Chapel, then St. Peter’s Basilica. I use the term “eye glut” to describe this experience. Everywhere we walked, there were detailed mosaics on the floors, massive painted frescoes or tapestries on the walls and gilded and carved ceilings. Every corner of every room was extravagant.

Mosaic floor
On a staircase
One of the many Raphael frescos in the Vatican

Just as total eye glut has begun to set in, you enter the Sistine Chapel. What can I say? We’ve all seen the unmistakable images from this chapel many times. It’s surreal to look at the real thing. And, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was restored just a few years ago; Michelangelo’s colors are almost too vibrant to be painted in the 1500s. All four of us had severe cases of “Sistine Chapel Neck” when we left.

Then we walked into St. Peter’s Basilica. At this point, we’re only capable of making grunts of amazement because we’re so overloaded. The Basilica seems much newer than our little Sevilla cathedral. I call it “little” because St. Peter’s is the biggest cathedral in the world and ours is only the 3rd largest. St. Peter’s also gets its name because the Apostle Peter is supposedly buried there.

The high altar of St. Peter’s Basilica

I wanted to assure that I would be as weak as possible by the end of my visit to the Vatican, so I agreed to climb the dome of St. Peter’s with Brad.

Me, after 320 steps

The heavenly views of Rome were worth the crazy climb. We saw distant mountains, the Tiber river and countless church domes all over the city.

One view from the top of St. Peter’s

After such a marathon morning, we decided to cross the entire city by metro then take a bus out to the Appian Way and the catacombs. I couldn’t miss seeing these! After leaving our bus, we began to climb the small hill toward the Via Appia (Appian Way). The setting was so peaceful. Via Appia looked exactly like the illustrations of it from my 8th grade Latin textbook. The small ancient “highway” was exactly how I’d pictured it. Evenly-spaced shadows cast by cedars that line the road and the warm light of the setting sun made the scene especially magical.

Via Appia

We took a tour of one of the excavated catacombs that is located just off the Via Appia. Only three out of 60 catacombs have been excavated. We saw a huge portion of one catacomb, and then we learned that there are 20 kilometers of tombs at that one location. There is a common misconception that catacombs were primarily used as secret Christian worship spaces. While ancient Christians did sometimes celebrate mass here, the catacombs were primarily used as tombs for Christians.

And what a lot of tombs there are! We walked down many dark, narrow corridors filled with spaces for bodies on either side. Several 3rd century popes were buried at the catacomb we toured, as well as many Christian martyrs. The bodies of the popes have been moved, but all the other bodies had disintegrated, so the tombs were empty. Some families had family burial “rooms” with painted frescoes and mosaics – some of which are still visible. Walking by graves of the earliest Christians, seeing Christian symbols carved into the walls (graffiti) . . . was very powerful.

The chi-rho; one of the most common symbols we saw carved in the rock walls of the catacombs

On our last morning in Rome, Brad and I visited a cathedral called Santa Maria Maggiore. The interior of this cathedral is subdued compared to some gothic cathedrals in Europe, but it’s still filled with sculptures, carved wood and gilded frescoes. Mass was being celebrated in one of the side chapels and several nuns and other people were sitting in prayer, facing the main altar. Brad and I sat for a moment near the back of the church.

Presently, we heard a bell ringing – signaling the approach of a priest. Then, a procession of 20+ bishops passed by and they entered a side chapel to the left. The procession was led by (we think!) a cardinal. The cardinal was in a red robe and hat, and the bishops were all in magenta robes. So Rome! Inside Santa Maria Maggiore, there were about a dozen confessional booths that were similar to those at St. Peter’s. At the top of each wooden booth was written the languages spoken by the priest who receives confession there. Italiano, Deutsch, François, etc. A small red light on the booth would be lit if the priest was currently in the booth.

I thought about my Catholic friends a lot while I was in Rome. Many Catholics visit Rome on a religious pilgrimage. After visiting the opulent St. Peter’s Basilica, where many popes are buried and immortalized in larger-than-life sculptures, it was strange to visit the catacombs and see the humble tombs of early popes. Christians were worshipping together in Rome long before the religion was divided into Catholic and Protestant. Going to the catacombs felt like a mini religious pilgrimage to me.

Whew! Rome exhausts even the most seasoned tourist. Our next destination, a small town in Tuscany, would be the retreat we needed.

Nuestro “Hogar”

2008-01-26T21:44:00.000+01:00

Being back in Sevilla after the holidays was lovely. Wandering familiar streets and ordering my regular breakfast made Sevilla feel almost like home. So, when Charlene and Tommy (my in-laws) came to Sevilla for a few days, I especially enjoyed revisiting those Sevilliano spots that I love.

Sevilla is a wondrously accessible and charming European city; the perfect place for Charlene and Tommy to begin their first visit to the continent. We saw the main attractions here of course – the cathedral, barrio Santa Cruz, Triana bridge, castle, Plaza Nueva, Plaza de España, the park, etc. With each visitor to Sevilla, we visit many of these spots and I always notice something I’ve never noticed before. I’m starting to learn more about who lived in the castle years ago, how they built the cathedral (the architect wanted to build a cathedral that would make future generations ask “Were they crazy?”) and on which back streets there is a cozy cafe hidden away.

At Plaza de España; looks like they recovered from jetlag in record time!

Charlene and Tommy enjoyed the tapas and wine culture as much as Brad and I do. We shared lots of cheese, ham, calamares (fried calamari), ox, shrimp and flan. Yum! We also breakfasted at a little neighborhood French bar, lunched at an Irish pub and thoroughly enjoyed some Spanish chocolate and churros.

Brad and I used Charlene and Tommy’s visit as an excuse to see (for the first time) the Countess of Lebrija’s house and the Plaza de Toros (bullring). In the early 1900s, the Countess of Lebrija bought a bunch of Roman mosaics and artifacts from Itálica (ancient Roman city just miles from Sevilla) and installed them in her sumptuous home. These items from ancient Rome were just a foretaste of things to come.

The Plaza de Toros was super fun. Bullfighting season is only April to October, but we got to tour the ring, the stables and the museum at this famous bullring. One item of note in the museum was the head of Islero’s mother. Oh, you don’t know Islero? He was the bull that killed the most famous matador in Spain, Manolete, in 1947. Islero’s mom was killed after Manolete’s death, “so that she would not give birth to any more killers.”

Plaza de Toros, Sevilla

To round out Charlene and Tommy’s ultra-Andalucian visit, we attended a fantastic flamenco show at a famous venue in Santa Cruz (neighborhood in Sevilla). A singer, guitarist and bailadora (dancer) performed. When you’ve eaten fried fish, gazed at Moorish architecture, seen a flamenco show, toured a famous bullring and laughed with the locals, you know you’ve been to southern Spain.

But the Bentons had much more to see on their European vacation! We had plane tickets to fly from Madrid, across the sparkling Mediterranean, to Italy . . .

Tengo la Gripe

2008-01-11T10:11:00.000+01:00

Que bonito es no hacer nada y después descansar.
-Spanish saying
“How lovely is it to do nothing and rest afterward.”

In my real-world life, early January typically involves a long flight home, painfully early mornings at work under harsh florescent lighting, hurriedly buying my textbooks for the impending semester, restocking the fridge and paying all the bills that arrived while we were away for the holidays. Often Brad and I have a cold from all the traveling.

This year, I got a cold from traveling. But, it didn’t really hit me until we were leaving Prague to come home. And, I was able to simply descansar (rest) at home while getting well – for the first time since my childhood. A gift from God.

Even better, mis suegros (my in-laws) are arriving at Madrid Barajas airport on Sunday! I get to be with them when they experience Europe for this first time.

I hope all of you are enjoying the fresh start of the New Year. If you’re like me, you’ve taken this time to “revise” those resolutions that were a bit too lofty. As the Spaniards say, Feliz Año! (“Happy year!”)

Šťastný nový rok

2008-01-07T21:36:00.000+01:00

Train travel in Europe is usually quite pleasant and functional; this was how we traveled throughout central Europe. We would often pass a small town nestled in a valley, with a prominent church steeple in the middle of dozens of red roofs. We saw frozen ponds with people ice skating on them. We saw forests of perfectly proportioned evergreens with a dusting of snow on all their branches. The most snow we saw was probably in Moravia, the area east of Bohemia in the Czech Republic.

At a train station

On New Years Eve. These peaceful and scenic train rides were one of my favorite parts of our trip

Praha

Eastern Europe is a very different, albeit rapidly changing, world. The Czech Republic has undergone dramatic changes since the USSR finally broke up not too long ago. Prague has become a tourism capital in recent years and I imagine this city constantly is finding new ways to get your tourism dollars. Prague’s “old world charm” is what you always read about in travel magazines. It’s hard to articulate what makes Prague so captivating. That’s why I love it.

You know you’re in Prague when . . . you get hassled for money before you’ve even left the train station. Not surprisingly, this happened to Brad and me. Any travel book, seasoned traveler or sign in the subway and on the street in Prague will tell you, “Beware of pickpockets. Guard your belongings.” Luckily our wallets were under so many layers of clothing that a pickpocket would have to be making out with one of us to steal our money.

We arrived in Prague on New Year’s Eve. The party had already started. After dropping off our bags at our fantastic “boutique hostel,” we headed downtown. The Prague equivalent to Times Square is Wenceslas Square. Yes, it’s named for “Good King Wenceslas.” You’ll hear more about him later. The Square is more like a 5-block rectangle, so there’s room for everyone. Live music acts were already performing on the stage in the afternoon. Jumbotrons and cameras were set up as well – to broadcast the action to the rest of the Czech Republic of course. Wenceslas Square

Brad and I continued through Wenceslas Square and made our way to Old Town Square. The famous astronomical clock was chiming, so we watched as the 12 apostles glided by inside the clock. The Christmas market in the square was still humming with activity. We bought some snacks and took photos. We walked to Charles Bridge to see the castle, lit up and magnificent, across the river.

The Astronomical Clock
Old Town Square
Prague Castle

We booked our New Year’s Eve dinner online before we came to Prague because we didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know if every restaurant would be reserved and every bar would be packed. Having dinner at McDonalds and standing in the freezing streets waiting on midnight did not sound fun. So, I booked a dinner with entertainment package at some traditional Czech place.

It turned out to be a bust. We were seated in a back room, so we had no chance of seeing the transvestite cabaret show with live music. (When I did go into the main room, all I saw was some overweight queen in a flowing blue gown doing an interpretive dance to a Tina Turner song.) We did enjoy the couple who was seated at our table. Ray and Linda are from outside London and they are our parents’ ages. They clarified, at one point, that they are not married. They divorced their respective spouses not too long ago and now they’re happy together. Thanks for letting us know.

The four of us paid our drink bills before midnight, and left the restaurant to find some fireworks. We got a spot right at the river, with a great view of Charles Bridge and the castle and many fireworks shows. I heard that the Czech love their fireworks and I now know that’s true. There were fireworks going off in every direction. Fireworks over the castle, a professional fireworks show at the Charles Bridge, and people in the crowd lighting alarmingly big fireworks just behind us. At midnight, everyone in the crowd hugged their companions and yelled, “Happy New Year!” in a million different languages.

We chose the dangerous route to get back to our room; we went through Wenceslas Square. Prague party-goers like to set off deafening fireworks into the crowd. At one point, sparks from a roman candle almost grazed Brad’s head. We were ducking for fireworks, pushing through strings of drunken kids hanging on to one another for support, and trying not to step on the hazardous shards of champagne bottles. Meanwhile, the music is going strong. I thought it was a tiny bit thrilling; Brad, a 57-year-old man trapped in a 27-year-old body, hated every second of it.

On New Year’s Day, we slept in. When I opened the curtains, huge snowflakes were falling outside. Nothing was sticking, but it was beautiful. When we finally set out, it was almost lunchtime, but the cafe we found was still serving yummy breakfasts. Interestingly, the cafe we chose was once frequented by Einstein and Kafka. No earth-shattering scientific or philosophical ideas dawned on Brad and me. Brad ordered the “Cowboy Breakfast” – fried eggs, bacon, coffee and apple pie.

A message from Miss Slouchy

In the afternoon, we crossed Charles Bridge and walked around the Mala Strana area. We slowly climbed up to the castle. Once inside the old palace, we learned that the Defenestration of Prague occurred there. This is what happened: In 1618, at the onset of the Thirty Years War (essentially a war of Protestants vs. Catholics), a group of Protestants took a court scribe and went to Prague castle to have a rough and dirty “trial” of two Imperial governors/Catholic counselors. The governors were essentially found guilty of being Catholic. They were then thrown out of the castle window. Then, the Protestants threw their scribe (who knew too much) out the window as well. All three survived the fall because they landed on manure or something soft. But then, the Protestants started shooting at them. They survived the bullets too. The scribe was later given a title by the emperor: “von Hohenfall,” meaning “of Highfall.”

View from the castle

While on the castle grounds, we also explored St. Georges Basilica, Golden Lane and St. Vitol’s cathedral. St. Wenceslas is buried at St. Vitols. The crown made for Wenceslas after his death is also kept under 7 locks there. The 7 keys to the locks are in the possession of 7 different important people in the Czech Republic. Even though the Czech Republic no longer has a monarchy, the crown is sometimes brought out for official state ceremonies; that’s how important Wenceslas is to the Czech.

The rest of our time in Prague was spent shopping, exploring the Jewish neighborhood, eating at a medieval tavern, finding a Thai place and bagel place. And more shopping. I mentioned that Prague loves to take your tourist dollars (although technically the currency is the Corona.)

On our last night in Prague, we went to a performance of the comic opera Don Giovanni in Prague. Mozart premiered this opera in 1787 at the Theatre of the Estates (Stavovské divadlo) in Prague, and the Theatre of the Estates is where we went! Our seats would have been great in a normal theater, but this one is quite antique. The seats are in a U shape, so we had to bend over the balcony and look right to really see the stage. But, it was neat to pretend we were concert-goers in Mozart’s time – think of the colorful famous and infamous characters who must have been in his audiences.

Theatre of the Estates

An evening at the opera was a nice shift from the rest of our time beating the streets in Prague. Having Prague as our last stop was apropos because it’s a little grungy and our clothes, by then, were a little grungy too. It was time to go “home” to Spain.

Haben Sie dunkel Bier?

2008-01-06T23:44:00.000+01:00

In the time between Christmas and New Years, Brad and I visited München (Munich) and Wien (Vienna). Both cities are world famous for many reasons. I enjoyed simply being in these cities – strolling past glamorous buildings in Vienna and listening in on conversations in Munich. Brad enjoyed the history and cultural influence of the two important cities. We both relished the food and drink; the freezing temperatures gave us a good reason to stay inside pubs, cafes and coffee shops and linger over the yummy items on our table.

Let’s take this opportunity to view a photo journal entitled: Ich spreche kein Deutsch, aber ich doch spreche Bier ("I don't speak German, but I definitely speak beer"), featuring Brad.

He drank it dark
He drank it light
He drank it with a pretzel this one night

München

Our lodging in Munich was a popular and packed hostel that caters to English speakers, specifically English speakers between the ages of 18 and 22. We had a private room, but we couldn’t completely escape the college party feel of this place. However, Munich is a fun city – I can understand why college students want to spend some time here.

In the city famous for beer, we headed to the Hofbrauhaus on our first night in Munich. The Hofbrauhaus historically was home to Hitler’s “Beer Hall Putsch,” a political rally to gain support for his side before World War II. Today, you would never know that such a serious historical event had taken place at this raucous beer hall.

Once inside, you search the expansive beer hall for a couple of free seats at one of the large communal tables. Brad and I found seats next to an American couple from New Jersey. They are world travelers and we enjoyed talking to them for I don’t know how long. The soundtrack of the Hofbrauhaus is a traditional brass band that plays upbeat tunes all night. The traditional drink is a liter of beer. I’m not a beer drinker, so I quietly ordered a glass of white wine. I may have imagined it, but I think a silence suddenly overtook the entire Hofbrauhaus and everyone looked at me with horrified stares. Brad made up for my blunder by drinking 2 liters of beer.

This was his 2nd liter

Our next day in Munich was a bit more erudite and thoughtful. In the morning, we watched the bizarre 15-minute clock tower show at the “New” Rathaus (city hall) downtown. We strolled through Viktualenmarkt, an upscale open-air market. After a brief walk through the Residenz, we headed to the Alte Pinakotek, a spot where the kids staying at our hostel are rarely seen I’m sure.

The Alte Pinakotek is an art museum in Munich with an incredible collection of pieces (14th -18th painting) from past rulers of Bavaria. The museum has been accumulating these works of art for centuries and I was delighted to see the collection. An exceptionally good audioguide took us through Van Dyke, loads of Rubens pieces, Rembrandt, German painter Albrecht Durer, Spanish masters Velazquez, El Greco and Murillo (from Sevilla) and even Da Vinci. I especially enjoyed the medieval works at the museum. In some incredibly old religious paintings, the angels are tiny creatures with blue wings and tails, and each saint or member of the Holy Family has a stunning gold halo surrounding their heads. Some interesting images from the collection are below.

Adoration of the Christ Child by the Virgin, by Stephan Lochner
The Flight into Egypt, by Adam Elsheimer

Wien

Ah, Vienna . . . continental, posh, elegant, self-assured, full of Italians there for New Years. Yes, getting a room in Vienna just before Silvester (New Year’s Eve) was no easy task. Rumor had it that every hotel room in the city was booked. Having countless European and Asian tourists in Vienna just intensified the international vibe of the city.

Since Vienna is so international, Brad and I gave ourselves permission to indulge in some of the international cuisine we’ve been deprived of for months (living in Spain). Our first meal there was sushi. Our last meal there was Greek – best baklava I’ve ever eaten and the waiter gave us a glass of ouzo on the house before we left.

I remember being freezing the whole time we were in Vienna. We essentially went from restaurant to coffee shop to restaurant. We squeezed in a few tourist attractions along the way, but old castles and stone cathedrals are not heated! The time we spent outside was great even though our noses were numb. The street performers in Vienna are no joke. One trained pianist played bombastic classics on a real piano sitting in the middle of the busy pedestrian street. We also heard a trio of blind singers singing beautiful harmonies in Russian. The city’s festive decorations also made the outdoors delightful.

Street decorations – how glamorous!
Even horses look extra classy here

One night, Brad and I ducked into a cozy little bar for a warm snack and some drinks. Just as we were paying the check, I struck up a conversation with two middle-aged Austrian guys sitting behind us. They noted that not many Americans know German. This is true. I took years of German in high school and college, and it was so nice to use it again. Being able to compose past tense sentences on the fly was such a pleasure after my months of struggling with Spanish. When you know more than “please” and “thank you” in a foreign language, it can be so rewarding. Brad even picked up a good bit of German on our trip. He also just started saying English words with a German accent, because many of our words are similar.

We ended up chatting (in English) with the Austrian guys for quite a while and they even bought us two more rounds of drinks! We talked about Wyoming, Schwarzenegger, what to do in Prague (our next stop), all the Italians in Vienna and 80s music. The bar was playing really cheesy 80s songs from the US, Germany and Austria. One of the guys got the waitress to play Amadeus, a song by an Austrian band that was apparently number one in the US in 1984. The four of us laughed and sang along because we all knew it.

While in Vienna, we visited Hofburg Palace, home of the Hapsburgs. We marveled at the opulence of the Silver Collection museum, we saw the “Sissi” (a famous and strange queen) museum and the Imperial apartments. The Hapsburgs, like most royals, lived in splendor.

Outside Hofburg Palace

We went back to the chapel at Hofburg Palace on Sunday to hear Schubert’s mass performed by the Vienna’s Boys Choir. The mass was lovely, but those in attendance had deplorable concert/religious ceremony manners. Brad and I were so shocked and distracted by those sitting around us that we could hardly enjoy being there. Most of the crowd around us was Spanish and I think Brad wanted to yell, “¿Por qué no te calles?”

Since we were in Vienna just before New Year’s Eve, the city was preparing for a big celebration. Good luck items were sold everywhere – most notably: pigs, four-leaf clovers, mushrooms and pennies. Also popular were petitfours glazed with pink icing, with little pink marzipan pigs on top. Inside, was a layer of “punsch,” some type of sweet liqueur. Brad and I decided that if we ate one of these confections each day we were in Vienna, we would surely have good luck in the New Year.

A “Punsch Schnitte”

The most famous confection in Vienna is, of course, Sachertorte at Hotel Sacher. Brad and I dutifully went to the packed Cafe Sacher for a slice of the world famous chocolate cake. It wasn’t the first time I’d been to Cafe Sacher. A lifetime ago, I went for Sachertorte with 3 friends and I remember that night as one of the best nights of my life. Going back with my husband was a treat. Brad enjoyed his Sachertorte immensely and the baker in him immediately started decoding the secret to making this cake. He thinks it may be a thin layer of apple jelly just under the icing. Who knows?

Austria is famous for Schubert, Schumann, Mozart and the Waltz. A trip to Vienna would be incomplete without attending a classical music performance. Brad and I went to the stunning Musikverein for a “New Years Concert.” This was one of the many spots that Mommy Jo, my grandmother/former tourguide, suggested we go. It was fantastic. Gazing at the interior of the Musikverein is a feast for the eyes, and the orchestra played an ebullient concert of Viennese music. The performance was thrilling for me. I didn’t know many of the songs, but the conductor had obviously chosen festive, fun pieces for this special concert. An added bonus, our fellow concert-goers were Viennese little old ladies in long fur coats, instead of noisy tourists.

Interior of the Musikverein; on the night of our concert, there were pink flowers on the balconies and red poinsettias at the front

To round out our time in Vienna, we saw the Blue Danube (river), Nachtmarkt (colorful outdoor market), the Rathaus, the Austrian parliament, and we ate Wienerschnitzel. Coffee houses are also famous in Vienna, so we found a funky, mellow one on our last afternoon in Vienna. We were enjoying our cozy couch and warm drinks when I saw snow falling outside. Did I mention that one of the waltzes we heard at the Musikverein was Schneeflocken Waltz? That means "Watlz of the Snowflakes."

This was the first, not the last, time we saw snow on our trip.

Fröhliche Weihnachten

2008-01-05T22:14:00.000+01:00

Look who we found in Heidelberg! Our Norwegian-Mexican singing Santa!

We choose to spend Christmas day in Heidelberg, a city not far from Frankfurt. Heidelberg is small enough to get around on foot and big enough to have at least one or two restaurants open on Christmas Eve and day. Before we could get to Heidelberg (and attend the afternoon concert there for which we already had tickets), we had to leave Rothenburg. Getting to Heidelberg proved easier said than done . . .

Rothenburg is so small that it’s at the end of a solitary little train line. We were leaving on a Sunday, just days before Christmas, so I wasn’t sure trains would be running regularly. However, we already had our tickets and we got on the train in plenty of time that morning. Since we would need to change trains a few times in order to get to Heidelberg, Brad suggested I go to the computerized ticket machine and print out an itinerary of our train connections.

I waited in line for others to print out tickets, etc. and I finally got to the machine. Just as I was typing in “HEI” for “Heidelberg,” I heard the train leaving. Brad was on the train with all of our luggage and no grasp of German. I was on the platform with our train tickets. I started to run and desperately search for a handle I could grab on the train. Then I could just cling to the rapidly moving train and force a door open. Brad ran to a window and looked out at me in bewilderment. He considered telling the conductor to stop the train, but then he realized they only stop the train in movies. At the same time, I realized that people only jump on a moving train in movies – and those people are always really fit. And they’re running away from the police or something.

Our mistake cost us 88 Euros (since we missed our scheduled connections), but we got to Heidelberg in time for the concert. We gained a new appreciation of the German train system and I gained some knowledge about Taiwanese government. (A Taiwanese student studying in Germany was on the platform in Rothenburg when the train left me – she comforted me and assured me that another train would come soon. We chatted about the differences between Taiwan and China at the tiny coffee shop that was open near the station.)

Heidelberg

Attending a glorious performance of the Bach Christmas Oratorio was the first thing we did in Heidelberg. The oratorio was performed inside the grand Heiligeistkirche (Holy Ghost Church) in the center of the old city. The soloists were professional singers and the choir and orchestra were excellent as well. I had never heard the Bach Oratorio performed before and it was heavenly. The Christmas texts were all so familiar, even though everything was in German.

Inside the Heiligeistkirche

We stayed at Vier Jahreszeiten (ironically translates to “Four Seasons”) in Heidelberg. Supposedly, Goethe once stayed there! Our hotel room was the perfect place to wake up on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. The room was a huge, corner room and we had incredible views of the famous Alte Brücke (Old Bridge) and the Neckar River.

View of the Alte Brücke from our room
Another view from our room
Our hotel is just over Brad’s left shoulder in this photo

On Christmas Eve, Brad and I strolled through the old part of the city and we climbed up to the Schloss (castle).

Heidelberg Schloss is on the left on the hill. Isn’t that frost on the trees beautiful?
View from the Schloss; the big church is Heiligeistkirche

Later in the afternoon, we went to a vespers service at Heiligeistkirche. The enormous church was filled with people. At the front of the church was a 25 foot tree, decorated with traditional straw ornaments in various star shapes, and sparkling with hundreds of tiny white lights. Suspended just above the top of the tree was a glowing Moravian star. Brad and I both tried to permanently memorize the image of this beautiful church interior. The vespers service was lovely. The Lutheran minister read those amazing verses from Matthew and Luke, and she gave a homily about Jesus bringing light to the world. The children’s choir sang about die stern uber Betlehem (the star over Bethlehem.) We sang the magical German carols Es Ist ein Ros Entsprungen (Lo, How a Rose E’re Blooming) and Stille Nacht (Silent Night).

We had dinner reservations at a hotel just across the street from our hotel. While planning our trip, I had asked our hotel for restaurant ideas on the 24th and 25th. Our Christmas Eve dinner was superb and we felt like we were truly celebrating. The food was gourmet and the 4-course meal went on for hours. We also enjoyed being inside the coziest of dining rooms. The room was decorated with Christmas trees, candles and large gingerbread cookies tied with ribbons hanging in the windows. Many of the guests there obviously celebrated Christmas Eve at that restaurant every year because they knew the owner and chef, and, as they left, they said, “Bis nächstes Jahr!” (Until next year!)

When we went to bed on Christmas Eve I heard bells ringing all over the city. When I awoke on Christmas morning, I heard bells ringing.

Brad and I discovered a little Anglican church in Heidelberg that had an English-language Christmas morning service. What a joy! The church was small and the 30-person congregation was mostly made up of church members – Brits who live in Heidelberg. As we walked in, everyone said, “Happy Christmas!” in English. The service started with a Carol Medley; we sang at least 10 celebratory carols. By the end of the service, we had sung every carol we know – with the exception of Here We Come A’ Wassailing and Jingle Bells, but those are secular. I also loved singing the English melodies for some of my favorite carols.

After the service, everyone was invited to stay for coffee and cake. Brad and I hung around for a bit. The two older ladies who had been sitting our pew stopped to chat with us on their way out. Margaret, who lives in Heidelberg, brought her friend Teresa (pronounced “Tressa”) to the service because Teresa is visiting from Ireland and doesn’t know any German. Margaret is hilarious and she was poking fun at the proper English congregants there. She found out that we were American tourists, and she invited us over to her house for “a cup of Christmas cheer after dinner.”

Our Christmas dinner reservations were at an old hotel in the center of town. We enjoyed our meal and we were so excited to know we had after-dinner plans at someone’s home! Before going to Margaret’s, we had time to stroll over to the other side of the river and take some photos.

Margaret lives in a building right on Karlsplatz, one of the main squares in town. We showed up right at 5 p.m. and didn’t leave until 8:30 that night. From Margaret’s big apartment windows, you could see the Christmas market outside, with vendors selling Glühwein and snacks, and a busy little skating rink adorned with evergreens. Inside, Margaret had a beautiful tree decorated with items she picked up across the world no doubt. We learned that she’s lived in Greece, Ireland, the U.S., Poland, etc. and she speaks all of those languages.

Margaret and Teresa had cooked Christmas dinner for three new friends of Margaret’s: an American, Canadian and a German. All three were all connected in some way with the university in Heidelberg and Margaret had met them at the German-American forum there. Margaret introduced Brad and me to everyone as her “old friends.” She kept the five of us in stitches telling us stories from her life and joking about various cultural curiosities. Apparently Margaret did graduate work at Columbia in American Studies, so she knew quite a bit about our culture.

The afternoon was a cultural experience in and of itself. Margaret gave us small glasses of German honey wine when we arrived. Later, Teresa served the special Irish Christmas pudding she had brought for Christmas. “Pudding” in the British Isles is a moist cake. The one we ate had five different kinds of raisins, brandy and Guinness beer among the ingredients. Later we had “Greek coffee” prepared by the Canadian girl whose parents are Greek. Then we ate some German Stollen (similar to nut raisin cake) that Margaret’s baker had given her as a Christmas gift. Meanwhile Margaret played a CD of an Irish folksinger – to make Teresa feel at home. Overall, we had a blast. The famed German hospitality made our Christmas in Heidelberg truly unforgettable.

Our new favorite brewery/restaurant gave out little chocolate Santas with the check. We ate there on Christmas Eve & Christmas Day.

Zwei Glühwein, bitte

2008-01-04T18:58:00.001+01:00

Drinking Glühwein (mulled wine) at the Christmas Market in Würzburg

Taxi from our apartment to the Sevilla train station
High speed train from Sevilla to Madrid
Taxi from Madrid train station to Madrid Barajas airport
Flight from Madrid to Frankfurt am Main
Taxi from airport to Frankfurt main train station
[Drink 2 glasses of Apfelwein – traditional Frankfurt drink]
Train from Frankfurt to Würzburg
Walk from train station to hotel in Würzburg (almost freeze to death during 5-minute walk)

Brad and Neely’s holiday adventure can now begin.

We never imagined we’d be eating roast goose, walking through snowflakes in Prague, buying beer shampoo, chatting with a Czech man who learned English from the Mormons, sprinting to catch trains or drinking honey wine in a German’s home on Christmas day . . . but our recent travels through central Europe gave us some incredible surprises.

Würzburg

We began in Bavaria, a state in southern Germany that is home to good beer, uber-friendly natives and idyllic towns. Würzburg was our first stop. Neither of us was completely prepared for the temperatures, but Glühwein – served everywhere we went on our trip – helped us face the cold.

Yes, that’s Celsius, but this was at midday! Amazing that we survived.

Würzburg has a cathedral quarter, old castle, spectacular residence and vineyards on the banks of the Main river, which runs through the city. The city is quite lovely. Brad’s first meal in Germany was obviously in Würzburg, and his deliciously heavy Sauerbraten, Knödeln, Rotkohl and huge beer were a sign that we’d arrived in a yummy food mecca. The expansive Residenz in Würzburg was home to the Würzburg “prince bishops” in the 1700s. We saw many rooms here decorated in Neo Over-the-top style and we spent time gazing at the largest ceiling fresco in the world – it’s over a staircase at the residence.

Inside a cathedral named St. Kilian's Dom; almost every church we visited in Germany had one of these beautiful advent wreaths hanging -- and healthy Christmas trees near the altar of course
Marienkirche (Our Lady's Church) in Würzburg

Rothenburg ob der Tauber

Rothenburg ob der Tauber, population 12,000, was our next destination, and we were charmed instantly. As our guidebook says, “the medieval walled hamlet of Rothenburg just can’t help being so cute.” It really can’t help itself. As you pass through a lovely gate in the town wall, you see happy little buildings, with steep red roofs, lining the small street that leads to the main square. Since it was Christmastime, most businesses had a mini evergreen trees perched on a little iron stand where a flag might normally go.

Street in Rothenburg

The main square has a beautiful clock tower of course – a clock tower or a church with a prominent clock is at the center of every Bavarian village. In Rothenburg, at the stroke of 2 p.m., doors next to the clock open and a very anticlimactic performance occurs. Supposedly, centuries ago, invaders told the mayor of Rothenburg that the town would be spared only if he could drink an entire draft (keg) of beer in one swig. The mayor achieved the impossible feat and this story is “dramatized” when the hour chimes 2 p.m. every day.

City Hall on the left; clock tower on the right

The Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas market) in Rothenburg is wonderful. Every town and city in Germany has a Weihnachtsmarkt in the weeks leading up to Dec. 25. You can buy handmade Christmas ornaments, caramelized nuts, huge gingerbread cookies in the shape of hearts, various local crafts and, of course, food. Brad and I had a “Grillwurst” sandwich on our first night in Rothenburg. The sandwich consist of a brötchen (little bun of bread) and two fat sausages covered in mustard. Brad heard that the two sausages are representative of the two towers of St. Jacobs’s church – the largest church in town.

Items for sale at the Weihnachtsmarkt

Rothenburg is good at celebrating Christmas because it has a famous local chain of stores that sell Christmas stuff year-round. You can’t help but be lured into several of these stores because almost everything is high-quality, handmade and so German. Brad and I bought a special Christmas gift for each other in Rothenburg – a pyramid. It’s an ingenious wooden decoration with fans that turn the center when candles are lit.

Example of a Christmas pyramid

Rothenburg was running over with American and Asian tourists, and I really can’t blame them. At Christmastime, it’s a magical place. One night, Brad and I went on the highly recommended “Night Watchman’s Tour.” Historically the Night Watchman enforced the town curfew, kept watch for potentially destructive fires and apprehended criminals. Today, the Night Watchman rakes in 100s of Euros on busy nights – because he gives his tour in English and German. Even though we were with a massive crowd of Americans, the tour was pretty fascinating and informative. He gave us a little history about Rothenburg from medieval times to today.

Allegedly, just as World War II was nearing its end, the Allied forces had bombed part of Rothenburg and planned to destroy the rest (including the historic center of the town.) The U.S. Undersecretary of State got wind of this plan and went into action. This man had never been to Rothenburg, but his mother had vacationed there once and she had a treasured picture of the walled city hanging in his childhood home; she had always told her son how beautiful it was. The Undersecretary contacted the officer who was waiting with troops just outside Rothenburg; he told the officer to offer the town a deal. The officer told Rothenburg’s mayor that the Allied forces would spare the old town if the mayor would immediately hand over the Rothenburg to the U.S. troops. The mayor complied.

Brad on the town wall, with the spires of St. Jacob's Church in the background. If you’ve seen the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, you remember the scene at the end of the movie when Charlie and Willy Wonka are flying over a town in a glass elevator . . . the town filmed for that scene was Rothenburg

While in Rothenburg, Brad and I went to a stirring organ concert in St. Jacob’s Kirche (church). We also walked around part of the town wall, heard a brass band play at the Weihnachtsmarkt, tried schneeballen (“snowballs” – a crunchy pastry shaped like a snowball) and marveled at the Christmas decorations everywhere. Our time there was especially enjoyable because we stayed at a guesthouse recommended by my “Aunt” Peggy who stays there often. The hosts at this little guesthouse were truly welcoming.

A gate in the medieval town wall
Schneeballen sold here . . . Someone looks hungry!

They may not be wearing lederhosen, but they're still a German brass band!

Felices Fiestas!

2007-12-20T07:42:00.000+01:00

As Brad and I pack for our Christmas and New Year in central Europe, I am thinking of everyone who reads this blog. Whatever holidays you’re celebrating and however you’re celebrating them . . . I’m sending love your way. Brad and I feel very much loved this Christmas. Many friends and family have gotten in touch to wish us well. In lieu of a Christmas tree this year, we have cards (sent from loved ones) taped to a wall. Love them!

Our beautiful cards

Sevilla has prepared us for Christmas in a delightful way. The lights all over the city, the Belén market, Spanish Christmas carols. Last night, Brad and I passed by a department store with a little platform set up outside. No, it wasn’t for Santa. On the decorated platform, seated on a gilded throne, was one of the Reyes! More specifically, it was Balthazar. Children bring letters detailing their gift wishes to the Reyes. Also on the platform was a cheerful red and gold mailbox for the children’s letters.

The Reyes (kings) climbing up someone’s balcony to bring gifts

We’ve been readying ourselves for freezing temps (and possibly snow!) at our Christmas destination. The trip will be romantic, but we’ll miss our dear ones very much. Let me give everyone in our extended families a special shout out. We are in Pamplico, Hannah, Spartanburg, Campbellsville and Cookeville in spirit. Merry Christmas!

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is giv’n;
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heav’n.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.

A festive view of the Giralda

“Canta conmigo, es Navidad”

2007-12-19T00:52:00.000+01:00

Melanie and Brad with nochebuenas in the background (nochebuenas are poinsettias; Noche Buena is Christmas Eve)

Our friend Melanie came to visit. We acted like fools all week. The end.

Melanie is our dear friend from UCLA. She worked hard all quarter (even brought bluebooks to grade) and I’m glad she treated herself to a week in Sevilla before Christmas. Having Melanie here gave us a great excuse to take excursions to Itálica and Huelva, and to discover all the harbingers of Christmas in Sevilla.

We didn’t stray far from Sevilla, but we went to a couple of spots we’ve been wanting to see. Itálica, just a few miles north of Sevilla, is a site of impressive Roman ruins. Did you know that Itálica was the 3rd largest city in the Roman Empire? Yeah, neither did I! The ruins at Itálica include some brightly colored mosaic floors, parts of the city walls, the baths and a huge amphitheater.

Mosaic floors
Amphitheater
Inside the amphitheater; pretend I’m a tiger and Melanie’s a Roman slave – it’s just like the movie Gladiator!
We thought a trip to the beach might be fun in mid-December, so we hopped on a train to Huelva (a town west of Sevilla), then hopped on a bus to Punta Umbría. Oh, you haven’t heard of Punta Umbría? I’m surprised. It’s a tiny beach town on the Atlantic and, in the winter, home to about 200 inhabitants. It seemed like that anyway. The day was also a bit cold, windy and drizzly, so, needless to say, we were probably the only tourists to stop by the tourism office that day. But, we saw the beach, we saw boats and we ate some incredible seafood at a place where the waiter referred to us as “familia.” On our bus ride back to Huelva, we saw dozens of wild flamingos standing in the marshes.

We sure had the beach all to ourselves!

Sevilla also had some adventures in store for us of course. We had memorable interchanges with Pablo, Tito and Sylvie – wait staff at some of the local spots we ate. Tito felt it necessary to give me a grammar and diction lesson every time he came by our table. I finally asked if they served a tapa called “¿Por qué no te calles?” (Why don’t you shut up?) No, I wasn’t being rude – many restaurants recently created a tapa by this name because that’s the question King Juan Carlos asked of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. That sound bite has been broadcast countless times in Spain and people get quite a kick out of it.

Melanie was in Sevilla just in time for some school choir finals – performed outside of our local department store. Four choirs performed traditional Christmas songs for a crowd made up of their school friends, their parents, siblings . . . and the three of us. If hearing children sing Christmas songs doesn’t get you in the holiday spirit, your heart is made of icicles.

I wanted this choir to win, but they were the 1st runners up

The Christmas Belén bonanza in southern Spain gets out of control. We saw Beléns everywhere! Here are some special Belén moments:

A cart full of shrimp, hams, etc. in a Belén scene. Just like the Peruvians dress Mary and Joseph in bowler hats and make the stable out of an ear of corn, the Spanish put all things Spanish in their Nativity scenes. The Jewish community of Bethlehem was probably not eating pork and shellfish, but that doesn’t mean those foods won't be in your Belén.

I don’t know if flamingos (or mallards) were there in Bethlehem 2000 years ago, but they live in southern Spain, and therefore are available for purchase to include in your Belén.

Adviento

2007-12-11T18:52:00.000+01:00

Advent is such a beautiful time in the Christian faith. For me, the essence of Advent is “waiting.” As a Christian, some of my most meaningful encounters with the holy happen at a time when I’m waiting. Waiting for clarity, waiting for guidance, assurance, comfort.

Experiencing a special season like Advent in a different way is one of the cool things about living in another country for a while. Brad and I went to mass on Sunday and I surprised myself by understanding most of the text from the hymns. Part of one hymn is below.

Vamos a preparar el camino del Señor.
Vamos a construir la ciudad de nuestro Dios.
Vendra el Señor con la aurora,
El brillara en la mañana, pregonara la verdad.
Vendra el Señor con su fuerza,
El rompera las cadenas,
El nos dara la libertad . . .

My rudimentary translation of the Spanish:

Let’s prepare a way for the Lord.
Let’s construct a city for our God.
The Lord will come at dawn,
He will shine in the morning; He will proclaim the truth.
The Lord will come with strength,
He will break the chains,
He will give us freedom . . .

Belén, Turrón y Papá Noél

2007-12-06T18:25:00.000+01:00

On a big department store in Sevilla

Christmastime is here! Or, as the 5-foot tall motion-sensor singing/dancing Mexican-Norwegian Santa Claus that Mom gave us would say, “Navidad . . . Navidad . . . Hoy es Navidad.” (Sung to the tune of Jingle Bells.) Downtown Sevilla is filled with lights, store windows are decorated, and that feeling of anticipation is in the air. Advent in Spain feels much different from Advent in the U.S. – mainly because, here, it’s not such a season of frenzied, desperate shopping. (For me, Christmas shopping always feels frenzied – you can imagine the mall parking lot traffic in L.A.)

A view of the main pedestrian/shopping street in Sevilla; in the foreground, you see a man roasting chestnuts
The Ayuntamiento (City Hall)
A window display

From what I can tell, the hottest item to buy in Sevilla this season (and every season I bet) is a Belén. That’s Spanish for “Bethlehem” and it’s what they call a nativity scene or creche. There’s a big Belén market set up for the entire month in one of the big plazas downtown. The market is made up of vendor stalls all selling little figures, little rustic-looking buildings, miniature fruit, bread, mini fried fish. At this market, you can find things that you never dreamed were in Bethlehem – much less in the stable with baby Jesus. Notably: waterfalls, peacocks, pigs being slaughtered, a barefooted man crushing grapes in a big barrel for wine, windmills . . .

Items for sale at the market – check out the miniature cat catching mouse (bottom left corner)
A vendor/realtor; "We've got your basic stable - 2 sticks holding up some brush - and we've got a studio, the 2-bedroom condo and the condo with stable addition. Now, if you ask me, your best value is going to be the split-level with covered patio."

Our dinky little Nativity scenes in the U.S. have nothing on the Nativity scenes here.
This . . .
. . . Versus this. (When there's a waterfall, it's simply no contest)

Papá Noél (Santa Claus) is a part of Christmas in Spain, but I’m not sure if he’s just a character that they borrowed from the U.S. They’ve seen all our dumb Christmas movies, so they know how American movie families celebrate the holidays. The “Reyes” (Kings, a.k.a. the three wise men) put gifts in the shoes of Spanish children on Epiphany, which is 12 days after Christmas (the real Twelve Days of Christmas). In the Christian calendar, Epiphany is the day the Magi arrived in Bethlehem.

The Adoration of the Magi by Diego Velazquez

It’s surprising how familiar many of the Christmas decorations look here. At one of my favorite stores, Casa, the following items are on sale: reindeer candle holders, snowman nightlights, stockings, Santa Claus Advent calendars and (ick) pillows embroidered with “Merry Christmas.” I know that many of our Christmas traditions, like putting a tree inside one’s house, come from pagan cultures of ancient Germany. And, of course St. Nicholas and the reindeer come from Lapland or somewhere. But, so much has become tackified and commercial. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my special tacky decorations at home. Mostly I will miss the ritual of hanging all our beautiful, funny and meaningful Christmas tree ornaments.

Turrón, a sweet confection made mostly of crushed almonds, is a special Christmas tradition in Spain

The most important part of Christmas is something we luckily won’t have to miss out on in Europe. Spiked eggnog!!! Just kidding. I’m talking about church of course – the reason for the season, etc. We plan to attend many services and sacred music performances. I imagine that Christmas Eve will be mysterious and holy no matter what language the hymns are in.

Tarjetas de Residencia

2007-11-30T14:46:00.000+01:00

We’re officially temporary residents of Spain! We picked up our residency cards today, after filling out many forms, making many trips to a government office in Sevilla and waiting many days. Having these cards is necessary because we only have 3-month visas and the card is valid until July. My tarjeta (card) includes my basic info and describes me as, “Familiar de Estudiante,” family of a student.

I feel more and more a “resident” here in Sevilla. One day, on the street, I gave someone directions in Spanish. I have my favorite shops and bars. I go often to a church in our neighborhood – just to stand with the handful of people in the quiet courtyard, look up at the simple cross on the wall, breathe a few prayers and cross myself.

This week also treated me to more-than-the-usual number of social opportunities with Spaniards. I had intercambios on Tuesday and Wednesday. My intercambio partners were charming, but my Spanish skills seem to be in a free-fall. Last night, Brad and I met over a dozen researchers (working at the archive with him) at a bar near the Murillo gardens. Some of them spoke English, but I tried to tune into their Spanish conversations. As I chatted with a nutty girl named Magdalena, I asked, “Puedo hablo en español sin verbos?” That’s an (incorrect) way of saying, “Can I speak in Spanish without verbs?” She laughed and said, “Yeah, It will be like a telegraph! Food [stop] very good [stop] bar nearby [stop].”

Brad got to spend time with one of his favorite Spaniards, Profesora Manyé, this week and I tagged along. Profesora Manyé (de Barcelona) was Brad’s undergraduate advisor and she was visiting Sevilla with a gaggle of Furman students doing a study abroad in Madrid. We met Profesora Manyé, her husband, Wayne (de Maine), and their 2 girls at their hotel in town – the same hotel Brad stayed in 6 years ago when he did study abroad. After going out for coffee with them, I volunteered to babysit the girls while Brad took Manyé and Wayne out for tapas.

Brad enjoying some sherry with his Profesora

After tapas, they returned to herd the students off to the late flamenco show in Santa Cruz. Manyé had invited Brad and me to go with her and about 20 students to the show. Before departing the hotel, Manyé introduced Brad and me to the tired, but curious students. Little did they know that Manyé was going to giving a energetic talk that could have been titled, Brad: A Brief History. Brad is very fortunate to have a great supporter and friend in Manyé. I was delighted to spend an evening with her family. At one point, her 4-year-old, who is fluent in English, Spanish and Catalán (a language spoken around Barcelona), asked me, “Do you speak inglés?” I said, “Yes, and un poco español.”

Viajes con los Padres

2007-11-27T09:27:00.000+01:00

Introducción

Mom and Dad continue to entertain and baffle me with their questions and comments about everything. (That is, if I don’t already know what they’re going to say – they are sooo predictable.) During their time in Spain, Brad and I fielded some of the most off-the-wall, silly and simply crazy questions from them. We also were audience to some of the most painful and obscenely incorrect pronunciations of Spanish words by Dad. (Here’s the beginners course in Spanish pronunciation: fajita and quesadilla.) So, without further ado, I will tell of our adventures without mentioning any choice comments from my parents. Just use your imagination.

Cordoba

Our first stop on our tour of southern Spain was Cordoba, a lovely city just up the river from Sevilla. Cordoba used to be a very powerful caliphate that controlled the western half of the Islamic world. The most notable thing in Cordoba is the Mezquita (mosque). Building began on the mosque in the 700s and it is massive. At one time, 50,000 believers would pray, facing towards Mecca, in the mosque.

Inside the Mezquita

Even though, over the course of history, Spain has thrown out the Muslims (Moors) and Jews, they now celebrate these incredible cultures. Just like the Jewish Quarter in Sevilla (Santa Cruz), the Jewish quarter in Cordoba is beautiful and located right in the heart of the city. While in Cordoba, We visited one of only 3 surviving synogauges in Spain. (We saw another synagogue in Toledo in September.) We also visited the Moorish baths – a spot that, hundreds of years ago, was central to Moorish social life.

The Spainards obviously realized the importance and beauty of the huge Mezquita in Cordoba, so they didn’t tear it down. But, they did build a Catholic cathedral in the middle of it. I don’t know if that’s horrible or really cool. To be honest, in my opinion, it’s cool. I love those places of worship that have been used by different faiths over the centuries. I think that St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul are both examples of multi-purpose houses of worship. Every major faith has so much to offer the world.

Úbeda

Úbeda was a little nugget of a town. The center of the town is filled with Renaisance architecture. The edges of town offer incredible views of olive groves as far as the eye can see.

Los Olivos

Dad chose Úbeda partly because of the beautiful parador there. The Spanish government owns paradors all over Spain – these are typically old castles, mansions, monastaries, that have been converted into grand hotels. I truly felt like royalty in our unbelivable room.

Either I took some shrinking pills, or our room was HUGE

Other treats in Úbeda included: yummy salmorejo (a cold tomato soup that I love), stray but cute dogs, great pottery shops and the nice slow pace of the town.

Granada

According to Brad, our word “pomegranate” is a corruption of the French phrase "apple of Granada" – pomegranates and depictions of them are everywhere in this city

What is the most visited site in all of Spain? The Alhambra in Granada. And it’s beautiful in the Fall. The Alhambra is one of those spots that is impossible to sufficiently describe in words. If I was playing word association and someone said “Alhambra,” I would say, “mystery, reflection, awe.”

Over the centuries, the Alhambra has been used as a Moorish palace, soldiers’ barracks, a fortress, a prison and a home for gypsies and Washington Irving. Granada was the last kingdom in Spain to be taken by the Christians (specifically Isabel and Ferdinand) in 1492. With a fortress like the Alhambra, I can see why it took them 10 years to conquer Granada. The military towers of the old fortress were not what drew me in, though – it was the gardens, Generalife.

Generalife

The Alhambra is a fountain-lovers dream. There are pools of water so still that facades of the palace are reflected perfectly in the water; there are rushing streams of water that flow down the banisters on either side of an outdoor staircase; there are tiny bubbling fountains that send trickles of water to connected pools in hidden parts of the garden. The most famous fountain in the Alhambra is in the “Court of Lions” in the Nasrid Palace. Unfortunately, the lions have been removed for a 7-year restoration.

The 4-level banister fountain

I won’t try to continue with my insufficient descriptions.

View from the Alhambra; all you can say is, “Ah, Granada . . .”

While in Granada, Brad and I went to the chapel of the Granada Cathedral because that’s where Isabel and Ferdinand are buried! Yes, the Isabel who decided to let Columbus make that crazy voyage in 1492. For a colonial Mexican historian, this visit was pretty awesome. Queen Isabel was quite religious. Some of the scenes carved on the main altarpiece in the chapel are of her favorite saints. We also got to see her personal Bible, which is an exquisite illuminated manuscript. Oh, and her collection of religious paintings by some of the most famous Dutch and Italian painters of her time are there too. Isabel and Ferdinand are known as the “Reyes Catholicos” (Catholic monarchs) and it was they who expelled the Jews from Spain in 1492 (with the Alhambra Decree.)

Ronda

We celebrated Thanksgiving in Ronda. Brad and I already knew we loved Ronda from previous short visits, but this time was especially nice. Thanksgiving dinner was yummy even though we didn’t have turkey and dressing. (I haven’t seen turkey anywhere since we’ve lived in Spain.) Ronda is built on a deep gorge and we had a great view over the cliff from our table.

View of the valley below Ronda

Our little hotel in Ronda is a converted mansion with adorable rooms and super friendly staff. They even had a mini movie theatre and a little wine cellar/bodega.

Our bed

We happened to meet some Americans – more importantly, Southerners – at the hotel. They were good friends with the owners of the hotel and they’ve been visiting Ronda for years. One couple even owns a little house in Ronda. The other couple lives in Mexico, in one of the most charming colonial silver towns in the center of the country. When they found out that Brad spends a lot of time in Mexico City, they insisted that we contact them next time we’re there.

After lunch, we ran into our new friends again, and they introduced us to their Spanish friend, who owns a local cafe, and his son, who is a matador. (That’s when Mom got those 2 kisses on the cheek.) Pretty cool to meet a matador in the city most famous for bullfighting in all of Spain.

As I’ve said before, Spain is full of surprises. I’m so glad that Mom and Dad got to experience that first-hand. Thanks for coming Mom and Dad!

Otro té, por favor

2007-11-24T13:53:00.000+01:00

In the courtyard of orange trees outside the Mezquita (mosque) in Cordoba

We just deposited Mom and Dad in a taxi and told the driver, “aeropuerto.” I must jot down some of our adventures now before I forget all the wonderful things we did. Our visit with Mom and Dad was excellent – we really had an Andalucían bonanza. I am so proud of Mom and Dad for many things: for taking a much-needed and deserved vacation to Europe, for truly adhering to the Spanish schedule, for trying tons of Spanish cuisine, for exploring new cities, and for speaking “Spanish.”

Yes, they tried to speak Spanish. This Fall, Mom audited a Spanish class at the local college, and about 8 years ago, Dad spent a week in the Dominican Republic. Needless to say, they were quite proficient. Mom could ask “How much?” and she understood numbers, so she could shop with relative ease. Dad could ask for the check at restaurants and he learned how to say “te” and “leche” within hours of his arrival. Dad drank his weight in tea everyday. I also noticed that if any Spaniard directed a question or a comment at Dad, he would simply smile, raise his eyebrows and say, “Muy buen!” As you can imagine, Mom and Dad charmed everyone they met. Including the handsome young matador we met in Ronda – he kissed Mom on both cheeks and said, “Encantado.” But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s begin in Sevilla.

Upon Mom and Dad’s arrival in Sevilla, we dove into the schedule of long, late lunches and tapas at night. We ate and ate and ate. On Brad’s b-day, we went to the cathedral and then to a Spanish cooking school for lunch. Later, we walked around the Plaza de España and we rented a “cyclobus” to cruise around the park.

At the Plaza de España . . . aren’t they cute? 34 years together and they've never had a fight!

On our cyclobus, a.k.a. a bicycle built for four

We also had to go out for tapas in Santa Cruz, tour the Alcázar, walk along the river and wander around local plazas. One night in Seville, we were strolling by a statue of the virgin near the cathedral, and we suddenly heard music. It was a Tuna!

In Spain and Latin America, Tunas are musical groups made up of guys from universities. They wander the streets in distinctive garb, strumming guitars and singing love songs and folk tunes. It just so happened that some sort of Tuna competition was going on the night we were wandering Sevilla. If I could have arranged it, I would have, because Mom was in heaven.

A Tuna

We watched 2 Tunas perform for the virgin (the statue in the square.) They sang songs about lost love, plazas in Sevilla, and Spanish pride. A couple of guys did a fancy dance that involved smacking your body with a tambourine while jumping around. Seeing the Tuna perform was a fantastic surprise.

After our days in Sevilla, it was time to hit the road in a rental car. We traveled to Cordoba, Úbeda, Granada and Ronda. It was nice for Mom and Dad to really immerse themselves in Andalucía for the duration of their trip. Travel in Spain can be overwhelming because there are so many amazing places in the country and each province has a unique personality. If you spend a week in Andalucía, you’re likely to drink sherry, see tons of Moorish architecture, countless olive groves, and pass by a toothless farmer leading a donkey through town. Dad had painstakingly researched the towns, hotels and sights on our trip. Therefore, everything was great! Details to come . . .

Oh, the places we will go . . .

Feliz Cumpleaños Brad!

2007-11-16T08:30:00.000+01:00

Today is a special day for my cariño! Brad turns 27 today and he still looks great. I've had the pleasure of celebrating Brad's b-day with him since he turned 20 - like good cheese, he keeps getting better with age!

Since we don’t have an oven here, I couldn’t make Brad a birthday cake, but many of you know that I don’t usually bake anyway. I picked up a cake at our local bakery and we enjoyed it on Monday . . . Our friend, Allison, celebrated her 45th birthday on Monday. We cooked a delicious feast of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and biscuits! With champagne to drink of course.

The bakery gave me those candles!

We plan to celebrate today by enjoying Sevilla with my parents and eating yummy Spanish cuisine. I imagine Brad’s birthday wish is to eat lots of ham.

Happy Birthday to Brad!

J. R. R. Tolkien was here.

2007-11-12T08:45:00.000+01:00

Brad again. Wait! Don’t go! I know I’m not as funny as Neely, but she keeps bugging me to write again. So here I am. I’ll understand if you feel the urge to nap while reading; happens to my students too.

I don’t know how many of you read/saw Lord of the Rings, but at one point, two of the little hobbits lament the fact that some of the others in their group haven’t heard of “second breakfast.” Well, the Spaniards certainly have. I have my “second breakfast” here everyday, and it is one of the great joys of living in Spain.

Now, let’s all be clear: I never skip first breakfast. But coffee and a few cookies at dawn doesn’t last long, and all that sixteenth-century handwriting really works up an appetite. And everyone knows that you can’t get lunch in Spain until 2:00 or 3:00 pm. So what do you do when you’re in the archive around 10:30 or 11:00 and you’re hungry? You go have breakfast (again).

And you’re not alone. No, no. Spain is a social place.

When I first got here, I only knew one person to go have second breakfast with: Rob (he also has a Fulbright and studies colonial Mexico). But then we met a professor from Virginia, and she started going with us. And then we had a breakthrough—we met a Spaniard. This Spaniard (Juan) is a grad student in the US but also a native of Sevilla. He’s very well connected. Through him, we’ve met almost everyone that’s been in the archive for any length of time at all. And we all go have second breakfast together nearly everyday.

We’re quite a diverse group. There are the three Americans that I’ve mentioned, plus two Frenchies, a Mexican or two, a Moroccan, two more Americans (Californians, if you can believe it), and a handful of Spaniards (Basques, Andaluces, Valencianos, etc.). We’re like the United Nations of the Archive. We conduct all of our official business in Castilian Spanish, but everyone reserves the right to the occasional outburst in his or her native tongue, be it French, English, Arabic, or heavily-accented Andalucian Spanish.

One of the first international disturbances in our miniature League of Nations was the choice of restaurant. It is widely known that there is a very good coffee shop around the corner, behind the archive, called La Rayuela. The toast and coffee is delicious and cheap, the service is friendly and efficient, and there are no tourists (even though, like in Lord of the Rings, most tourists have never heard of second breakfast). Why one would want to go anywhere else is beyond me. But some of the Spaniards thought that a little touristy cafe right next door to the archive would be better, even though the service is awful and they give you less food for higher prices! After a couple of days of this, the American delegation pushed (successfully) for a return to the Rayuela. Thank goodness.

The Rayuela is typical of many Spanish coffee shops. The toast that I’ve mentioned is almost the only thing that they serve. But oh, the stuff they put on top of it! You can get olive oil if you’re feeling healthy, and maybe crushed tomatoes. Or some butter and jelly. Or . . . and this is my favorite . . . HAM. Not any of that boiled stuff either (though it is available if you want it), but good ol’ cured SERRANO HAM. If you’re feeling really decadent, you can even get ham pâté. Spain is amazing.

Viva second breakfast.

El Rio

2007-11-11T22:24:00.000+01:00

Torro de Oro (Tower of Gold) on the Rio Guadalquivir

Spending time down by the river here always makes me wistful. I love the water – I love rivers, lakes, streams, fountains and puddles. I’ve always hoped to live by the water. Happily, our apartment in Sevilla is only a few meters away from the Rio Guadalquivir.

After our siesta hour, Brad and I often go to the path along the river; he runs, I walk. At twilight, the river is beautiful. As you walk down the steps from the street level to the river, millions of glass shards littering the concrete sparkle in the sunset. The broken glass is the remnants of botellones, groups of teenagers who congregate by the river at night to drink.

The air by the river is not quite as dry as the rest of the city, and there’s always a slight breeze blowing. The water is relatively still. Large ships stopped coming this far up the Guadalquivir long ago, and the river hasn’t been dredged in ages. The only vessels you see cruising the river are occasional double level tour boats and the slender, quiet boats of rowers. Every now and then, you hear the wet flop of a fish jumping.

The walkway along the river is called “Paseo del Rey Juan Carlos I.” Juan Carlos I is the current (and quite admirable and popular) king of Spain. Many Sevillanos stroll, jog, walk their dogs and bike along the river. Many people also enjoy sitting on the banks of the river to fish, gaze at the river or make out. The city planted countless oleander bushes on the banks of the river – in between the walking path and the water. On the other side of the path, there are intervals of trees and intermittent wide sets of stairs leading up to the street.

I enjoy looking at the graffiti that adorns the tall concrete walls alongside the stairs. Graffiti is a fascinating art form because the artists are ostensibly untrained and some of the art is brilliant. Also, anyone could alter, enhance or deface the images at any time. Much of the graffiti is clearly humorous or serious social commentary or a display of bravado. A few of my favorite images are below.

Some other characters by the river include the resident riverbank cats who often dart across the path in front of you, and the armies of frenzied bats flying, just over your head, at sunset – catching mosquitoes.

The bridges over the river are famous (to me anyway) and we live within walking distance of these 3 pretty ones.

One of the bridges closet to us. It was built for the 1992 world expo in Sevilla. At night, the lights along the bridge make it look as if it’s lit with candelight.

Also built for the 1992 expo – I love this bridge because it looks like a giant harp tilted sideways.

The Triana bridge – the most iconic bridge in Sevilla. Triana is an old, picturesque neighborhood across the river.

Walking along the river is a beautiful way to commune with nature and escape the noisy hectic streets of the city. And a way to check out Spanish hotties who jog there.

Dos Meses en España

2007-11-06T09:40:00.000+01:00

Things I've Learned:

Time flies
What rabo de toro (tail of the bull) tastes like
A Spanish children’s song about Jesus
How Pasa Palabra, my favorite game show, works
A Big Mac tastes like the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten – if you haven’t eaten a real burger in months
Approximately how much a breakfast of cafe con leche and a media tostada con tomate y aceite should cost
The verb “quedar” can be used about 6 different ways
The correct way to use the phrase puta madre!
Some American movies come out in Spain long before they come out in the US
Fried camembert is pure heaven
I forgot to pack sweaters
Real Betis is better than Sevilla in futbol
It takes about a month to get Internet installed here
20% of the words in Spanish originated from Arabic
Marble floors + high ceilings + no direct sunlight = cold apartment
How much a haircut costs
Where my favorite view of the sunset in Sevilla is
There’s a tapas bar in Triana with killer fried eggplant
In 1981, a failed military coup occurred in Spain
Spaniards express emotional easily – with little prompting, they yell in anger, cry tears of sadness or happiness and they laugh a lot

Otoño

2007-11-02T14:18:00.000+01:00

Autumn has finally arrived in Sevilla! We don’t see any leaves changing colors and we haven’t participated in any football tailgatin’, but there’s finally a briskness in the air. In Sevilla, you know it’s Fall when the cafes stop serving Tinto de Verano (“Summer Red”: red wine and tonic, on ice) and gazpacho (tomatoes are no longer in season.)

Fall is my favorite season. My favorite spot in the world to enjoy Fall is the Great Smokey Mountains – por supuesto! However, I’m really enjoying the cloudless blue skies and fresh air in Sevilla this year. And, in Spain we won’t have to miss out on that special fall holiday: Halloween. Halloween is to Spain as Cinco de Mayo is to the U.S.: a reason for people to go out drinking without knowing anything about the history of the day they’re celebrating. What’s wrong with that?

Kids don’t trick or treat here, but teenagers dress up and party. Brad and I decided to buy tickets for a party organized by my language program; it was advertised as a “Terrorifico” Halloween party on a boat. The party began around midnight and went until dawn. Brad and I didn’t last until dawn; we left the fiesta when the boat docked around 4 a.m.

One of my most restrained Halloween costumes to date, but I look creepy nonetheless, don’t you think? And, I’m rockin my new chic haircut!

Detail of the stockings

At the party, we chatted with some other students from my language program, and there were hundreds of real Spaniards there too. The DJ was great and many people were costumed and really enjoying themselves. I found myself yelling, “DONDE VIVES EN SEVILLA?” and other elementary sentences in Spanish, all night. At one point, I got the chance to ask a Swiss guy why Swiss guys are so tall. He said it was all the calcium in the chocolate they eat. Two German girls from my class were at the party and they had carved little pumpkins and brought them! One of them also had a “life”-sized skeleton balloon as her date. They are hillarious.

November 1 is Todos los Santos (All Saints Day) in Spain, another national holiday when everything is closed. Brad and I celebrated Todos los Santos by enjoying a homemade lunch at a friend’s apartment in Triana. And, we went to Isla Magica with my fun German girlfriends. At the Halloween party, they invited us to join them at Isla Magica, a theme park across the river from our neighborhood, and we jumped at the chance.

Isla Magica supposedly chronicals Spain’s conquests in the New World – through rides like roller coasters and carousels. For example, on one ride called “El Cyclón,” there’s a big Aztec head sculpture in the middle of the ride. Learning about Spanish history at an amusement park? I can get into that!

Isla Magica

Our afternoon there was especially great because it was an absolutely perfect Fall day, and my friends, Stephi and Christina are such fun. They are living in Sevilla for the year as au pairs for a Swiss family. And, they’re both certified nurses, so they’re really sweet just like all the nurses I know. After Isla Magica, we went out for some yummy tapas before they had to go home. We laughed all afternoon and evening with them.

I plan to continue enjoying Fall by spending many hours outdoors. And we’ll get to celebrate the bounty of the harvest, a.k.a. Thanksgiving, with Mom and Dad. As for what I’m missing in the U.S., John keeps me posted on college football news and I hope the rest of y’all will enjoy the fall colors for me.

Novias

2007-10-27T11:53:00.000+02:00

A bride and groom having their wedding photos taken at the Alcázar in Sevilla

In Spain, I think about Candice (my sister-in-law) often because the city has numerous bridal boutiques and I often see brides getting pictures taken at picturesque spots here. (Candice is getting married this summer.) One Sevilla plaza in particular is fittingly filled with both bridal boutiques and children’s clothing stores. Check out this shop window:

They often have a mother-of-the-bride dress next to the bridal gown on display – Charlene, have you found yours yet?

We also often see decked-out wedding guests, shiny cars decorated for the newlyweds, etc., because we visit little pueblos on Saturdays, and the cathedral is typically the most important site to visit in a Spanish town.

A wedding taking place inside the cathedral in Cadiz

On our Saturday afternoon in Cadiz, we planted ourselves at a cafe across the plaza from the beautiful cathedral. In the time it took us to drink a few glasses of sangria, we saw 3 separate weddings get underway.

On the steps of the cathedral

Candice, I can’t wait to celebrate your wedding day!

No Aprendiendo la Lengua

2007-10-26T14:07:00.000+02:00

Even in Spain, sometimes I have bad days. There are those rare days when I can only see the ugly—I only smell cigarette smoke and car exhaust, I only hear the noisy engines of mopeds whizzing by, I step in dog poop on the sidewalk and everyone seems to be scowling.
Current mood: sad (and fragile)

The bad days tend to coincide with my bad days in Spanish class. I have now taken 4 weeks of intensive Spanish and I feel very frustrated. Today we had a test and I bombed it. I still don’t know which verb tense to use when and the irregular verbs are killing me. Last night I had to confess to Brad that I didn’t actually know how to say “to be” in Spanish. Embarrassing.

It is impossible to acquire a new language in mere weeks – even months. But . . . that means I have to work at this for years??? (Sigh) Even geniuses like Brad need years to become fluent in a language, but I’ve always had the feeling that I’m not the brightest crayon in the language acquisition box. Learning Spanish is important to me because language and culture are always completely intertwined.

I am more than happy to be prayed for, if anyone wishes to do so. We don’t have a faith community over here yet and that makes it tough. However, my psychic partner, Mom, always knows how to cheer me on. Just today (just in time) I received a letter from Mom and a West African saying is written on the card: Not to know is bad . . . but not to wish to know is worse.

El Fin de Semana

2007-10-23T20:47:00.001+02:00

As I mentioned in an earlier post, our friend Pavel is staying with us for a few days. His ankle is on the mend from a soccer injury, so we had an excuse to finally try out the city bikes.

In September, Sevilla implemented a bike sharing system. Throughout the city, you see little stations with bikes locked up. For a few euros, you can get a 7-day pass (or a year-long pass) and check the bikes in and out. We have a little bike station on our corner. So, we just grab a bike, cruise over to the Plaza Nueva, river, cathedral, etc. and park the bike at the stations there.

B on his bici
On Friday we went out for tapas in Santa Cruz (old Jewish barrio.)

Pavel, Brad and Rob at Las Teresas, a tapas bar in Santa Cruz – the calamares and croquettas here are to die for! (Those are cured hams hanging from the ceiling)

Saturday, we decided to take our day trip to Cadiz. From Sevilla, it’s a 2-hour bus ride. We saw the beach – and most of town – from the top of an open-air “turibus.” Cadiz is a town on a teeny peninsula that sticks out into the Atlantic. Needless to say, it has historically been a valuable port. Most notably, Cadiz is . . . drum roll please . . . the oldest city in Europe!

Cadiz . . .
La playaLa cathedral

We only spent a few hours there, and we hope to return. We heard about a night train that goes from Sevilla to Cadiz during Carnival. Cadiz during Carnival is like New Orleans Mardi Gras – crazy fun and crazy expensive to stay in a hotel.

To finish out our weekend, on Sunday, we three went to the Festival of Nations – a temporary festival at the Parque Maria Luisa (beautiful city park.) We had gyros for lunch from the Egypt tent. We then set out for the soccer stadium – Betis was playing Real Satander (those are soccer teams for those of you don’t already know.)

Betis player

As we neared the stadium, everyone who passed us was wearing green and white (Betis colors) and most of them were yelling and/or drinking. I was getting so excited. We squeezed through the crowds outside the stadium to get up to the ticket counter . . . And the cheapest seats were just too expensive for us. We didn't go to the game. Muy triste! We felt a bit defeated and extremely hot. Man, it is still hot in Andalucia!

Anyway, that’s life. I bet the bullfights are cheaper anyway. Soccer here is like U.S. football and bullfights are like baseball. That’s my inexpert opinion.

Aprendiendo la Lengua

2007-10-19T18:56:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, I needed to exchange a light bulb at the store because I’d purchased one earlier that day, and the base was too large for my new lamp. And, I explained this situation to the store clerk entirely in Spanish. Ta da!

It’s important to revel in the small language victories. For example, when a Spaniard asks me a question and I understand what they say, it’s a victory. When I know the correct preposition or adjective to use in a sentence, it’s a victory. When I can compose a sentence in my head, it’s a victory.

This person is probably at the same language level as me

My classes have been extremely helpful. We are now learning the 2nd out of 4 past verb tenses. Yippee! I can say, “I lived in New Orleans.” Vivé en Nueva Orleans. It’s really annoying to say “I live in New Orleans 2 years past.” “I live in South Carolina, but now I live in Los Angeles.”

Because I am fully committed to learning the language, I am committed to watching TV. Cooking shows are especially helpful. The host of the show tells you what he’s doing as he’s doing it: “Now, I take the 5 raw anchovies and place them on the roasted red peppers and onions. Next, I pour approximately 100 grams of olive oil on the fish and garnish with 3 french fries.”

One of my favorite shows

Spain shows tons of American shows and movies – C.S.I., Grey’s Anatomy, The Simpsons, etc. But, they dub everything into Spanish. Sometimes it’s really annoying, but I actually like The Simpsons better in Spanish. When the little Spanish voice for Marge says "Oh, Homie!" it's so cute.

Remember that movie, Witness, with Harrison Ford about the Amish kid who witnesses a murder? (It came out in the 80s.) Anyway, EVERYONE in Spain saw Witness. But, there’s no Spanish word for Amish, so in the movie, Amish was dubbed as Mormon. Years ago, when Mormon missionaries would try to mission in Spain, the Spaniards said “But, I don’t want to give up electricity!” Because they had seen Witness. Seriously.

Anyone will tell you that the most important part of learning a language is just getting out there and speaking it with natives. My Aunt Susan encourages me to simply strike up a conversation with the old woman next to me in the market while buying bread . . . I haven’t gotten to this level quite yet.

However, Brad, Rob and I went out for tapas recently with Paulina – a Mexican girl about our age who is researching at the School of Latin American Studies here. I practiced my cumbersome Spanish with her and she was quite courteous (typical Mexican.) She’s here until December, so I’ll definitely have to use her for practice -er- go out with her again. And, we have a friend, Pavel, staying with us this weekend who is also Mexican. Pavel is married to one of Brad’s UCLA amigas. I get to show him Sevilla in Spanish!

Next step: intercambios. An intercambio is simply 2 people getting together to practice speaking a new language. Through my program, I can get the name of a Spaniard who is learning English and I simply call them and say, “Hola, quieres . . .” Okay, I don’t know the Spanish word for “to meet.” As soon as I learn that word, I’ll get an intercambio partner and we’ll go for coffee.

Día de la Hispanidad

2007-10-15T18:26:00.000+02:00

We celebrated our first Spanish national holiday this past weekend: el Día de la Hispanidad. Every October 12, Spain has a 2-in-1 holiday. They celebrate the day of the Virgin Pilar, who is the patron virgin of Spain, and they celebrate the day Columbus discovered the Americas. I didn’t really know what to expect on our day off – other than our supermarket being closed.

Brad and I had a visitor, Cathleen, stay with us for the holiday weekend. (Cathleen has a Fulbright to teach school in Madrid this year, and we met her during the orientation week there.) As we were preparing our apartment for lunch on Friday with Cathleen and Rob (Rob is Brad’s fellow researcher), we heard loud drumming outside our building. We rushed downstairs and found a parade passing right in front of our building at that very moment.

The small parade was led by the Virgin of Pilar – a sculpted virgin clothed in beautiful fabric, and surrounded by white flowers – on top of a wooden platform. Behind the virgin was a brass band playing a melancholy, but rhythmic tune. Watching the parade slowly pass by for those few minutes was quite magical.

The parade was heading to this church, just 2 blocks away from our apartment; where the virgin resides when she’s not leading parades.

Close up of the Madonna on this church; I especially like this one because Mary is crouching down with Jesus

Having our first visitor in Sevilla was a good excuse for us to finally see 2 of the biggest sights in the city: the cathedral/Giralda (tower) and the Real Alcázar (royal fortress).

Cathleen, Brad and Rob in front of the cathedral

The cathedral was first built as a mosque in the 12th century and just a few decades later it was consecrated as a cathedral. It has been added to, embellished and generally "duded up" for centuries. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: that cathedral is freaking huge.

Sevilla is flat. So, climbing to the top of the Giralda in the cathedral is a nice way to see the entire city from up high.

One view from the Giralda; you can see just a snippet of the river in the background

The Real Alcázar was extraordinary! The palace and gardens are so expansive that I didn’t even try to see everything. When I get my residency card, I can go there for free and I plan to do so often. The Real Alcázar is another example of a Spanish structure that’s been around since the Moors. As you can see, the Moorish architecture is striking.

Muslims do not depict humans or animals in art, so the entire Moorish part of the palace is covered in countless intricate wood carvings and colorful mosaic designs. If you stare at those designs long enough, you really go to another level . . . like . . . mentally . . .

Taken during hour 3 of Neely's mosaic trance . . .

At the Real Alcázar, you wander into a different room and suddenly you've gone from 12th century Moorish Spain to Christian/Gothic Spain. These ballrooms are painted yellow with white trim, a gilded Madonna is hanging on the wall and incredibly detailed tapestries of Spain’s discovery of the Americas are on display. And then there’s a random cross-eyed merman.

Merman

Our weekend with Cathleen also involved lots of delicious local cuisine, wandering around Santa Cruz and Triana, and lengthy discussions on peculiarities in Spain. It starts to feel like home when you get to show your first visitor around your new city.

Plaza de los Niños

2007-10-11T17:08:00.001+02:00

“Is there any country in the world where children are so well cared for, so well dressed and groomed?”
from In Spain by Ted Walker

Whenever I wander around Sevilla, I see beautiful young children and babies in beautiful clothes. Children all over the world are beautiful, but the caretakers of children in Spain seem to truly cherish and indulge their children by allowing them to be children.

One of the countless children's clothing shops in Sevilla – check out these fall fashions!
The name of this shoe store is Little Blue Horse

As I mentioned in an earlier post, children get to stay up late here. A group of 6 or 7-year-olds children may be kicking around a soccer ball as you are enjoying your 2nd glass of wine, sitting outside a cafe, in one of the countless little plazas here. And, you tend to see children with pacifiers or in strollers and think, “Isn’t she a bit too old for that?” Not in Spain.

Children are also indulged by their relatives. A typical Spaniard stays close to home his entire life, so many families live in the same city or town as their grandparents and aunts and uncles. I often see what looks like 3 generations – a baby, her mother and her grandmother strolling around town together.

Inside a cafe

Speaking of strolling, the baby carriages are even souped up here. Most strollers and baby buggies have a soft, plush cushion tied into the seat, to cradle baby or toddler.

The stereotypical frumpy mom (split ends, no makeup and wearing an Old Navy track suit) does not exist in Spain. Look how fierce this mom is - she is working it!

In one of the plazas closest to our apartment, there is a small play area which gets very popular around 7 or 8 p.m. every night. I call this plaza “Plaza de los Niños” (The Children’s Plaza.) Watching children play at this plaza is a delight for me. A large plaza in the center of town called Plaza Nueva is also full of children playing every night.

Seeing very young and very old people together is quite common in Spain. When walking around our little neighborhood at night, we may see a group of 5 old friends – in their 80s – chatting on a bench in a plaza, a couple of middle-aged women meeting for an after-work drink in a neighborhood bar, a small herd of teenagers passing by – destination unknown, and a family of 5 – with their baby buggy leading the crew across a cobblestoned street.

I love it when I’m heading home, it’s late and I’m tired; I look into a bar as I pass by, and I see a lively family gathering with the baby in his stroller parked right next to the table. He doesn't have to miss out on all the fun just because he's 18 mo.s old.

Nuestro Barrio

2007-10-09T15:26:00.001+02:00

Map of Sevilla; we live in the San Vicente area (sunburned flesh color)

For those of you who remember the meaning of “baño” from your high school Spanish classes, you may think we live on “Bathroom Street.” It’s actually “Baths Street.” And when in Spain, don’t ask where the baño is (like I did for 2 weeks) . . . they say “aseos” or “servicios.”

A street sign

Some inquiring minds may want to know more about our little home in Sevilla – specifically what we see out of our windows. Apparently the first photos I posted of our piso led readers to believe that we have no windows and perhaps live in an old Moorish wine cellar. We actually have 4 windows and lots of natural light. This is our view:

Our courtyard: it’s not sexy, but we just leave home if we need to see some excitement

So it’s not a view of the cathedral or the river, but it’s fine. Having interior courtyard views means that we do not live over the street and listen to traffic and tipsy hoodlums all night. Our little street (and I mean little – it’s one-way and I’ve almost had my hand taken off by the side mirror on a car speeding by) gets very busy, but I like it. Some scenes from our street:

A produce store

The cafe bar next door to our building

The plaza closest to our apartment

The streets in Sevilla are mostly tiny and windy. As you wander down the little cobblestoned streets around the city, you might see a stray dog, an old man looking out his window, a mother escorting two children in their school uniforms and a catholic church squeezed in between the other 3 or 4-story buildings that line the street.

Typical street in Sevilla

I especially like to look into the open doors of apartment buildings or homes. I will almost always see a beautifully tiled entryway opening to a beautiful interior courtyard. Typical Spanish architecture. The front of a home may be shuttered up and seemingly impenetrable, but inside is a courtyard, open to the sky, that all the rooms open onto. I’m reminded of the huge homes in the French Quarter of New Orleans that have the same ingenious design.

Example of the ubiquitous tiles you see all over Sevilla

Archivo General de Indias

2007-10-07T11:20:00.000+02:00

Hey folks, Brad here. I know y’all are all asking yourselves, “what is it exactly that Brad is doing again?” Sometimes I ask myself that very question.

El Archivo General de Indias (AGI), or the General Archive of the Indies, is the official repository of all documentation in Spain relating to the colonial administration of Spain’s American colonies: from Cuba to Chile, Mexico to the Philippines (yes, the Philippines were part of Spain’s “American” colonies).

The Archive is housed, as Neely has mentioned, right next door to Seville’s Cathedral in the 16th-century Casa Lonja ("LONE-ha"), the old merchant exchange. Spain’s King Carlos III, in 1785, established the archive here because Seville had been the point of departure for the Americas in the early colonial years and was the homebase of the Spanish colonial enterprise.

Today, the AGI houses one of the most important collections of colonial documents in the world. Here you can read letters from Cortés, Columbus, and even George Washington. But I am mostly interested in looking at things that give me a better idea of what was going on in the city of Tetzcoco, Mexico, in the earliest years of colonialism.

Cortés and Malinche are greeted by a group of indigenous rulers in a scene from the Lienzo of Tlaxcala.

I’ve really only just started to dig through the documents, but I’ve already found a very interesting case. It’s from the year 1537, which is earlier than anything I’ve seen in Mexico (the Spanish climate is a little easier on 500-year old paper), and it’s about 290 pages long. It’s a lawsuit brought by a group of indigenous leaders from one town against the indigenous leaders of my city of Tetzcoco.

The coat of arms of the city of Tetzcoco.

From this document, one gets a sense of the kinds of things that were happening in this very early period—only 15 years after the fall of the Aztec capital to Cortés! Mostly, I see that early colonialism was a period when people were trying to figure things out. In this particular case, they test the Spanish legal system to see what it can do for them. “Will the Spaniards really give us these lands if we hire a lawyer and sue for them?” “Will they find out that they’re not really ours?”

If it weren’t for the handwriting, this would be a quick read. But as it is, it’s taken me about two weeks to get through half of it. Whew!

Here are some examples of the types of handwriting that I find in the archive (click for larger image):

Otra Boda

2007-10-06T11:47:00.000+02:00

We are thinking of Kate and Fredo today! They are getting married in South Bend, IN tonight and we will definitely be there in spirit. Kate was in Brad's cohort at Tulane. We wish her and Fredo all the best!

En Mi Clase

2007-10-03T21:23:00.001+02:00

On Monday, I began Spanish classes! A friend suggested that I check out a great program in the center of Sevilla. The program director tests you and places you in the appropriate level. Students may take classes for as many weeks as they wish (or as many as they can afford in my case.)

Happily, I was placed in the perfect level for me – and it wasn’t the complete beginner level! I already knew the alphabet, how to count to 100, how to say my name, age, and where I’m from. No beginner here!

This is our textbook. Just kidding – it’s actually the textbook of my dreams. Yummm . . . tacos!

In my class, I have 5 Dutch kids who just graduated from high school, a middle-aged Danish woman, 3 Germans and Korean. Guess what? All of them speak fluent English! Wow. Talk about feeling like the typical dumb American; I’m a one-lingual “Yanqui.” (That’s the nickname over here for Americans – it’s pronounced yankee.)

My class meets for 4 hours each morning – and by morning, I mean before 2 p.m. The class is very informal and enjoyable. In the first few days of class, José, our teacher, pointed out several oddities in my Spanish. I took a crash course in Spanish from a Peruvian in L.A. The Latin American Spanish I learned sounds pretty provincial to a Spaniard. Glad we’re starting to clear things up!

It seems like I'm jumping into classes so soon after we moved to Sevilla. But, I get so frustrated when I cannot communicate anything beyond, "Una botella de agua, por favor." I often understand what someone asks me, but I simply don't have the words to answer them. Just like anyone, I have a need to discuss meaningful things with other people. Yes, Brad and I converse, but poor Brad should not have to be the sole recipient of my chatter.

I have to admit that it's nice to chat with the students in my class (in English) just to talk to someone. Soon I hope to have a bar or cafe where I'm a regular. I hear that's a great way to get to know Spaniards. Maybe the bartender at my chosen hangout will teach me a new phrase each night. Como se dice "dry martini?"

Pan de Vida

2007-09-30T17:16:00.001+02:00

Inside the cathedral in Sevilla

The first time I went into the famous cathedral in Sevilla, we were going to mass. Simply walking into the cathedral is a bit stupefying. It’s HUGE. It’s also incredibly ornate. The wall behind the altar has dozens of carved, painted and gilded panoramas from Biblical literature. Apparently some people are under the impression that the more ornate the cathedral, the more pleasing it is to God.

Just a tiny snapshot of the immense altar

Spain is famously – and notoriously – Catholic. The history and cultural traditions of Spain are deeply Catholic, even though a small percentage of the population goes to mass each week.

Iglesia de Salvador, downtown Sevilla

A spectacular ceiling inside the cathedral in Toledo

Under Franco, the fascist dictator who ruled Spain for decades (until 1975), Catholicism was the state religion. Children could not even enroll in school without a Saint’s name. (One reason there are so many Marias and Ignacios in Spain.) Franco designed and constructed a large tomb for himself which also functions as a memorial for those who died fighting for him in the Spanish Civil War. We saw this tomb, out of our bus window, on our way to Segovia from Madrid. The cross at this site is the tallest memorial cross in the world.

The Franco period in Spain is quite controversial and I have no authority to comment on it. Depictions of Franco and the Spanish civil war can be found in countless works of art, literature and films.

Catholicism fascinates me and I obviously love the Jesuits since I’ve been working for them for 4 years. I have a great deal of respect for the Jesuit emphasis on critical thinking and social justice. I also appreciate the emphasis on generosity, humility and community service in the Catholic Church.

The virgin on the exterior of a church in Sevilla – this is very common here

Mass at the cathedral was quite different than any mass I’ve attended. I felt distanced from the service because of the language barrier, the physical distance of 30 feet in between the congregation and the altar and the fact that I’m not Catholic. There was no music during the mass, the bishop’s homily was too old fashioned and they didn’t have wine with communion – what’s up with that?

At mass, I happened to look to my right and this is what I saw: the tomb of Columbus!

This week, we attended a service at one of the 2 Anglican churches in Sevilla. Iglesia de San Basilio was lovely. The small church is decorated simply – no weeping virgins or bleeding Christs. Above the altar was a simple wooden cross.

We arrived a few minutes early and chatted with the one and only priest for a while. He found us 2 worship service books with an English translation from the Book of Common Prayer. The service was the same Episcopal service we’re used to – just in Spanish.

The congregation included about 25 other parishioners, most of whom were over 65. The church wasn’t that different than any other tiny church. There was the one woman who sings really loud and a little flat. The priest introduced Brad and me by name before the end of the service. And, after church, we were greeted by several friendly parishioners, one of whom gave us some café con leche.

During the passing of the peace, the priest went to each parishoner in attendance; he gave the women kisses on our cheeks and shook the men's hands. Loved it! Everyone said, “La paz contingo,” (Peace be with you.)

The music at the service brought me joy. As the first chords of the first hymn played on the keyboard, I instantly recognized the tune: Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty. I printed a verse of this hymn in our wedding program.

Praise Ye the Lord, who o'er all things so wondrously reigneth,
Shelters thee under His wings, yea so gently sustaineth!
Hast thou not seen, how thy desires e’er have been,
Granted in what He ordaineth?

The final hymn was another familiar tune: The Church’s One Foundation. It’s pretty to cool to sing these in Spanish. It’s also nice to take communion after a month . . . my sins were starting to pile up.

Boda

2007-09-29T10:29:00.000+02:00

Shout out time!

My dear friends Mary Grace and Grant are getting married today. (I've already seen the wedding program and it's gorgeous.) Living in Europe has few drawbacks - missing friends' weddings is a biggie.

Here's to Mary Grace, Grant and everyone in their wonderful families!

Tres Semanas en España

2007-09-28T12:55:00.001+02:00

Things I've learned:

How to whip open a fan when necessary

Every Sevillana woman has a fan – claro que si!

Bedtime for Spanish children is after 11 p.m.
Where my neighborhood florist is
Where to buy the cheapest groceries in Sevilla
How weak the dollar is against the euro right now
I like anchovies
I like cured ham
Eating nothing but pork, cheese and bread for more than 2 days makes me feel bloated

Jamón Ibérico (If you are what you eat, Brad is one of these)

How to drink wine with almost every meal
Just because your Spain guidebook describes small fried fish that can be eaten whole, it doesn't mean you should dive into the first fried fish you are served in Sevilla, and eat it - bones and all

The smaller the apartment, the easier to clean

Spanish women know how to look sharp – even in 95 degree weather

How to say, “Which is the best dessert here?” in Spanish

How to say, “This is delicious” in Spanish

European milk: no refrigeration needed
Why Spain is the 2nd most immigrated-to country in the world

When the bishops buried in the cathedral of Toledo will finally get out of purgatory and go to heaven
What My Way sounds like on an accordion

What I Wish You Love sounds like on an accordion

Spaniards think the wind makes people crazy

Los Molinos (windmills) near the southern coast of Spain

How to use “vale” correctly in a sentence
How to do without hair appliances for 3 weeks (it hasn't been easy)

Don’t talk to gypsies
Which bus you take to get to IKEA
How to kiss on both cheeks as a greeting or a goodbye

Vodka and Fanta is a perfect combination

Donde vives?

2007-09-27T10:06:00.001+02:00

How do you say “amazing hosts” in Spanish? We stayed with some when we first arrived in Sevilla. Lino, who is in Brad’s program at UCLA, graciously offered us housing at his family’s home in Sevilla. When you’re in a strange new place, breaking bread with a family in their home can truly warm your heart and lift your spirits.

With Livia and Lino before our first meal in Sevilla.

Lino’s parents are professionals who work hard, but know how to relax and enjoy a 3-hour lunch in their beautiful jardín (garden). Lino’s Mom owns her own company and travels all over the world. She speaks excellent English, which was a relief for me. Lino’s Dad and sister (Livia) speak a little English too. So, with my tiny bit of Spanish, we all got along splendidly.

Speaking of Lino’s darling sister, she just turned 11 on Sunday! And, we were invited to her birthday party – what a treat. The party involved several rambunctious 11-year-olds, soccer, swimming in the pool, a huge pan of paella, a piñata and perfect weather.

When Brad and I arrived in Sevilla, we needed an apartment, bank account, cell phones, internet connection and a street map. Lino did not balk for one second at how high maintenance we were. He had already arranged for us to see 3 apartments the first night we were in town! Then, when we decided on an apartment, he went with us to the real estate agency to be our advocate throughout a very convoluted process.

Supper in our piso: manchego cheese, chorizo sausage, bread and wine
We may only have 2 electric stove burners, no oven and no microwave. But, we have a washer/dryer!!!

A blanket for the bed will definitely be our next big purchase . . .

Our little piso (apartment) is quite lovely and it is in “El Centro” – the center of Sevilla! We are a 1 minute walk from the river (Guadalquivir) and a 15 minute walk from the cathedral downtown. The cathedral is the 3rd largest cathedral in the world and it is situated right next to the archive (Archivo de Indias) where Brad is researching.

On the left, the cathedral; on the right, the Archivo de Indias

Sevilla is a beautiful city with beautiful people. We have yet to do the tourist thing, but, by not having a car, we are discovering many hidden treasures throughout the city. I learn a lot about Sevilla simply by going to put more euros on my cell phone, finding a shortcut through a plaza or shopping for milk.

At the Plaza de España
Items for sale at a souvenir shop

Speaking of shopping, another quirky thing about Spain: no concept of customer service. The silver lining is that no one is speaking to me in Spanish when I step into a store. In the U.S., a retail person might say, “Now you lemme know if there’s any I can do ya’ fer, honey!” If someone said that to me in Spanish, I would be dumfounded and have no response. But in Spain, they just tell you how much you owe for your purchases. Now if I could just learn my numbers, I’d be set . . .

Pueblos Blancos

2007-09-26T12:16:00.001+02:00

Lino, our friend from UCLA and our wonderful host in Sevilla, invited us to visit the "white towns" and some of southern Spain with him and his girlfriend, Ana. We jumped at the chance.

From Sevilla, Lino drove us to Ronda: a town on top of a mountain, with a huge gorge dividing the old city from the new city. Ronda is beautiful. The vistas from the cliffs from the gorge make Ronda a city you want to return to again. We did lots of wandering and I did lots of trying to restrain myself from taking so many photos (as you will see, I failed.)

We were in Ronda on a Saturday afternoon/evening, and I think every church in town had a wedding that night. We saw countless wedding guests and even a few newly married couples riding in a fancy car or horse carriage.

As a special treat in Ronda, we went to a Flamenco performance in the most venerated bull ring in Spain. I had never been to a bull ring or seen flamenco, so this was pretty awesome. The flamenco performance (that we only could stay for half of) involved guitar, singing and dancing. We only saw one performance by a female flamenco dancer, but the entire performance gave me a much greater understanding of flamenco.

Flamenco is more than those recognizable female dancers. It is a “cultural tradition” born in Andalucía! (According to Wikipedia anyway.) Now I also know that I could never sing flamenco (it’s got to be hell on your vocal cords) and I would never try to dance flamenco (my bum would look huge in those dresses.) Flamenco seems to be so personal to the Spanish and performing it seems to be pretty soul-baring.

After Ronda, we wound our way through mountains and past many tiny “pueblos blancos” nestled in the mountains and seemingly isolated from the world. We arrived at destination, Jiména de la Frontera, late. At supper, I expected little from the dirty, fluorescently lighted bar we chose to patronize. But, Spain is full of surprises. We had some delicious shellfish that I would never have ordered without Lino’s recommendation.

In the light of morning, Jiména de la Frontera looked even more depressing that it had the night before. I mean, if you live here, what is there to do? Litter, drink before noon and look shifty-eyed apparently!

We looked at this old castle or something and Brad and I were obviously getting a little punchy . . .
It's a bird, it's a plane . . .

It's a big goober standing in a centuries-old Moorish castle!

After we departed "Sadberg," as I like to call it, we drove on to Castellar de la Frontera. (Everything is “de la Frontera” around this area – don’t ask.) Castellar is a city built entirely inside a Moorish castle on top of a mountain. By city, I mean like 10 little 2-story buildings where a bunch of hippies selling cheap jewelry to tourists or Germans live. It was pretty cool, but do those people get cell phone service up there?

View from Castellar de la Frontera

We had a picnic lunch on our way down the mountain. Through the fog (we’re really close to the ocean at this point), we could see the rock of Gibraltar! Brad and I started singing a made-up song, “Gibraltar Rock,” to the tune of “Elijah Rock” by Moses Hogan.

On to Tarifa – in Lino’s words “quite a beautiful city.” But we only spent 20 minutes there. Oh well, I guess we’ll be back to Tarifa when we take the ferry to Morocco some day.

Next: Playa de Bolonia. A gorgeous beach! I was reminded of California beaches with the mountains near the ocean. Brad and I grabbed a couple of ice cream cones and hit the sand. It was so relaxing to lie in the sun. As a side note, some sunbathers were nude. We plan to revisit Playa de Bolonia and I’ll be sure to go topless. My motto is, “When in Spain . . .”

Whose sexy leg is that? Es la pierna de mi esposo!

Arte Español

2007-09-25T08:37:00.001+02:00

We spent a week in Madrid upon first arriving in Spain – supposedly a week of orientation for Fulbright awardees. However, Brad was only occupied with orientation activities during 2 days, so I only had 2 days to experience Madrid Neely-style. By Neely-style, I mean lots of time looking at surrealist art and very long lunches. And brazenly using Spanish with natives, but probably embarrassing myself in the process.

During my 2 days on my own, I obsessively used the metro and I was mistaken for a native Spaniard like 3 times. I also visited the Reina Sofía Museum and the Prado – the museums were the highlight of my time in Madrid.

At the Reina Sofía, I stared at Miro, Picasso and Kandinsky works for hours. Dalí, eh, I can take him or leave him. But Miro and Picasso? LOVE THEM. You can spend hours wondering what their paintings/drawings/scupltures mean. The most famous work at the Reina Sofia is Picasso’s "Guernica." After experiencing that, you’re emotionally exhausted. Miro's pieces are a bit more whimsical and fun.

Dragonfly with red wings Miro

The Prado has a ton of Goya, Velasquez and El Greco. It also has some famous Italian, Flemish and Dutch painters. The most notable painting at the Prado is probably "Las Meninas" by Velasquez. Out of all the paintings I saw there, one of my favorites is by Goya (see below). I think the monster symbolizes a civil war in Spain. Every human and animal is fleeing in terror from him, but there’s this one donkey that’s just standing there (white and in the foreground.) I can’t remember what the donkey symbollizes . . .

The Colossus Goya

My time at the museums was completely delightful. And, I gave myself plenty of time to simply wander around Madrid.

Meanwhile, Brad was getting to know the other Fulbrights awardees to Spain. We went out with a few of the other Fulbrights while in Madrid. Most of them were going to be teaching K-12 in Madrid. The majority of the “teaching assistants,” as they were called, were new college grads. So the age gap and maturity gap between me and them was pretty huge. Not really. But, I bet I’ll appreciate this year in Spain about 4 times more than they will because I’ve been working full-time for 4 more years than they have. Additionally, I’m not accountable to anyone but myself for the work I do this year – YIPPEE!