Barcelona must breed crazy people, as Picasso, Dahli, Joan Miró, and Gaudi are all from the city. Ohhh, Gaudi. I love Gaudi. It’s as simple as that. Well, not quite, actually. It’s more like I love Gaudi’s ingenuity. I found his style to be so fun, colorful, and expressive within its oddness. It may come as shock, but the twisted wrought-iron, mosaics, architectural structures, and eccentric chimneys and other roof decorations all take direct inspiration from nature. Waves, palm trees, pine cones, corncobs, tree branches, flowers, berries, animals–they’re all there.

His works are scattered throughout the city (mostly buildings and a big park), but his overall influence is seen in the city facilities and mentality. Most Americans haven’t heard of him (myself included), but I have been hearing about him in my classes so it only seemed appropriate to plan (er, book a flight and place to stay…”planning” happens on the plane ride over) my last trip within Spain to his hometown, Barcelona.

Since the Summer Olympics in 1992, Barcelona has become a European and even worldwide destination. Hosting the Games forced them to develop and spruce-up the city to be tourist friendly. Tourists and deluxe shops abound (though I missed the main stretch on Avinguda Diagonal because I was so engrossed in Gaudi). At the heart of the city is La Rambla, what is supposed to be the world’s perfect street, but I was not impressed by the people-statues or pets for sale. Just off the street was Mercat Boqueria, also bursting with tourists, but I was intrigued as usual by the presentation and preparation of fresh fare.

Despite being such a hotspot, there exists a tension between Cataluña and the rest of Spain. The Catalans speak their own language (mix of French and Spanish) among themselves and use it on all the signs, but also know Spanish to communicate with the rest of Spain. Madridleños have the most difficult time getting along with Catalans, as my host-mom claims that if a Catalan finds out this fact, they will only speak with you in the Catalan that you can’t understand and insist that they don’t know Spanish. There is also a strong separatist movement in the region, with the belief that they are more European and better off without the Spain they don’t think particularly highly of. Though, I might add, this is not a unique thought in Spain as many other regions are fighting for their independence and constantly stirring up trouble (e.g. ETA and País Vasco).

As with every other weekend trip I have been on, rain and cool weather was overwhelmingly predicted–the best way to crush the atmosphere of the city and force everyone into museum hibernation. Somehow, though, the stars were aligned for me because there was only sprinkling on my first evening when I stumbled upon the musical fountain at the Montjuïc palace turned art museum. The 60% storm predictions for Saturday turned out to be sun and cotton ball clouds so I was able to keep exploring Gaudi’s pieces without fear of misery or ruining my camera. Thanks to this fabulous weather and my fascination with Gaudi I was not too annoyed with the swarms of tourists playing in Europe’s playground. If I had my way, I would go back for a day trip because it’s an easy, 1-hour flight but I just don’t think the bank account nor my sanity will allow that to happen.

Semana Santa (Holy Week) is a big holiday in Spain and they celebrate quite uniquely with these processions of cone-hooded men carrying pasos (floats) that retell the story of Christ’s last week. Since Madrid is a working city, not a lot of madridleños are actually from the city, but from the small pueblos outside it. I saw a statistic that some 50% of the city leaves for the week; I can’t think of any holiday or city where that’s the case in the US. There’s even a name for the whole process, Operación Salida (Exit Operation). Back in the States, you may even have heard some celebrity gossip from Antonio Banderas returning to his native Spain to participate in the processions.

I was fortunate that a professor of mine is from a small pueblo, Cuenca, that has beautiful processions during the day (for better pictures) and not too many people, unlike Madrid. He drove a few of us down to see them and hear a Gregorian chant performance (it was for a Music of Spain class) that we ended up not being able to find.

Though we had 4.5 days off and I was planning on getting a lot of work done (including writing a couple of posts I’ve been trying to find some time to do), my dad jinxed me and laugh when I rattled off the list of things I had to do. I didn’t even start to work until Sunday afternoon. Instead, I hung-out with my housemate from Philly and we enjoyed the freedom and quiet of the house without our host-family around (they, too, went back to a pueblo).

Thursday we people watched in a park nearby our house, where we saw a woman wrestle with her bull dog because it kept stealing little kids’ balls and a couple get approached by undercover policeman and (we think) searched for drugs. I guess it’s legal to grow and possess a certain amount of marijuana, but you just can’t smoke it in public without getting fined. In the evening we went to a flamenco concert (no dancing) because she’s a flamenco singer and knew this guy would be good.

Friday was the trip to Cuenca that I already alluded to and I had a bit of an adventure asking for directions to the bus station. I swear I am good with maps, but when there are no street signs and I am not simply un-doing my steps, it’s a bit harder.

Saturday hopped on a bus for half and hour to visit El Escorial, the former monastery built to show Spain’s devotion to Catholicism but is now a mix of art museum and architectural monument. The weekend started to turn really cold and we had to face some snow-ish winds. No, the snow-stuff didn’t stick but it was certainly a shock for much of the country. Since there was snow and hail in southern Spain, too, even the most famous processions had to partly cancel or delay and disappoint quite a few people.

You would think with all the pomp and celebrations during the week that Easter Sunday would be even more amazing, but in fact it’s not that big of a deal. Thursday and Friday are the most important days. My friend and I walked past the cathedral in Madrid where you can find the biggest form of celebration via the loud clanging of the bells. (I think it’s a special occasion thing.) We were actually heading to the Plaza Mayor to hear this traditional drum performance (Tamborrada) and thanks to my excellent map-reading skills we arrived just as they were coming up the street. We listened for a while among a large crowd and it made me all the more thankful that I avoided this in Cuenca for the processions. Bumping around with people to simply see something is not something I look forward to.

Though Sundays are considered holidays in Spain and nearly every business closes, the region we were in stays open for the tourists so we did some shopping. We found this gourmet international food market that carries items like hummus, smoothies, and tortilla shells, as well as PopTarts and Cheerios. I only mention this because while we were there a group of British women were chatting and eating lunch when a man dropped some biscuits. He apologized and in the process of picking up the food, he grabbed one of the women’s unattended handbags and took off. It took them a few seconds to realize it, but by that time he was gone. Since they were going to the airport right after lunch, he took all of her money and her passport. Yikes. We did our best to help them out since they didn’t speak any Spanish, but the woman was pretty much stuck. Kind of freaked us out, but it just shows how we need to be on our guard all the time. Plus, we both now know the emergency numbers of the city and the embassy (which we didn’t have noted before). I have never felt unsafe here, but gentle reminders here and there always come up.

It was a nice weekend and I took some awesome pictures in Cuenca that I am about to submit to a photo contest. It was kind of sad without the Easter bunny hiding eggs and munching on jellybeans (and our family loved hearing about our Easter traditions), but it will be even sadder not being able to buy the leftover candy at 50%-off.

I also have a few pictures from the Tamborrada.

I was not particularly excited for this trip because we had very little time to discuss it in class (to get excited about the sites) and the last trip to Granada and Cordoba was jam-packed and pretty stressful as a result. But, the mountains (Picos de Europa) and the sea in a quiet, tourist-free town have a magical, comforting power. We were not expecting to be so close to the water nor for the weather to be as nice as it was. Though the place we stayed at reminded me of the musty cabins of my wilderness-experiences at summer camps and the town (Ribadesella) didn’t have a lot to “do” in it, we all loved it. What a break from the hustle-and-bustle of Madrid or even our life as college students in the US. I thought the people were friendlier and the Northerners are a bit easier to understand. According to our teacher, the place has changed a lot over the past few years because the Prince is from a nearby area and likes to visit a lot, bringing in more money and I am sure more tourists will find it and fall in love with, as one British tourist site describes it, ‘unspoilt‘ Spain.

Asturias is known for its milk products and cider, but not your ordinary, Halloween, donut-dunking cider from the orchard. This cider is slightly fermented and in order to get the best (and only palatable) taste is to add air to the drink the instant before your gulp it down–and ‘instant’ and ‘gulp’ are not exaggerations. In the sidería we visited Friday for lunch we were greatly entertained by the waiters lifting the glass bottle of cider way above their heads and letting the cider pour out and down to a glass waiting in the other hand below their waist. Then, you must drink almost the entire glass in one go or you will end up making funny faces like my friends who tried to smell it and swirl it before taking sips of what had become a bitter, flat drink. The final, would-be back wash sip is always thrown away, literally over the side of the table. As you can imagine, both parts make quite a mess so the problem is partially solved by placing wooden buckets or barrels at every table to toss the last sip and for the waiters to use while pouring before they flick their wrist to allow the cup to be filled. And for those who don’t want to wait for the waiter to come over every time they get thirst or don’t know how to do it on their own without making a fool out of themselves by spilling all over the place, there are also these little contraptions that you can stick on top of the bottle to serve it. In the US, a restaurant could import the cider and make a business just out of serving it.

On Saturday we staved-off some bad weather and visited some prehistoric caves with some of the best-preserved wall-paintings and did a 4hr, 14km canoe trip similar to the huge event every August that draws in thousands of people from around the world. The river was calm with small patches of “rapids” here and there so we had to work relatively hard. Thank goodness the company had wet suits and water shoes for us or we would have been miserable in our blue jeans and tennis shoes. Lunch on a bed of rocks was accompanied by some wild horses hoping we’d leave them some sort of snacks, I think. We finished off the day by climbing up a hill to watch the sunset over the sea.

If that doesn’t sound picturesque enough for you, I don’t know what will. I think it’d be the perfect place to retire, if only I was of age…

Sorry for the uninteresting post, but this is the best I can do for this post at this point, as I have to start studying for my last (5th) midterm tomorrow. Then it’s off to *gasp* Italia for Spring Break for a whole 9 days. Roma, Bolgona, Milano, Florence, Venice…here I come!

As a result of my terminal business I’m just going to say about my trip to Cordoba and Granada in southern Spain (province of Andalucia), checkout my pictures and use the captions plus my updated Where I’ve Traveled as your guide.

Since we left early on Friday morning and returned at 10pm on Sunday, I really didn’t get much work done. Plus, we had all of our walking tours in Spanish so my head was ready for a break at the end of the day, not ready to hit the books (that I didn’t bring…). We also had this packet of questions and activities to complete since it was an ‘educational’ trip that hung over all of our heads as we explored the various sites. I was not happy with it because I felt like we were obligated to have our noses shoved in a paper rather than experiencing the scenery; I ignored the packet as a result and scrambled to fill in all the responses on the 7-hour bus ride back. To top that off, when we met again for class the next day (Monday). we were supposed to have continued with the readings and assignments as if we hadn’t already invested enough time in the class over the weekend. …off to work I go…

It started out with a trip to El Prado, Madrid’s famous art museum. I wasn’t too impressed because I like a bit more variety (only 1500 of their collection of over 7000 pieces can be displayed at a time, so maybe what I would have preferred is in storage) and the main focus was on Goya, El Greco, and other Spanish heart throbs. I did like how the main exhibit hall was naturally lit so you didn’t have to deal with the glare of the harsh spotlights. It was kind of fun seeing some of the famous works that I’ve read about in textbooks, but nothing overwhelming. It was interesting to see artists throughout the museum painting the exhibited paintings–never seen that in all my past museum visits.

Saturday was my day-trip to Segovia, which you can read about in my updated post.

Sunday was another beautiful day in Madrid, so I went on a stroll that was only intended to last an hour or so, but came out to around 4 or 5. I took some fabulous pictures, though, and be sure to check out the map to get an idea of where these places are in Madrid.

You may have seen my photos already from where I’ve traveled, but perhaps a few words could help. I didn’t intend to squish both weekends together into one post, but I’m tired of feeling guilty for not writing about either so this will have to do.

Andalucia
Within 24 hours of landing here, I was already beginning my European travels with a SLU-sponsored orientation trip to a region in southern Spain called Andalucia. Since Madrid is centrally located in Spain, I am always relatively close to travel destinations and the pueblo of Cazorla was no exception at about a 4.5 hour bus ride away. The SLU philosophy on making new friends abroad and quickly immersing into Spanish culture is to ignore whatever jetlag or travel-induced exhaustion you may be experiencing (not very much for me, but my roommate on the trip had a 11 hour time change and a 25 hour journey) and do as much as possible involving the aforementioned. I think they succeeded in achieving that for all 31 of us who participated.

On the bus ride, I met a girl from a small, Midwestern town (and therefore is very sweet and has small Midwestern town values, unlike the other students I “met” at the airport gate) who I think I will be my travel buddy, though we have yet to plan any of the trips we have in mind. Through our 8-hour hike and extreme sport activities, we all got to know each other and little cliques of friends were formed by the end of the trip that still exist on campus now.

Our guide was a crazy Spaniard who spoke a bit of English and seemed to know more about hiking than the basic skill of telling time. We definitely experienced some awfully long “5 minute” stretches on the hike through the trees and up the mountain sides. While I was busy snapping pictures and soaking-up the landscape, people were grumbling in the back of the group about blisters and bathrooms. It was quite a workout, but I wouldn’t have expected anything less from the trip description: “rigorous hiking adventure.” I guess they didn’t read it or thought that meant walking on flat, paved roads for an hour or two each day.

The hike on Saturday began with a 45-minute bus ride up into the mountains (the driver was amazing, maneuvering these windy often un-barricaded roads that would’ve made me nervous in a Mini Cooper) and included a cool-morning ascent to our lunch stop destination above the clouds at the top of the highest peak we could find and a 1750m descent that somehow ended back up at our hotel. We walked for about 9 miles, but that statistic doesn’t include the vertical distance we subjected our poor knees and feet to. The worst part was actually finding your footing on the rubble-scattered paths–especially when descending–even more so than the time we spent going up and down. Throughout the hike we would catch glimpses of the clustered white buildings of Cazorla before they were again concealed by clouds, a patch of trees, or another mountain. It was sort of like we were tracking it, never believing we’d ever make it back down to that little white dot that was our hotel at the end of the day.

I also enjoyed meeting the town’s infamous sheppard, Pedro, who was walking his sheep with his dogs while watching us scale the steepest and largest hill in town. He, and anyone else who was admiring the skyline that day like we did the next day, must have been laughing at how crazy we were to do that (…they never said the shortest distance between two points was the easiest…) and waiting for one of us to pull a “Jack and Jill”.

The Hill. Imagine a cluster of colored dots slowly inching down the hill and you will get an idea of what we looked like. Note the hill keeps going off the right-side of the frame to El Castillo (that’s just a lookout in the upper left).

And finally, the town’s main feature is El Castillo de Yerda, lit-up at night and towering above everything but the mountains themselves. We made a pit stop there at the end of our hike and we were all surprised to find that the castle itself wasn’t anything spectacular. With all the glamor we give castles in fairytales and Disney movies, I was expecting a bit more than a few rooms and a dungeon, where legend has it that an Arab King locked his daughter in there when the Christians were coming and had the guards feed her by descending plates of food through the gates (but somehow they ran out of food and she ate a few too many bugs, turning into a monster that will get little children if they’re up too late on Dia de San Juan!). Granted, it had a tall tower with about 4 levels to it, but really not like the stereotypical mansion of luxury that I was expecting, especially with respect to the size of the walls protecting it. I guess I will have to wait until this weekend for my visit to Segovia, a town known for its spectacular castles and aqueducts.

The extreme sports we did in the mountains on Sunday were ok, but more low-key than all the hiking so they paled in comparison. I did surprise myself by not being afraid of the zipline (put on a harness and hook-up to a cable that stretches between two cliff and then off you go!) and, in fact, did it twice because I wanted to get a better look at the view. It was kind of like riding a slow swing, but without an actual seat. Really, not that bad. There was also rappelling, rock-climbing, horseback riding, and a mountain bike stroll. The company that hosted us took pictures throughout the day and posted a montage video that I highly recommend you check out, despite the poor streaming quality.

Toledo
When I said a “side of Toledo,” I meant it. Toledo was another SLU-sponsored trip that I couldn’t resist because it was so easy to do (no planning, just show up) and cheap. Our guide was a professor at SLU and was quite a TrailBlazer, often leaving much of the group behind without seeming to even try to walk their slow pace. Unfortunately, he kind of had a problem with spitting, so the huddle when we got to a point where he wanted to share something with us ended up being people slowly backing up or inching a bit behind someone else for–at least in my case–fear of dirty glasses.The town is divided into new and old sections by an ancient wall. There’s a lot of history here, especially with respect to religions. We visited a synagogue turned museum and got both an outside and inside view of the town’s Cathedral. It was stunning and I am so glad they didn’t allow pictures because I wouldn’t have known where to begin to capture the paintings (on the walls and hanging), stained glass, wood carvings, arches and gigantic columns, tombs, or organs. It was massive and overwhelmingly beautiful. No wonder it took them over 250 years!

The northwest tower of the Cathedral, once the sun came out in the afternoon.

I was also fascinated by the Damasquinado plates and jewelery. We were lucky to walk past a man who was working on a small plate (like an ashtray size) and who showed us how it is made. You start with an iron base and scratch the surface to adhere very thin gold thread by hammering it into whatever design you like. Then, if you want, you can hammer on thin bits of gold to fill-in any patterns you may have outlined with the thread. It sounds simple, but everything is at a small scale and it’s all freehand (so no etching a design beforehand). Sometimes it would be random intricate designs, other times there were birds or flowers. All very beautiful, of course.

I can’t end without mentioning Toledo’s tie with the famous painter, El Greco. He’s quite famous worldwide and one of Spain’s greatest prides. We saw a bunch of works of his and I believe there are even more in Madrid’s art museum, El Prado, which I plan on visiting soon. Again, no pictures (though quite a few people thought it would be ok to take pictures “without the flash” that often fired, against the clear indications to not do so…let’s say a few people had to be escorted out and our poor guide was threatened a bunch of times throughout the trip for our group’s ignorance).