We arrived in Torremolinos, a lovely beach town on the Mediterranean, yesterday afternoon after a glorious morning/lunch hour in Granada.
La Alhambra, a United Nations´World Heritage site, was over the top. Amazingly beautiful. (As I wrote earlier, this was my third visit, but I hadn´t been since 1986. The site has definitely been lovingly restored over the past 21 years.) My mother said, ¨When you spend a half a day seeing something like this, you realize how much of your life has been wasted.¨ I have to agree. Every inch of the place was designed to please the eyes (walls covered with intricate plaster carvings in Arabic, inlaid wood ceilings, and to-die-for tiles in a multitude of geometric patterns), the ears (channels of water run throughout the complex, which provide soft, soothing background noise that isn´t noise at all...more like music), and the nose (fragrant flowers--abundant roses and jasmine--and herbs--we especially liked the lemon thyme). An inscription in La Alhambra reads: "Give alms to this blind man, Madam, because there is no bigger sorrow than being blind in Granada.¨ The Alhambra is definitely a feast for the eyes, and we said how happy we were that Los Reyes Catolicos, Ferdinand and Isabel, didn´t raze the place when they conquered Granada in 1492. Even they must have been awed by its beauty.
Our tour guide, Nils, is a Spaniard whose father is Swedish and mother is French. He grew up in a small town in the south of Spain, and his love of La Alhambra is reverential. He started the tour by taking us to the Generalife gardens, where the soothing sound of water can be heard throughout the area. Nils explained that the Moors believed that water was very spiritual and was present to remind the palace´s tenants of their spiritual nature. (Steve said he thought that they had a high regard for water, since it was such a limited resource.) According to Nils, the gardens gave them a place to think, to be, and to hear God. On the tour, I was also reminded of the Japanese art of Feng Shui, where water is an essential element to incorporate into your living environment.
As we walked through La Alhambra, I couldn´t help but think of quilts. Each and every tile design would make an amazing quilt design. I took a million pictures. (Okay, maybe not a million, but a ton that I´m going to share with my fellow quilters when I return home. I´ll post some here, too.) Nils also talked about how geometry wasn´t so practical back in their day. It was more of a spiritual quest, with theorists trying to make sense of their world.
The views from the castle, which is what La Alhambra was, were stunning. As Nils said, it was a view fit for a king (or sultan). It was nice to be royal for a day. We climbed back onto the bus to make our way to downtown Granada. Mother, Casey and Aedan found a place to hang while Blair and I walked over to see the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabel. Unfortunately, we got to La Capilla (the chapel) during siesta. All was not lost, though. The acoustics near the Cathedral were very good, and street musicians were out. We heard a trio of guitarrists who gave me chills. I´ll post a clip of them playing on youtube when I return home.
We also found a guy who would write your name in Arabic for 1 Euro. I had my name, Aedan´s name, and my Aunt Joe Ann´s name done. (Joe Ann is a calligraphy expert, so I knew she´d love this recuerdo.) Blair asked me how I knew the artist wasn´t writing ¨You are full of it¨ or something worse. I said that I didn´t know, but the calligraphy was beautiful regardless. When we stopped at a little shop not far away to buy some other goodies, the shopkeeper said ¨Denise¨. I looked up shocked and asked him how he knew my name. He pointed at the writing. I showed him the other two, and he sounded out Aedan and Joe Ann. So, I guess the writing is the real deal. I´m glad, because I´d hate to give my Aunt Joe Ann a present that says ¨Curse you, American heathen.¨
We met Mother, Casey and Aedan and walked down to La Plaza Nueva for lunch at Doner Kebap Nemrut. For 6 Euros each, we got a lunch special that included a chicken (or beef) gyro, french fries, a chilled mug of Mahou beer, and a piece of baklava. YUM! Tasty food, a lovely outdoor setting and interesting conversation made it a memorable lunch. We got back to the bus at 3:10, and everyone except Steve and a couple of the girls from Alaska were on board. I wasn´t worried about the girls, because one of their adult leaders knew they were on their way, but I was worried about Steve. He´s usually very prompt. We´d seen an altercation (loud arguing, finger pointing and almost shoving) among some gypsy women while we were near the Cathedral, and I wondered if he hadn´t been spirited away by gypsies. (Casey said that the gypsies don´t watch soap operas here, so they create their own.) Instead, Steve had lunch in a local bar, and he said, ¨You know how it is when you´re in a bar and someone wants to tell you their life story and you´re too polite to tell them you´ve got to go and that you don´t speak Spanish very well? Well, that´s what happened. Lo siento. (I´m sorry.)¨ For the record, I think Steve speaks Spanish quite well for someone who only had it in high school. I can´t believe he remembers as much as he does, but then again he´s a very smart guy.
From Granada, we drove two hours west to Torremolinos, which is on Spain´s beautiful Costa del Sol. (Sean Connery, the real James Bond, has a house up the road in Marbella.) Our hotel has a pool, so, of course, Aedan wanted to jump in. It wasn´t as cold as the hotel pool in Granada, but it was pretty darn cold. I yelped when I hit the water, and a gentleman who was sitting on the side of the pool laughed. He said that he was from Madrid, and the water was even cold for him. We started talking, and I found out that he was holding his 9-month-old son, Francisco, while watching his 8-year-old daughter, Laura, swim. I told him that I´d lived in Madrid for a year and that I was still crazy about it. He seemed pleased.
We got ready for dinner and made our way down to the hotel´s buffet. Quite a spread. I ate my fill without an ounce of guilt. One of my students said, ¨I didn´t know we were going to lose weight on this trip!¨ I said, ¨Didn´t you know it was a Spa Study Abroad?!¨ We have been walking our legs off...literally. It sort of reminds me of ¨The Secret Garden¨. Remember the sickly boy who goes out to play with the other children, and little by little, he becomes healthy? That´s what´s happening with us. My calves are rock hard. My thighs and glutes are slimming down from the constant up and down stair climbing. One of the travelers injured her leg back home, and she said this trip has been the best physical therapy she´s ever had. I told her that she ought to ask her doctor to prescribe an annual trip to Spain instead of regular PT. (It would probably cost less.)
After dinner, which we had with Gary, Mother and Casey, we walked down the hill, about a 10-minute straight shot, to the sea. Some other Palo Altoites were already there picking up pebbles and shells. We laughed and said that when the airline asks us if we have rocks in our suitcase, we´ll be able to say yes truthfully. We walked back to the hotel, uphill, where we ran into Kim and Mariana, who were plotting a trip to Ronda, a two-hour bus ride north of Torremolinos, for the next day. We enjoyed a bebida and watched a young (3ish) Spanish girl dressed in ropa flamenca tipica (polka dots galore) hold forth on a mini stage. Precious.
Today, we spent the whole day hanging out at the beach. We met a lovely British couple, Susie and Tony, who have lived in Torremolinos for more than 20 years. I had a cup of coffee on the beach, and I said how happy I was to be drinking Spanish coffee again. Tony said, ¨It´s the best in the world. It´s one of the reasons I live here.¨ He said that he had at least four cups a day. Aedan said, ¨And I thought she (meaning me) was bad!¨ I don´t blame Tony at all. Truly, Starbucks wishes its coffee tasted so good. Tony and Susie are planning a trip to Florida soon, and I invited them to visit San Antonio. I told them they could probably get an inexpensive fare on Southwest Airlines. I hope they decide to make the hop over the Gulf of Mexico.
Mañana, we´re off to Sevilla. This trip is going by way too fast. After two nights in Sevilla, we´ll head back to Madrid. Some will stay only two nights there, but the rest of us will have seven nights. Can´t wait, but it feels like we already need to start planning our next visit over. Anyone want to join us? :)
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Granada, Spain
The ¨Search for the Holy Grail¨ theme continued as we traveled from Valencia to Granada. We kept seeing signs for Murcia, and we couldn´t help but think of coconuts. ¨Murcia? But Murcia is a temperate zone. The coconut is tropical.¨
The 7-hour bus ride was filled with vistas of orange groves, olive groves, pomegranates, some corn, ancient castles, the Mediterranean Ocean, rocky cliffs, mountainside caves that serve as homes, and even snow-capped peaks as we got closer to Granada. Gary explained that Benidorm, a highly developed (like Cancun) city on the coast, is where all of the Madrileños hang out in June, July and August. He said that some of the clubs in Madrid even rent space in Benidorm to serve their regular clients.
The south of Spain doesn´t get much rain, and the colors are muted--rust, taupe, and dark green--and the ground is caliche-like. It definitely feels much different than the north of Spain, which gets lots of rain and is very green. It´s a different kind of beauty, sort of like the Southwestern U.S.
While we were on the road, Mariana and I reviewed our assigned chapters with the students. Everyone seems to be getting into the story (telenovela) that Spain is. I also enjoyed hearing what scenes they´d witnessed in Valencia and how they´d written or would write about them. Lee Gutkind, the author of the book I assigned, says that all good stories begin with a conflict, where you show a person or subject in action. We talked about the best way to start a story about Ish´s experience of having his wallet pickpocketed in Valencia. He´s the second person on our tour to lose valuables. Caroline´s purse was stolen in Madrid. Luckily, both of them were wearing their important documents (passport, etc.) under their clothes.
Gary bought ¨Open Season¨ for us to watch on the bus after our lunch stop. Aedan was very happy to have an age-appropriate film to enjoy, and she was also very happy to discover a pool at our hotel. We decided to give it a try. Some of our Alaskan busmates had already made it down, and they said the water was fine. Texans should never ask Alaskans for pool temperature advice. We jumped in and were immediately covered in goosebumps. Think Barton Springs in Austin times two. Invigorating, to say the least. I´m proud of two of my students, Erica and Sarah, who also joined the Polar Bear Club.
Tomorrow, we are going to take a guided tour of La Alhambra, another architectural marvel. This will be my third visit, but I´m still looking forward to its magic. Granada was the Moorish capital from 711 to 1492, and it still feels more Arabic than Spanish or European. After our tour of La Alhambra and the surrounding gardens, we will have time to walk through the Albaicin, an ancient Moorish market that hasn´t changed much, if any, over the years. Since we´re not taking the optional trip to Morocco, it´s the closest we´ll get. (It´ll be like going to Market Square in San Antonio instead of making the trek to Laredo.)
When we were in Valencia´s Cathedral yesterday, the audio tour spoke of some saint whose name I didn´t catch, but he was St. So and So, the Magnanimous. It made me think of a guy who works at the Domino´s Pizza near our home in San Antonio. His nametag reads Antoine, the Legendary. It cracks me up every time I see it. It also makes me think what adjective I´d like to use to describe me. Since magnanimous and legendary are already taken, I´ll have to come up with something else.
The 7-hour bus ride was filled with vistas of orange groves, olive groves, pomegranates, some corn, ancient castles, the Mediterranean Ocean, rocky cliffs, mountainside caves that serve as homes, and even snow-capped peaks as we got closer to Granada. Gary explained that Benidorm, a highly developed (like Cancun) city on the coast, is where all of the Madrileños hang out in June, July and August. He said that some of the clubs in Madrid even rent space in Benidorm to serve their regular clients.
The south of Spain doesn´t get much rain, and the colors are muted--rust, taupe, and dark green--and the ground is caliche-like. It definitely feels much different than the north of Spain, which gets lots of rain and is very green. It´s a different kind of beauty, sort of like the Southwestern U.S.
While we were on the road, Mariana and I reviewed our assigned chapters with the students. Everyone seems to be getting into the story (telenovela) that Spain is. I also enjoyed hearing what scenes they´d witnessed in Valencia and how they´d written or would write about them. Lee Gutkind, the author of the book I assigned, says that all good stories begin with a conflict, where you show a person or subject in action. We talked about the best way to start a story about Ish´s experience of having his wallet pickpocketed in Valencia. He´s the second person on our tour to lose valuables. Caroline´s purse was stolen in Madrid. Luckily, both of them were wearing their important documents (passport, etc.) under their clothes.
Gary bought ¨Open Season¨ for us to watch on the bus after our lunch stop. Aedan was very happy to have an age-appropriate film to enjoy, and she was also very happy to discover a pool at our hotel. We decided to give it a try. Some of our Alaskan busmates had already made it down, and they said the water was fine. Texans should never ask Alaskans for pool temperature advice. We jumped in and were immediately covered in goosebumps. Think Barton Springs in Austin times two. Invigorating, to say the least. I´m proud of two of my students, Erica and Sarah, who also joined the Polar Bear Club.
Tomorrow, we are going to take a guided tour of La Alhambra, another architectural marvel. This will be my third visit, but I´m still looking forward to its magic. Granada was the Moorish capital from 711 to 1492, and it still feels more Arabic than Spanish or European. After our tour of La Alhambra and the surrounding gardens, we will have time to walk through the Albaicin, an ancient Moorish market that hasn´t changed much, if any, over the years. Since we´re not taking the optional trip to Morocco, it´s the closest we´ll get. (It´ll be like going to Market Square in San Antonio instead of making the trek to Laredo.)
When we were in Valencia´s Cathedral yesterday, the audio tour spoke of some saint whose name I didn´t catch, but he was St. So and So, the Magnanimous. It made me think of a guy who works at the Domino´s Pizza near our home in San Antonio. His nametag reads Antoine, the Legendary. It cracks me up every time I see it. It also makes me think what adjective I´d like to use to describe me. Since magnanimous and legendary are already taken, I´ll have to come up with something else.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Valencia, Spain
I haven´t been to Valencia since 1982, and I have to say it´s changed for the better. After spending the fall semester in cosmopolitan Madrid, I thought Valencia needed quite a bit of sprucing up when I saw it the following spring. It´s spruced.
The architect Santiago Calatrava, a Valencia native, designed a City of Arts and Sciences (1991-2004) that´s amazing to see and walk through. It houses a world-class aquarium and opera house. Located on the edge of the Mar Mediterraneo, it looks like a giant fish about to jump back into the water. Casey, my mother´s novio said, ¨It´s a female fish.¨ I took the bait and asked him how he knew. He said, ¨Her mouth is open.¨
We then stopped in front of the city´s bullring before heading out to tour the town. Our first destination was the Cathedral, home of the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus Christ used at the Last Supper. Scenes from Monty Python´s ¨Search for the Holy Grail¨ flashed through my mind as we neared the Cathedral. (¨She turned me into a newt! Well, I got better.¨ and ¨Why else do you think I have this ridiculous accent?¨) However, the Cathedral´s quiet beauty removed any strains of silliness. For 3 Euros, you are able to enter and enjoy a well done audio tour. I was impressed by the main altar. The ceiling frescoes of stunning angels painted on a royal blue background had recently been restored. Behind the altar, you´ll find St. Vincent the Martyr´s arm. His whole arm. I´ve seen relics before, but I don´t think I´ve ever seen a relic that big. St. Vincent is the patron saint of Valencia.
We then walked to the special chapel that houses the Holy Grail. It gave me chills to think that Christ could have held that cup. The chapel itself is fairly plain, unlike the many side chapels that are very ornate. (One of the chapels even showcased two of Goya´s paintings.) The chalice, or grail, is also very austere. No diamonds and rubies here. Simple, but beautiful.
After touring the Cathedral, we decided to walk over to the market to buy a piece of fruit. By the time we got there, it was closed for the lunch hour and wouldn´t open again until 6 p.m. It was nice to see the building, though, which is covered in blue and yellow tile.
Now Mariana and I are sitting in a nice ¨Centro de Internet¨called Ono on the corner of Maria Cristina and San Vicente Martir. We´re paying 3 Euros an hour to use their computers, but it´s worth every centimo. We only paid 1.20 Euros per hour in Barcelona, but it was pure hell. The person to the side of me, whose elbows I became well acquainted, with smoked non-stop. Four teenage boys who were playing the online game World of Warcraft cussed and smoked non-stop for an hour and a half. (I knew they were playing WOW, because one of my reporters--Miguel Serna--from last semester wrote about it. He´s an avid player.) One of the kids held forth with a running commentary the entire session and two out of his three words should not have been uttered in public. I finally had enough. I was trying to concentrate and type as fast as I could. I said, ¨Oye. Por favor. Bajalo!¨(Listen. Please. Turn it down.¨) He said, ¨Si. Bueno.¨ (Yes. Fine.) I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, but 15 seconds later, he was back at it, even louder if possible. (Perhaps I should have asked him to talk louder and curse more? Reverse psychology. I haven´t entered the teenage parenting years yet, so I wasn´t prepared.) Meanwhile, a French girl, also a smoker, sat down next to me. She proceeded to let out the biggest burp I´ve ever heard. (Reminded me of Amy Stubblefield´s childhood dog, Ming, who was quite a burper. The Stubblefield family would always reply, ¨Ming, did you get any on you?¨) I felt like asking the French girl if she got any on her, but I didn´t think she´d get it. Instead, I just looked at her, and she said with a very cute, not ridiculous, French accent, ¨I´m so embarrassed.¨ We both laughed. I told her it was okay, and I also told her I couldn´t believe the kid in the room could talk non-stop for an hour and a half. Mercifully, our time ran out. As we descended the narrow staircase, the kid was still talking.
We´ve got to leave to meet up with our group. I hope paella is on tonight´s menu. Valencia is famous for it. Alba, we´re thinking of you! Mañana, Granada. Stay tuned!
The architect Santiago Calatrava, a Valencia native, designed a City of Arts and Sciences (1991-2004) that´s amazing to see and walk through. It houses a world-class aquarium and opera house. Located on the edge of the Mar Mediterraneo, it looks like a giant fish about to jump back into the water. Casey, my mother´s novio said, ¨It´s a female fish.¨ I took the bait and asked him how he knew. He said, ¨Her mouth is open.¨
We then stopped in front of the city´s bullring before heading out to tour the town. Our first destination was the Cathedral, home of the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus Christ used at the Last Supper. Scenes from Monty Python´s ¨Search for the Holy Grail¨ flashed through my mind as we neared the Cathedral. (¨She turned me into a newt! Well, I got better.¨ and ¨Why else do you think I have this ridiculous accent?¨) However, the Cathedral´s quiet beauty removed any strains of silliness. For 3 Euros, you are able to enter and enjoy a well done audio tour. I was impressed by the main altar. The ceiling frescoes of stunning angels painted on a royal blue background had recently been restored. Behind the altar, you´ll find St. Vincent the Martyr´s arm. His whole arm. I´ve seen relics before, but I don´t think I´ve ever seen a relic that big. St. Vincent is the patron saint of Valencia.
We then walked to the special chapel that houses the Holy Grail. It gave me chills to think that Christ could have held that cup. The chapel itself is fairly plain, unlike the many side chapels that are very ornate. (One of the chapels even showcased two of Goya´s paintings.) The chalice, or grail, is also very austere. No diamonds and rubies here. Simple, but beautiful.
After touring the Cathedral, we decided to walk over to the market to buy a piece of fruit. By the time we got there, it was closed for the lunch hour and wouldn´t open again until 6 p.m. It was nice to see the building, though, which is covered in blue and yellow tile.
Now Mariana and I are sitting in a nice ¨Centro de Internet¨called Ono on the corner of Maria Cristina and San Vicente Martir. We´re paying 3 Euros an hour to use their computers, but it´s worth every centimo. We only paid 1.20 Euros per hour in Barcelona, but it was pure hell. The person to the side of me, whose elbows I became well acquainted, with smoked non-stop. Four teenage boys who were playing the online game World of Warcraft cussed and smoked non-stop for an hour and a half. (I knew they were playing WOW, because one of my reporters--Miguel Serna--from last semester wrote about it. He´s an avid player.) One of the kids held forth with a running commentary the entire session and two out of his three words should not have been uttered in public. I finally had enough. I was trying to concentrate and type as fast as I could. I said, ¨Oye. Por favor. Bajalo!¨(Listen. Please. Turn it down.¨) He said, ¨Si. Bueno.¨ (Yes. Fine.) I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, but 15 seconds later, he was back at it, even louder if possible. (Perhaps I should have asked him to talk louder and curse more? Reverse psychology. I haven´t entered the teenage parenting years yet, so I wasn´t prepared.) Meanwhile, a French girl, also a smoker, sat down next to me. She proceeded to let out the biggest burp I´ve ever heard. (Reminded me of Amy Stubblefield´s childhood dog, Ming, who was quite a burper. The Stubblefield family would always reply, ¨Ming, did you get any on you?¨) I felt like asking the French girl if she got any on her, but I didn´t think she´d get it. Instead, I just looked at her, and she said with a very cute, not ridiculous, French accent, ¨I´m so embarrassed.¨ We both laughed. I told her it was okay, and I also told her I couldn´t believe the kid in the room could talk non-stop for an hour and a half. Mercifully, our time ran out. As we descended the narrow staircase, the kid was still talking.
We´ve got to leave to meet up with our group. I hope paella is on tonight´s menu. Valencia is famous for it. Alba, we´re thinking of you! Mañana, Granada. Stay tuned!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Barcelona, Spain
We arrived in Barcelona last night after a brief stop in Pamplona. Blair and I walked the entire ¨running of the bulls¨ route. It was much shorter than we expected. However, I´m sure if you´ve got a herd of angry bulls chasing you, it seems much longer. (Spectators hit the bulls with rolled up newspapers to make the bulls see red. I think I´d be carrying my own newspaper to beat back the spectators.) Gary, our guide, said the entire run takes about three minutes, and it´s all uphill. I also didn´t realize it´s not just one run; it´s a week´s worth of runs, all during San Fermin´s Feast Week. A small altar to San Fermin can be seen near where the race begins. I wonder what he thinks of all the hoopla?
Gary pointed out the two most dangerous spots on the route. The first is where the runners make a 90-degree turn from one narrow street onto another narrow street. The second most dangerous point is when everyone is dashing into the bull ring at the end of the race. On the weekends, about 3,000 runners participate, and a bottleneck is created at the entrance. A giant statue of Ernest Hemingway sits just outside of the bullring taking it all in. He´s the one who put Pamplona on the map, so they honored him with a statue.
After walking the route, we went into their plaza mayor, where some sort of street festival was going on. A bicyle-powered centrifugal force amusement ride was a main feature. We watched two young (12ish) boys strapped onto bicycles pedal their way to a complete 360-degree circle. I got dizzy just watching them. Over and over and over they went. It´s what I imagined I could do as a kid swinging, if I just pumped my legs hard enough.
From Pamplona, we continued our journey to Barcelona. Everyone agreed that San Sebastian had been the high point of the trip so far. It is a gorgeous place. The scenery (think stunning ocean view) alone is worth the trip. Throw in the mouth-watering food, the energetic street action and 70 degree temperatures and you´ve got heaven on earth.
Six of us ended our visit in San Sebastian by taking in ¨Cuatro Voces,¨ a flamenco ballet by Eva Yerbabuena, a dancer/choreographer who won the national prize for best flamenco dancer in 2001. (Her footwork was beyond amazing. Sounded like machine guns at times. I didn´t know feet could move so fast with such perfect timing.) She was also featured in a recent film by a British director called ¨The Women of Flamenco¨. I´m not familiar with it, but I want to see it when we return home. The ballet was in the beautifully renovated Victoria Eugenia theatre, which boasts four levels of gilded seating and a cherub-painted ceiling. The voices of the four men who sang while Eva danced gave me goosebumps. Her dance troupe was equally outstanding, especially the male dancers. The two guitarrists, the flautist and the percussionist also played their hearts out.
We arrived at our hotel outside of Barcelona a little after 8 p.m., and we had dinner at 8:30. (We watched ¨Billy Elliott¨ in Spanish with English subtitles on the bus. We also saw most of Austin´s own Richard Linklater´s film, ¨Before Sunrise¨.) The name of our hotel is NH Sant Boi. Lovely. Very modern. Our only complaint is that the hotel is located in an industrial park, far from downtown. We left the hotel at 9 a.m. this morning for a ¨vuelta¨ (circle) around Barcelona. Our first stop was the Parque Guell, Antonio Gaudi´s fanciful park that´s covered in brightly colored mosaics. What a place! It sort of reminds me of San Antonio´s Sunken Gardens...or what the Sunken Gardens could be. We then went to Gaudi´s unfinished cathedral, La Sagrada Familia, whose spires remind me of hand-dripped sandcastles. From there, we went to the top of Monjuic, where we ran into a group of traveling alumni from the University of Texas at Austin. After trading hook ém horns signs, we saw a gorgeous view of the entire city, and then we passed by the Olympic Stadium. I took a picture of the torch for Stacey Johnson, Palo Alto´s Dean of Arts and Humanities, who was an Olympic fencer. The guide reminded us that Barcelona is where Greg Louganis won all of his medals for diving in 1992. I remember what a thrill it was to watch him on TV.
We then were dropped off at Plaza Catalunya, and several of us headed down Las Ramblas to the Boqueria Market. I took a photo of a street performer dressed up like Salvador Dali. He did Dali proud. (I´ll load photos of these different sights when we get back to San Antonio, when I´m not being charged by the minute for an Internet connection.) Blair and I got slices of jamon serrano and Gallego cheese to make a sandwich. Scrumptious. We then sat on the sidewalk, ate our lunch and watched the world pass by.
Our next destination was the Cathedral. Gary told us that street musicians hang out in the area around there. We saw an opera singer, a harpist, and a couple of classical guitarists. The acoustics did justice to the talented performers. We also were able to pat a carved turtle that´s supposed to bring good luck. We then dashed into the Aragon Museum, which had a lovely courtyard and ancient illuminated manuscripts, some dating back to the 1300s...way before Columbus ever made his way to the Americas. Just goes to show you the importance of leaving a record behind.
We then walked up Avenida Porta de l´Angel, toward Plaza de Catalunya. More fantastic street musicians. This group was a clarinetist and a percussionist, who played something I´d never seen before. Sounded like a steel drum, but it was the shape of a walnut. Not exactly round, but rounded. Way cool. A woman was sitting next to the group. She was completely bald and wore sandals with bright orange socks. Quite the fashion statement. I don´t know that I´d be brave enough to pull that look off, but it worked for her.
Nature called, so we dashed into McDonald´s. We paid back their hospitality by purchasing .60 Euro vanilla ice cream cones that we ate on benches outside. While there, we ran into some friends from San Antonio. Small world! Nicolas teaches math and physics at UTSA, but his specialty is architectural theory. He´s in Barcelona to give a talk. His daughter, Sofia, is in Aedan´s dance class. His youngest daughter, Alexia, was with him. After we caught our breath, we headed down Passeig de Gracia to see more of Gaudi´s architecture. His famous Casa Batllo, a home he designed for a wealthy family, is on a block called ¨La Manzana de la Discordia¨ (Block of Discord) because of three different architectural styles that clash. In my humble opinion, Gaudi won the fight hands down. One of our fellow travelers, Kim, paid the 16 Euros to see the inside. I´ll probably regret that I didn´t go in, but you´ve got to save something to see on future visits. We then walked down to Casa Mila (La Pedrera) another of Gaudi´s masterpieces. It´s pretty, but I have to say that I like his more colorful (mosaic) work better.
After typing this blog in a smoke-filled cibercafe with a gang of teenagers whose language would make sailors blush, we´re headed back to the Plaza Catalunya to meet the bus at 6:30 p.m. Dinner at the hotel at 7:30. Collapse at 8;30 p.m. (Mariana says she´s going to head back to town tonight. I said she must be part vampire.) We´re off to Valencia tomorrow!
Gary pointed out the two most dangerous spots on the route. The first is where the runners make a 90-degree turn from one narrow street onto another narrow street. The second most dangerous point is when everyone is dashing into the bull ring at the end of the race. On the weekends, about 3,000 runners participate, and a bottleneck is created at the entrance. A giant statue of Ernest Hemingway sits just outside of the bullring taking it all in. He´s the one who put Pamplona on the map, so they honored him with a statue.
After walking the route, we went into their plaza mayor, where some sort of street festival was going on. A bicyle-powered centrifugal force amusement ride was a main feature. We watched two young (12ish) boys strapped onto bicycles pedal their way to a complete 360-degree circle. I got dizzy just watching them. Over and over and over they went. It´s what I imagined I could do as a kid swinging, if I just pumped my legs hard enough.
From Pamplona, we continued our journey to Barcelona. Everyone agreed that San Sebastian had been the high point of the trip so far. It is a gorgeous place. The scenery (think stunning ocean view) alone is worth the trip. Throw in the mouth-watering food, the energetic street action and 70 degree temperatures and you´ve got heaven on earth.
Six of us ended our visit in San Sebastian by taking in ¨Cuatro Voces,¨ a flamenco ballet by Eva Yerbabuena, a dancer/choreographer who won the national prize for best flamenco dancer in 2001. (Her footwork was beyond amazing. Sounded like machine guns at times. I didn´t know feet could move so fast with such perfect timing.) She was also featured in a recent film by a British director called ¨The Women of Flamenco¨. I´m not familiar with it, but I want to see it when we return home. The ballet was in the beautifully renovated Victoria Eugenia theatre, which boasts four levels of gilded seating and a cherub-painted ceiling. The voices of the four men who sang while Eva danced gave me goosebumps. Her dance troupe was equally outstanding, especially the male dancers. The two guitarrists, the flautist and the percussionist also played their hearts out.
We arrived at our hotel outside of Barcelona a little after 8 p.m., and we had dinner at 8:30. (We watched ¨Billy Elliott¨ in Spanish with English subtitles on the bus. We also saw most of Austin´s own Richard Linklater´s film, ¨Before Sunrise¨.) The name of our hotel is NH Sant Boi. Lovely. Very modern. Our only complaint is that the hotel is located in an industrial park, far from downtown. We left the hotel at 9 a.m. this morning for a ¨vuelta¨ (circle) around Barcelona. Our first stop was the Parque Guell, Antonio Gaudi´s fanciful park that´s covered in brightly colored mosaics. What a place! It sort of reminds me of San Antonio´s Sunken Gardens...or what the Sunken Gardens could be. We then went to Gaudi´s unfinished cathedral, La Sagrada Familia, whose spires remind me of hand-dripped sandcastles. From there, we went to the top of Monjuic, where we ran into a group of traveling alumni from the University of Texas at Austin. After trading hook ém horns signs, we saw a gorgeous view of the entire city, and then we passed by the Olympic Stadium. I took a picture of the torch for Stacey Johnson, Palo Alto´s Dean of Arts and Humanities, who was an Olympic fencer. The guide reminded us that Barcelona is where Greg Louganis won all of his medals for diving in 1992. I remember what a thrill it was to watch him on TV.
We then were dropped off at Plaza Catalunya, and several of us headed down Las Ramblas to the Boqueria Market. I took a photo of a street performer dressed up like Salvador Dali. He did Dali proud. (I´ll load photos of these different sights when we get back to San Antonio, when I´m not being charged by the minute for an Internet connection.) Blair and I got slices of jamon serrano and Gallego cheese to make a sandwich. Scrumptious. We then sat on the sidewalk, ate our lunch and watched the world pass by.
Our next destination was the Cathedral. Gary told us that street musicians hang out in the area around there. We saw an opera singer, a harpist, and a couple of classical guitarists. The acoustics did justice to the talented performers. We also were able to pat a carved turtle that´s supposed to bring good luck. We then dashed into the Aragon Museum, which had a lovely courtyard and ancient illuminated manuscripts, some dating back to the 1300s...way before Columbus ever made his way to the Americas. Just goes to show you the importance of leaving a record behind.
We then walked up Avenida Porta de l´Angel, toward Plaza de Catalunya. More fantastic street musicians. This group was a clarinetist and a percussionist, who played something I´d never seen before. Sounded like a steel drum, but it was the shape of a walnut. Not exactly round, but rounded. Way cool. A woman was sitting next to the group. She was completely bald and wore sandals with bright orange socks. Quite the fashion statement. I don´t know that I´d be brave enough to pull that look off, but it worked for her.
Nature called, so we dashed into McDonald´s. We paid back their hospitality by purchasing .60 Euro vanilla ice cream cones that we ate on benches outside. While there, we ran into some friends from San Antonio. Small world! Nicolas teaches math and physics at UTSA, but his specialty is architectural theory. He´s in Barcelona to give a talk. His daughter, Sofia, is in Aedan´s dance class. His youngest daughter, Alexia, was with him. After we caught our breath, we headed down Passeig de Gracia to see more of Gaudi´s architecture. His famous Casa Batllo, a home he designed for a wealthy family, is on a block called ¨La Manzana de la Discordia¨ (Block of Discord) because of three different architectural styles that clash. In my humble opinion, Gaudi won the fight hands down. One of our fellow travelers, Kim, paid the 16 Euros to see the inside. I´ll probably regret that I didn´t go in, but you´ve got to save something to see on future visits. We then walked down to Casa Mila (La Pedrera) another of Gaudi´s masterpieces. It´s pretty, but I have to say that I like his more colorful (mosaic) work better.
After typing this blog in a smoke-filled cibercafe with a gang of teenagers whose language would make sailors blush, we´re headed back to the Plaza Catalunya to meet the bus at 6:30 p.m. Dinner at the hotel at 7:30. Collapse at 8;30 p.m. (Mariana says she´s going to head back to town tonight. I said she must be part vampire.) We´re off to Valencia tomorrow!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
San Sebastian, Spain
Although Roddy Stinson would grouse about an expensive ¨foreign junket¨ at taxpayers´ expense, San Antonio´s city planners could learn a thing or two (or a thousand) from those in charge of making Bilbao and San Sebastian two cities that my students and I never want to leave. BTW (by the way), a big thank you to the Express-News for linking our blogs to their website.
On Friday, we left Burgos and drove four hours north to Bilbao, which I hadn´t visited since 1981. The drive was spectacular: rolling hills, blue skies, bright red poppies against green, green grass, and rocky terrain. The lack of visual pollution (billboards) allows you to focus on the gorgeous landscape. We also managed to review the chapters in our history and creative nonfiction textbooks with our students in our classroom on wheels.
Those in charge of Bilbao´s urban planning have made the most out of the last 26 years. Bilbao is on the international map for being the home of Frank Gehry´s architectural masterpiece, the Guggenheim Museum. Ever since I learned about the museum, which opened in 1997, I´ve wanted to visit. I was not disappointed. From Jeff Koons´giant flower-covered dog to Richard Serra´s ¨The Matter of Time¨ installation to a giant spider sculpture by Louise Bourgeois to the building itself, all I can say is WOW. Kim, one of the travelers, said, ¨I wish you´d stop taking me places that make me cry.¨ She also got verklept in the Prado in Madrid. Seriously, at times you feel overwhelmed by the beauty. Serra´s giant installation, which you walk through, encourages you to become part of the art. Beyond cool. Put the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao on your list of places to visit before you die. (Venice and New York City also boast Guggenheim Museums of their own, but they must feel like ugly stepsisters ever since Cinderella, I mean Bilbao, hit the scene.)
Before our 4 p.m. tour of the museum, we had a chance to walk around Bilbao. We started in the Casco Viejo, old town, and made our way over to Zubiarte, a new high-end commercial center (mall), via the pedestrian/bicycle path/electric train passageway that runs alongside the Rio Bilbao. Casey, my mother´s traveling companion, said Aedan, my daughter, was having a grand mall seizure. She was tired of the old town and wanted to get over to the new. After lunch in the mall, we walked back to a children´s playground just outside of the museum where Aedan was able to climb and spin. After our tour, where we were given audio handsets to learn more about the art on display, we jumped on the bus to drive one hour further northeast to San Sebastian. Our hotel is actually in Irun, even closer to the French border than San Sebastian. Dinner, served on white linen table cloths, was at 8:30 p.m. Mariana and I stayed late after dinner to read over everyone´s blogs. So far, so good, but more attention needs to be paid to content along with grammar, punctuation and spelling.
Today, we got to sleep in late, a luxury! We woke up at 8 a.m. so we could meet downstairs for breakfast at 8:45. We left the hotel at 9:30 and drove into San Sebastian, where we picked up our local tour guide Bond, James Bond. (His name is really Eduardo, but that´s how he introduced himself.) What a card! He kept us laughing throughout the city, but he also imparted very interesting (Queen Isabel II lived in San Sebastian in a castle on the Playa de La Concha. She went swimming in the Mar Cantabrico (Cantabrian Ocean) daily, but she didn´t walk down to the beach. A horse-drawn carriage ferried her to and from the water.) and useful (places to eat, bathroom stops) information about the town. This is my third visit to San Sebastian (1982 and 1990 previously), and the city has become even more lovely since those trips. The view from Monte Urgull is breathtaking. Like Bilbao, San Sebastian gives primacy to people, not cars. Wide sidewalks accommodate pedestrians, bicycle riders, skateboarders and in-line skaters. It doesn´t seem that anyone is sitting at home watching television. Everyone (old, young, male and female) is out on the streets enjoying the fresh air and beautiful surroundings. Dogs abound. Too many cute ones to count.
After the tour, Blair, Aedan and I dropped our stuff in a public shower/restroom on the beach and we walked with Steve to the city´s ¨parte vieja¨ (old part) for lunch. I stopped and asked a local where we should eat. He recommended Bar Sport and Munto on Calle Fermin Calbeton. Am I ever glad I asked for his advice! At the Bar Sport, Aedan got a Fanta (orange soda), I got a tinto (red wine), and Blair and Steve ordered a beer (Mahou, a Spanish cerveza). My tinto was .85 Euros, the beer was 1.75 Euros, and the Fanta was 1.90 Euros. We told Aedan, who´s 10, that she´s going to have to start drinking red wine! (BTW, one Euro is $1.40, or at least that is what the exchange rate was at Frost Bank when we left San Antonio.)
For pintxos (pronounced pinchos, which is what they call tapas here in the Basque country), I had a jamon, queso and white asparagus concoction. Delicious. I then asked for a tortilla española, my first since returning to Spain. (Tortilla española is a potato-egg omelette made in a cast iron skillet with onions and olive oil that is then cut into pie-shaped wedges.) It was the best one I´ve ever had. Blair said, ¨Ever?¨ I replied, ¨Ever,¨ and I meant it.
We then went over to Munto, and I asked for membrillo con queso y nuez. (Membrillo is a jelly-like food that´s made of fruit. It was served with a wedge of cheese and a walnut on top of a baguette slice.) We chatted with the locals next to us, and they explained that Eskerrik Asko Etortzeagatik, the phrase printed on the napkin, meant ¨Thank you for coming!¨ The Basque language, Euskera, is not like any other language on the European continent. Some believe it is an ancient language, perhaps tied to Atlantis. No one knows for sure how it developed.
From lunch, Aedan, Blair and I walked over to the Buen Pastor (Good Shepherd) Cathedral. It was closed, which made Aedan happy, because she was ready to hit the beach. Skateboarders were tearing up the wide sidewalks behind the cathedral. It was fun to stop and watch them jump. I walked back with Blair and Aedan to the public showers/restrooms before heading out to find this Internet connection at a place called Zarr@net on the Calle San Lorenzo in the old city. Nice place with plenty of computers.
We´re meeting at the bus at 7:30 p.m. Dinner back at the hotel at 8:30 p.m. Tomorrow, we´re off to Barcelona with a stop in Pamplona. No bulls, but we can pretend, can´t we?
On Friday, we left Burgos and drove four hours north to Bilbao, which I hadn´t visited since 1981. The drive was spectacular: rolling hills, blue skies, bright red poppies against green, green grass, and rocky terrain. The lack of visual pollution (billboards) allows you to focus on the gorgeous landscape. We also managed to review the chapters in our history and creative nonfiction textbooks with our students in our classroom on wheels.
Those in charge of Bilbao´s urban planning have made the most out of the last 26 years. Bilbao is on the international map for being the home of Frank Gehry´s architectural masterpiece, the Guggenheim Museum. Ever since I learned about the museum, which opened in 1997, I´ve wanted to visit. I was not disappointed. From Jeff Koons´giant flower-covered dog to Richard Serra´s ¨The Matter of Time¨ installation to a giant spider sculpture by Louise Bourgeois to the building itself, all I can say is WOW. Kim, one of the travelers, said, ¨I wish you´d stop taking me places that make me cry.¨ She also got verklept in the Prado in Madrid. Seriously, at times you feel overwhelmed by the beauty. Serra´s giant installation, which you walk through, encourages you to become part of the art. Beyond cool. Put the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao on your list of places to visit before you die. (Venice and New York City also boast Guggenheim Museums of their own, but they must feel like ugly stepsisters ever since Cinderella, I mean Bilbao, hit the scene.)
Before our 4 p.m. tour of the museum, we had a chance to walk around Bilbao. We started in the Casco Viejo, old town, and made our way over to Zubiarte, a new high-end commercial center (mall), via the pedestrian/bicycle path/electric train passageway that runs alongside the Rio Bilbao. Casey, my mother´s traveling companion, said Aedan, my daughter, was having a grand mall seizure. She was tired of the old town and wanted to get over to the new. After lunch in the mall, we walked back to a children´s playground just outside of the museum where Aedan was able to climb and spin. After our tour, where we were given audio handsets to learn more about the art on display, we jumped on the bus to drive one hour further northeast to San Sebastian. Our hotel is actually in Irun, even closer to the French border than San Sebastian. Dinner, served on white linen table cloths, was at 8:30 p.m. Mariana and I stayed late after dinner to read over everyone´s blogs. So far, so good, but more attention needs to be paid to content along with grammar, punctuation and spelling.
Today, we got to sleep in late, a luxury! We woke up at 8 a.m. so we could meet downstairs for breakfast at 8:45. We left the hotel at 9:30 and drove into San Sebastian, where we picked up our local tour guide Bond, James Bond. (His name is really Eduardo, but that´s how he introduced himself.) What a card! He kept us laughing throughout the city, but he also imparted very interesting (Queen Isabel II lived in San Sebastian in a castle on the Playa de La Concha. She went swimming in the Mar Cantabrico (Cantabrian Ocean) daily, but she didn´t walk down to the beach. A horse-drawn carriage ferried her to and from the water.) and useful (places to eat, bathroom stops) information about the town. This is my third visit to San Sebastian (1982 and 1990 previously), and the city has become even more lovely since those trips. The view from Monte Urgull is breathtaking. Like Bilbao, San Sebastian gives primacy to people, not cars. Wide sidewalks accommodate pedestrians, bicycle riders, skateboarders and in-line skaters. It doesn´t seem that anyone is sitting at home watching television. Everyone (old, young, male and female) is out on the streets enjoying the fresh air and beautiful surroundings. Dogs abound. Too many cute ones to count.
After the tour, Blair, Aedan and I dropped our stuff in a public shower/restroom on the beach and we walked with Steve to the city´s ¨parte vieja¨ (old part) for lunch. I stopped and asked a local where we should eat. He recommended Bar Sport and Munto on Calle Fermin Calbeton. Am I ever glad I asked for his advice! At the Bar Sport, Aedan got a Fanta (orange soda), I got a tinto (red wine), and Blair and Steve ordered a beer (Mahou, a Spanish cerveza). My tinto was .85 Euros, the beer was 1.75 Euros, and the Fanta was 1.90 Euros. We told Aedan, who´s 10, that she´s going to have to start drinking red wine! (BTW, one Euro is $1.40, or at least that is what the exchange rate was at Frost Bank when we left San Antonio.)
For pintxos (pronounced pinchos, which is what they call tapas here in the Basque country), I had a jamon, queso and white asparagus concoction. Delicious. I then asked for a tortilla española, my first since returning to Spain. (Tortilla española is a potato-egg omelette made in a cast iron skillet with onions and olive oil that is then cut into pie-shaped wedges.) It was the best one I´ve ever had. Blair said, ¨Ever?¨ I replied, ¨Ever,¨ and I meant it.
We then went over to Munto, and I asked for membrillo con queso y nuez. (Membrillo is a jelly-like food that´s made of fruit. It was served with a wedge of cheese and a walnut on top of a baguette slice.) We chatted with the locals next to us, and they explained that Eskerrik Asko Etortzeagatik, the phrase printed on the napkin, meant ¨Thank you for coming!¨ The Basque language, Euskera, is not like any other language on the European continent. Some believe it is an ancient language, perhaps tied to Atlantis. No one knows for sure how it developed.
From lunch, Aedan, Blair and I walked over to the Buen Pastor (Good Shepherd) Cathedral. It was closed, which made Aedan happy, because she was ready to hit the beach. Skateboarders were tearing up the wide sidewalks behind the cathedral. It was fun to stop and watch them jump. I walked back with Blair and Aedan to the public showers/restrooms before heading out to find this Internet connection at a place called Zarr@net on the Calle San Lorenzo in the old city. Nice place with plenty of computers.
We´re meeting at the bus at 7:30 p.m. Dinner back at the hotel at 8:30 p.m. Tomorrow, we´re off to Barcelona with a stop in Pamplona. No bulls, but we can pretend, can´t we?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Burgos, Spain
To stay healthy, it´s recommended that you walk 10,000 steps a day. In Spain, no problem achieving that goal. Walking around Madrid yesterday, I logged 36,028 steps!My pedometer was panting. No wonder I hit the bed at 10:30 p.m. hecho polvo...ground into dust! What a day! What a city! Madrid has got it going. The energy in the streets is invigorating. People out walking, talking, laughing, enjoying life. I think a pedestrian culture lends itself to a higher (better) quality of life. You get out, rub shoulders, breathe the air, smell the (delicious) smells. You live outside of your hermetically sealed bubble (office, car, house).
We enjoyed an incredible breakfast at our hotel, Tryp Norte near Chamartin train station, and met in the lobby at 9:30 a.m. to take the metro to the Prado. It remains one of the greatest art museums in the world. Mother, Casey, Blair, Aedan and I soaked in the works of art by Velazquez, Goya and Bosch, among others. ¨Las Meninas¨ by Velazquez makes everything else pale in comparison, I think. However, Bosch´s ¨Garden of Earthly Delights¨ still gives me a thrill. When I was in college, I learned that he painted the triptych just after Columbus landed in America. His dark view of the unspoiled land (paradise), human degredation of said land, and hell (think end of the world) pulls you in. Take a look at it when you have a chance.
From the Prado, we walked down Castellana Avenue to the Bank of España metro stop to ride to the Canal metro stop. We dropped off eight pounds (literally) of Aunt Aggie De´s Pralines (made in Sinton, Texas) to my Spanish family that I lived with in 1981-1982. It was great to see Pilar, my Spanish mom who just turned 80 but looks like she´s 60, and Paco, my Spanish father, who also looks much younger than his 80+ years. (Life in Spain definitely agrees with them.) We stayed for a short while since we plan on having a big reunion with the whole family---my five Spanish sisters and their spouses and kids---when we return to Madrid.
We walked down Cea Bermudez, the street I lived on, toward Moncloa, the university area. We then went to El Corte Ingles on Princesa for lunch on the seventh floor. It felt good to sit down after such a long walk, and we enjoyed croquetas de jamon y papas fritas (ham croquettes and fried potatoes). After lunch, we cruised around the store. Didn´t buy anything. One Euro equals $1.40, so everything is very expensive. We then walked over to the Chocolateria San Gines, our favorite spot in Madrid. My mother said, ¨Someone could walk in here with a bad attitude and they´d walk out happy.¨ I agree. Chocolate, especially San Gines´ rich dark chocolate, is ambrosia of the gods. Chocolate y churros at San Gines is enough to make anyone take a plane to Spain. (I´d like to open up a franchise in San Antonio. I think it would go over big.)
From San Gines, we strolled through La Plaza Mayor, filled with artists, living ¨statues¨(people dressed up in costumes who stand completely still until you drop money into their tip jar...we saw Velazquez and a Princess Amadala-type character), people sipping coffee at outdoor cafes, and souvenir shops. One artist I spoke with gave me his card, and I learned that his name was Antonio. I told him that we were from San Antonio, Texas. He reminded me that today was Saint Anthony´s feast day. I´d forgotten. Saludos a San Antonio!(If you ever lose anything, ask Saint Anthony to help you find it. He´ll come through for you.)
We met up with the group at Kilometro Zero en La Puerta del Sol at 6:30 p.m. (All roads in Spain start and are measured from that point.) Dinner at Anonimatto. Delicious roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.
Today we left the hotel at 8:30 a.m. after another grand breakfast. I told my students not to get used to it. Breakfast in Spain in usually very meagre: coffee and a couple of cookies or a hard roll. This breakfast buffet beat all. I especially enjoyed the jamon serrano and tasty queso (cheese), not sure what kind, only that it was delicious. The bus ride to Burgos was about 4 hours. We stopped and took a stretch break on the way. The scenery enroute was spectacular: rolling hills, bright red poppies, ancient stone churches with beautiful bell towers, red tiled roofs, and no visual pollution (billboards) save for the occasional silohuette of a big black bull (toro), a liquor ad.
We have a 4 p.m. tour scheduled at the Cathedral, so I want to finish up this entry so we can grab a bite to eat before then. We´re in a ¨Cibercafe¨ called Caberet. The bartender is very nice, and he told me that he visited the U.S. (Baltimore, DC and NYC) in February. I love that the Internet connects all of us, but I especially love that we are able to travel back and forth to each other´s stomping grounds, forging new friendships and experiencing new sights, sounds, cultures, tastes, and ways of thinking, seeing and being.
We enjoyed an incredible breakfast at our hotel, Tryp Norte near Chamartin train station, and met in the lobby at 9:30 a.m. to take the metro to the Prado. It remains one of the greatest art museums in the world. Mother, Casey, Blair, Aedan and I soaked in the works of art by Velazquez, Goya and Bosch, among others. ¨Las Meninas¨ by Velazquez makes everything else pale in comparison, I think. However, Bosch´s ¨Garden of Earthly Delights¨ still gives me a thrill. When I was in college, I learned that he painted the triptych just after Columbus landed in America. His dark view of the unspoiled land (paradise), human degredation of said land, and hell (think end of the world) pulls you in. Take a look at it when you have a chance.
From the Prado, we walked down Castellana Avenue to the Bank of España metro stop to ride to the Canal metro stop. We dropped off eight pounds (literally) of Aunt Aggie De´s Pralines (made in Sinton, Texas) to my Spanish family that I lived with in 1981-1982. It was great to see Pilar, my Spanish mom who just turned 80 but looks like she´s 60, and Paco, my Spanish father, who also looks much younger than his 80+ years. (Life in Spain definitely agrees with them.) We stayed for a short while since we plan on having a big reunion with the whole family---my five Spanish sisters and their spouses and kids---when we return to Madrid.
We walked down Cea Bermudez, the street I lived on, toward Moncloa, the university area. We then went to El Corte Ingles on Princesa for lunch on the seventh floor. It felt good to sit down after such a long walk, and we enjoyed croquetas de jamon y papas fritas (ham croquettes and fried potatoes). After lunch, we cruised around the store. Didn´t buy anything. One Euro equals $1.40, so everything is very expensive. We then walked over to the Chocolateria San Gines, our favorite spot in Madrid. My mother said, ¨Someone could walk in here with a bad attitude and they´d walk out happy.¨ I agree. Chocolate, especially San Gines´ rich dark chocolate, is ambrosia of the gods. Chocolate y churros at San Gines is enough to make anyone take a plane to Spain. (I´d like to open up a franchise in San Antonio. I think it would go over big.)
From San Gines, we strolled through La Plaza Mayor, filled with artists, living ¨statues¨(people dressed up in costumes who stand completely still until you drop money into their tip jar...we saw Velazquez and a Princess Amadala-type character), people sipping coffee at outdoor cafes, and souvenir shops. One artist I spoke with gave me his card, and I learned that his name was Antonio. I told him that we were from San Antonio, Texas. He reminded me that today was Saint Anthony´s feast day. I´d forgotten. Saludos a San Antonio!(If you ever lose anything, ask Saint Anthony to help you find it. He´ll come through for you.)
We met up with the group at Kilometro Zero en La Puerta del Sol at 6:30 p.m. (All roads in Spain start and are measured from that point.) Dinner at Anonimatto. Delicious roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.
Today we left the hotel at 8:30 a.m. after another grand breakfast. I told my students not to get used to it. Breakfast in Spain in usually very meagre: coffee and a couple of cookies or a hard roll. This breakfast buffet beat all. I especially enjoyed the jamon serrano and tasty queso (cheese), not sure what kind, only that it was delicious. The bus ride to Burgos was about 4 hours. We stopped and took a stretch break on the way. The scenery enroute was spectacular: rolling hills, bright red poppies, ancient stone churches with beautiful bell towers, red tiled roofs, and no visual pollution (billboards) save for the occasional silohuette of a big black bull (toro), a liquor ad.
We have a 4 p.m. tour scheduled at the Cathedral, so I want to finish up this entry so we can grab a bite to eat before then. We´re in a ¨Cibercafe¨ called Caberet. The bartender is very nice, and he told me that he visited the U.S. (Baltimore, DC and NYC) in February. I love that the Internet connects all of us, but I especially love that we are able to travel back and forth to each other´s stomping grounds, forging new friendships and experiencing new sights, sounds, cultures, tastes, and ways of thinking, seeing and being.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Madrid, Spain: We´re here!
It´s good to be ¨home¨! (Madrid was my home during my junior year of college, and it always feels good to be back.) We just ate our fill of paella, carne con papas, and neopolitan ice cream at El Museo de Vino near the Puerta del Sol. Now we´re typing in our blogs on deadline. Gary, our tour director, wants us to meet at 9 p.m. to head back to the hotel.
The flights from San Antonio to Newark and Newark to Madrid were good. Cramped, but good. Everyone´s luggage, but mine and Sarah´s, arrived without a problem, and ours arrived on the next flight. (Thank goodness! The Continental employee who helped us was an American--from Honolulu--who´s lived in Madrid for the past 25 years. I told her that I understood why.) On the plane, we met a group from the Canary Islands, who´d been visiting San Antonio for a week. They did a special misa folklorico (folkloric mass) at San Fernando Cathedral while they were in town. I´m sorry I didn´t know anything about it, or I would have gone. I believe they also performed at the Folklife Festival. Nice people! They invited us to visit the Canaries on our next trip. I´d love to take them up on the offer.
From the hotel, we got on a tour bus and traveled down Castellana, a lovely tree-lined boulevard with beautiful red and yellow flowers designed to look like the flag of Spain. We passed the Real Madrid Soccer Stadium, a giant El Corte Ingles (with a mermaid billboard), a Botero sculpture (giant hand), the U.S. Embassy, a square dedicated to Christopher Columbus, the Palacio de Comunicaciones--an unbelievably beautiful post office, and Cibeles fountain. We then turned onto Alcala and then onto Gran Via, two of Madrid´s main streets (think Fifth Avenue). Tons of shops, too many McDonald´s, and giant billboards for American films (Ocean´s 13, Spiderman 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean 3).
We traveled to the Palacio Real, Spain´s royal palace, for a guided tour. Until I read ¨The History of Spain,¨ I didn´t realize the king who built the palace was originally from France, so that´s why the palace looks so French. Think Versailles. Rich tapestries in gold, silver and silk, parquet wood floors, marble for days, gold everywhere, painted ceilings, and on and on. The ¨Smoking Room¨ is my favorite room. Chinese-style enamel everywhere. The gigantic dining hall isn´t too shabby either. (I would love to go to a state dinner there some day!)
From the Palacio Real, we made a stop at La Plaza de España to see a sculpture of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. When we return to Madrid at the end of the trip, our hotel will be nearby. Great location, close to everything I want to see and visit.
Dinner at the Museo de Vino was quite good. I sat with some of our Alaskan busmates. I also met a family from San Antonio whose daughter is studying in Madrid for the summer. Small world!
Stay tuned for more scoop. Right now, we´re all tired after our all-day travel across the Atlantic. (Although not as tired as our friends from Alaska. It took them 26 hours of non-stop travel to get here!) It´s good to be back in España. Thanks for traveling with us!
The flights from San Antonio to Newark and Newark to Madrid were good. Cramped, but good. Everyone´s luggage, but mine and Sarah´s, arrived without a problem, and ours arrived on the next flight. (Thank goodness! The Continental employee who helped us was an American--from Honolulu--who´s lived in Madrid for the past 25 years. I told her that I understood why.) On the plane, we met a group from the Canary Islands, who´d been visiting San Antonio for a week. They did a special misa folklorico (folkloric mass) at San Fernando Cathedral while they were in town. I´m sorry I didn´t know anything about it, or I would have gone. I believe they also performed at the Folklife Festival. Nice people! They invited us to visit the Canaries on our next trip. I´d love to take them up on the offer.
From the hotel, we got on a tour bus and traveled down Castellana, a lovely tree-lined boulevard with beautiful red and yellow flowers designed to look like the flag of Spain. We passed the Real Madrid Soccer Stadium, a giant El Corte Ingles (with a mermaid billboard), a Botero sculpture (giant hand), the U.S. Embassy, a square dedicated to Christopher Columbus, the Palacio de Comunicaciones--an unbelievably beautiful post office, and Cibeles fountain. We then turned onto Alcala and then onto Gran Via, two of Madrid´s main streets (think Fifth Avenue). Tons of shops, too many McDonald´s, and giant billboards for American films (Ocean´s 13, Spiderman 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean 3).
We traveled to the Palacio Real, Spain´s royal palace, for a guided tour. Until I read ¨The History of Spain,¨ I didn´t realize the king who built the palace was originally from France, so that´s why the palace looks so French. Think Versailles. Rich tapestries in gold, silver and silk, parquet wood floors, marble for days, gold everywhere, painted ceilings, and on and on. The ¨Smoking Room¨ is my favorite room. Chinese-style enamel everywhere. The gigantic dining hall isn´t too shabby either. (I would love to go to a state dinner there some day!)
From the Palacio Real, we made a stop at La Plaza de España to see a sculpture of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. When we return to Madrid at the end of the trip, our hotel will be nearby. Great location, close to everything I want to see and visit.
Dinner at the Museo de Vino was quite good. I sat with some of our Alaskan busmates. I also met a family from San Antonio whose daughter is studying in Madrid for the summer. Small world!
Stay tuned for more scoop. Right now, we´re all tired after our all-day travel across the Atlantic. (Although not as tired as our friends from Alaska. It took them 26 hours of non-stop travel to get here!) It´s good to be back in España. Thanks for traveling with us!
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