The Festival of the Toro Embolao (Embolado for those of us that don’t speak Andalu’)

Welcome to the Festival!

When many people think of Spain they think of bulls- bull fights, bull rings, matadors, big black bull billboards on the side of the highway, the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona in June, etc. So whether this is the true image of Spain or not (I would argue that Spain and Spanish people and culture are much more than bulls) I decided that this time in Spain shouldn’t miss out on something bull related- but I was hoping to see something a little less horrific than a bull being tortured and slaughtered to death in front of a cheering crowd. My opportunity came on what was nothing less than Easter Sunday. Emily and I celebrated Easter in a truly small-town Andalusian way… by watching a bull run through the streets while nervously hoping the crowd would stop taunting it long enough to realize their proximity to a 1,500 pound wild animal and to run away.


An important part of the festival...the gate allowing people to hide and escape the bull.

All roads connected to the town’s main street were gated off with medal prison-like bars that allowed people to pass through and crowds to gather and watch the madness. The first bull was released at 12:00 and stayed in the street for an hour. Then from 1pm to 3pm people went to bars, hung out in the street and drank, and celebrated with music, food, friends, and sunshine. Again at 3pm a different, ‘fresh’ bull was released into the street and the now drunk townspeople showed their alcohol induced bravery/stupidity by again taunting and touching the bull so that it would chase them.


Matadors in training.


The bull staring at its company.


Look at the lightpost!

Thankfully I did not see anybody gored by the bull and in the end the bulls get taken back to the country to tell their bull friends about the strange experience they just had. Although they don’t suffer physically (which is also a lie…one bull fell on its side on the cobblestone street and couldn’t get back up) the mental anxiety that this type of taunting must produce makes me feel that this kind of festival, although fun, shouldn’t revolve around animal torture. Anyway, it was interesting whether I believe in it or not and I was happy to celebrate Easter in the company of good friends. And to top it all off, we shared a wonderful Spanish dinner of atún machada (1 lb of fresh tuna cooked in lard), cous cous, fresh veggies, and wine.

Typical Espan-eesh

This was the sign outside of the cathedral tower that Emily and I wanted to climb.

Galicia

Santiago de Compostela is a small city with a huge cathedral and a special history. A really long time ago the remains of Saint Santiago (I forgot his English name) were found at the site of the current cathedral. The Catholic Church decided to build a monument in his honor, a cathedral that would hold his remains.

According to tradition, when you go inside the cathedral you have to give the bust of Santiago, which sits on top of his tomb, a hug and you have to touch, or headbutt, your head to the back of his. I don’t know why exactly, but tradition says this is what you do so this is what I did. In the cathedral is also the largest botafumaero in the world (a botafumaero is the incense dispenser used in the catholic church). It weighs 54 kilos and it takes eight men to pull the ropes of the pully system to get it to swing over the congregation. It was historically used to cover up the stinky smell of the pilgrims.


Santiago de Compostela is the last city of the Camino de Santiago, the pilgrimage that starts in southern France and crosses northern Spain, covering over 800km and lasting about 30-33 days. Before coming to Santiago I had wanted (you know, like “oh that would be kind of cool to do someday” kind of a feeling) to do this pilgrimage at some time in my life, but being there and seeing the pilgrims sitting in front of the cathedral (especially amazing where the young women who did the walk alone) solidified and intensified my desire to do the walk. Whether religious or not, the spiritual journey is said by many to be incredibly rewarding and life changing. I have already signed Caitlyn up to be my walking buddy but if anyone else is interested (I am really serious about this…I have promised myself that I will do this, so the sooner the better) let me know. You can’t tell me you don’t want to walk 800km and spend 30+ days in northern Spain where it is more likely to rain than be sunny.

I also went to a teeny tiny fishing village called Cabo Finisterre, The End of the World. This is the westernmost point on the Iberian Peninsula and once thought to be the end of the world, literally where you would fall over the side of the Earth. Many pilgrims doing the Camino de Santiago continue their journey until they reach the coast, where they burn their clothes and throw the ashes into the wind (doesn’t this sound great?!? Okay, who wants to do it with me??).

Las Fallas

March 13-16th Emily and I headed east to the Mediterranean to see Las Fallas of Valencia. Las Fallas (which means fires/flames) is a celebration/carnival that started as a pagan ritual celebrating the coming of warm weather. The Catholic Church then adopted the festival as a tribute to the city’s patron saint, Our Lady of the Forsaken. So, the city hire specialized artists to work year round to design and build giant caricatured papier-mache sculptures called ninots. The ninots depict anything from pop-culture icons to political figures to important events of the past year.



Originally the ninots were simple, faceless wooden structures dressed in old clothes that were fed to the springtime fires in celebration of warm weather. This tradition has turned into something much more artistic, political, and expensive- the artist’s budget often reaches and exceeds 1 million euros and artists are chosen a year in advance!! Then during Fallas week the ninots, which can be 30ft tall or more, are burned to the ground as a special thank you to spring.

So to sum up, this pretty much is a celebration that gives Valencianos a reason to celebrate and party for a week (actually, the celebrations begin in January…choosing a Fallas princess, fireworks here and there, etc.), to set off about a million firecrackers and bottle rockets every day at 2pm, and to allow children to throw fire crackers anywhere and everywhere all day and all night long. There were also parades, which started at 11pm and lasted about 3 hours, and special night time pretty firework displays. And to top it all off, Emily and I were in a 10 bed hostel room in which 8 of the beds were occupied by late 20 something Italians who would get back at 5 or 6am and thought it would be a good idea to start taking pictures of us, asking us to take pictures of them, yelling, and pretty much just running amuck and causing a ruckus while 1 friend said shhhhhhhh every 2 minutes to try to quite them down. Haha, then in the morning they asked us if we heard them the night before.
Also great was our lunch time ritual of going to the market and buying fresh cheese, bread, and strawberries and a bottle of wine. Then we’d go to the plaza sit in the street and eat and drink, listen to the booming and watch the smoke of the fireworks, then walk back to the hostel for siesta. And perhaps after siesta we would go to one of the many bunuelo stands to buy some fried dough with sugar and go sit in the part and eat and rest.
The city of Valenciana, even apart from Las Fallas, is one of my favorites in Spain. In 1938 the river that ran through the city was diverted after a flood devastated the area. In the old river bed they have created a beautiful park with soccer and rugby fields, bike lanes, paved walkways, grassy areas (uncommon in much of Spain), and various gardens.

I think the thing Emily and I liked the most was this jungle gym climbing thing for kids. It was awesome, you have to crawl across it like a spider, and avoid the 15 year olds jumping up and down and trying to knock their friends off. Man, it was great.


Valencia is the city of paella...here Jose Maria and company are making paella on a wood fire in the middle of the street. The paella we ate was complete with snails that we had to pull out the shell as well as a rabbit heart/lung set. Yum yum.


Trying to climb the tree but it got in my eye.

Spring!

Spring has definitely come to southern Spain. We haven’t had rain in a few weeks (knock on wood), the temperature is in the 20s, and it stays light until about 8pm. It is absolutely wonderful. It is also strawberry season. So we had fresh Andalusian strawberries for Valentine’s day. And candy hearts that were sent with love from Emily’s friends at home.



Last week I went on a school field trip with a history class to Cadiz. Cadiz is a tiny peninsula on the southwest side coast of Spain and thought to be the oldest city in Europe. The city has two castles, a huge cathedral, beaches all around, an ancient wall completely surrounding it which protects the people from enemy cannon fire and invasion. Pretty much, this city has it all.

More impressive than the actual history of the city, was the fact that a group of high school students could take a 1 hour train ride to see centuries of history ‘in person’.


Castle Santa Catalina and fishing boats along the shore


The Cathedral in the old city center


The beach where a recent James Bond movie was filmed, the one with Halle Barry. The movie was set in Havanna, Cuba but parts were filmed in Cadiz. They say the two cities are very similar with the beach and the white building.


Old home of a trader in Cadiz. The traders always lived in the top apartments to be able to see the boats coming in on the bay.

Hiking

Spring!!! It may not seem like it at home, but spring is definitely on its way to Spain. We have been enjoying 20 degree weather, in the 70s F, for the past few days and more sun than we have had in a while. It is wonderful. Emily and I are outside on our patio everyday for lunch and siesta trying to get as much sun as we can.

Also due to the wonderful weather I have gone to the Sierra de Grazalema, the mountain range that is about 1 hour from Jerez, for the past two weekends. Last weekend I was invited by a teacher at my school to one of the small towns where she has a house. Saturday morning we did a hike through a plain in the mountains. We followed a river to a cave in the rock where all the water collects and makes a crevice in the rock. We climbed through the rocks and played in the mud and turned over stones to see what bugs we could find…it was very enjoyable. And true to Spanish style, we stopped along the way back to eat some sausage and bread and drink a bottle of wine. I think this is what we need in the Boundary Waters : ) We stayed at her house all weekend and ate some great cheese, world famous apparently, drank wine, and visited the other towns in the mountains.



This past Friday I went back with Emily and our new French roommate Lisa and three Spanish friends. We ate a traditional Spanish breakfast, toast with lard (there is also a variation…toast with lard that has pieces of pig intestine mixed in) and then made our way to the start of the trail. We had noooooo idea what we were in for. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and we had our lunch sandwiches, but it would have been nice to know that we were going to be hiking for about 6 hours. We went up one side of a ridge to view the pine forest on the other side that only grows in the shaded slopes. In this region of Spain there is a very rare type of Spanish Fur tree that is apparently no where else in the world (I have my doubts…it looked like our Christmas from the tree land). So we walked allllll the way down the other side of the ridge to a small stream at the bottom where we finally stopped and ate our lunch and had a mini siesta in the sun. Then 2.5 hours back, all uphill. We think that our Parisian roommate thinks we tried to kill her.




Part of the charm of this region of Spain and Andalucia in general is the pueblos blancos. They are white towns that you find throughout the mountains and along the coast. All the streets are made of stone and are about the width of a car and according to rule all the houses are white with black iron trimmings. They are very charming and historic because they have old Muslim neighborhoods and ruins from the 14 and 1500s.

La Culture Española

This is a song that I have ‘translated’ from Spanish to English. It is sung by a Spanish group called Jarabe de Palo and I love it. The song is called Bonito, Beautiful. The picture is from a billboard that I saw in Sevilla. “Enjoy the journey and don’t worry about the things that have solutions” Both of these things tell a lot about the Spanish and their culture. I have found that things here are more relaxed and less hurried than at home. This culture gives you time to enjoy what you are doing without worrying about the things that are coming next. That is why I love it here.

Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful
Beautiful morning
Beautiful place
Beautiful bed
From which you can see the sea
Beautiful is the day
And it has just begun, beautiful this life
Breathe, breathe, breathe

The telephone rings, my corduroy complains
Things go bad, life is heavy
To live like this shouldn’t\ interest you
To continue like this isn’t worth it
Lost has been lost, the party has just ended
And the motor that pushes the earth has stopped
Life is a joke with a sad ending
The future doesn’t exist but I tell you…

Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful

Beautiful peace, beautiful life
Beautiful to be born again each day
Beautiful truth that doesn’t sound like a lie
Beautiful friendship, beautiful laugh
Beautiful are the people
Beautiful are the people that don’t complain
Who win and who lose, that speak and don’t lie
Beautiful are the people, and for that I say…

Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful

How beautiful is everything when everything is beautiful,
How beautiful everything is going for you

Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful
The sea, the morning, the house, the shadow,
The earth, peace and life that passes.
Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful.
Your calm, your salsa, the spot on your back,
Your face, your energy on the weekend

Beautiful are the people who come and who go
Beautiful are the people that don’t stop themselves
Beautiful are the people who don’t have an age
Who listen, who understand, who have and who give

Beautiful Portet, beautiful Peret
Beautiful la rumba, beautiful José
Beautiful the breeze that isn’t in a hurry
Beautiful this day, breathe, breathe
Beautiful are the people who are real
Beautiful are the people who are different
That tremble, that feel
That live in the present
Beautiful are the people who were here but no longer are

Beautiful, everything to me seems beautiful