Basque-ing in Northern Spain

We reached Basque country some time ago but it has been tricky posting blogs without a good internet connection. San Sebastian was the recommended mid-point and we even stayed in Pension Amaiur, the recommended pension. We couldn’t have asked for a nicer spot. The reception there was just wonderful and the whole place was cute and colourful. It was also much better located than we usually are so we were right in the thick of things.

Rick recommended lots of great tapas bars so we thought we’d try a tapas crawl again. Wow, what fun THAT turned out to be! Even with the family age spread, we all had a great time. There were four or five recommended tapas bars but our favourite was the first one: Goya something. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the whole name but it has been a week or so now and my brain is a bit fuzzy. The wine was good that night too as I recall.

The Basques are a unique lot. They have somehow managed to maintain their individuality even through the Franco years. I have to wonder at the tenacity of the people living on the Iberian peninsula. Here they were, ruled by a nasty old dictator for some fifty years or so and not one, but two of their fiercely independent minded local peoples still managed to keep it all together; the Catalonians in Barcelona area and the Basques in the Northeast corner. Interesting they are both on the eastern end.

At any rate, the Basques kind of fired my imagination because their language has been around for almost 7000 years! It is the oldest European language still spoken. Wow. They also were around trading with the people in the British Isles way back when and were known for their excellent seafaring skills. Perhaps they even made it to North America? If they did, they didn’t stay long because there is no evidence of them there.

Another interesting Basque tidbit is that their capital is Guernica. This may not strike you as curious but for those of us who have been Picasso’d to death in the past few months, Guernica stands out. Picasso painted a now famous painting called “Guernica” for the 1937 Expo in Paris. The painting recalled the horror inflicted on the Basques by Hitler and Mussolini. They were trying out a new idea they had for killing people. It was called carpet bombing. They basically flattened the entire city. Odd given the Second World War hadn’t even started but Spain was in the middle of their civil war and Franco was demonstrating his ability to terrify and cripple on his way to becoming top dog. He was buddies with Hitler and Mussolini. They all shared a similar ideology. The strategy of the hour seemed to be to create as much fear as possible in order to get what you wanted. For Franco, it worked well.

This, of course, leads me to another interesting tidbit shared by Rick. Apparently, Franco wanted to get on the Hitler bandwagon after Hitler occupied France. He met with Hitler in a little town called Hendaye, also near Guernica. Fortunately for Spain, Franco was quite full of himself and presented as a boastful, pompous peacock. Hitler dismissed him as a nobody and Spain wasn’t invited to the WWII party. The alternative endings to that little story make me shudder.

We toured many of the delightful little French Basque villages, including Biarritz, a resorty beach town. Rhys and Julia had fun with the waves there but we all agreed with Rick that Saint Jean de Luz was a prettier little spot. Our day on the Spanish side was filled with a visit to the Guggenheim Modern Art Gallery along with a stop at Guernica.

The Guggenheim was a very cool building but after the mind-blowing science fiction architecture at Valencia, it couldn’t quite reach mind-blowing status. My favourite exhibit at the Guggenheim was the “Degenerate Art Collection” ostracized by Hitler. There was something very satisfying and humourous about being able to enjoy this art.

Guernica, you’ll all be pleased to know, is no longer bombed flat. It has been rebuilt. The best part is the Basque people still use the same ritual to elect their figurehead leader that they have used forever. There is a special tree behind the government building in Guernica where the new leader is sworn in. The tree has had to be replaced over time as 7000 years is beyond the life of one tree, but supposedly, the tree today shares the same seed lineage as the original. And how cool is this? The tree miraculously survived the carpet bombing! Survivors gathered under it afterwards. It just kind of makes you want to cheer for them. Go Basques, Go!

Holy Toledo!

We left Almachar with sadness. It was a beautiful place and the weather was wonderful. Our first stop was Toledo, about half an hour south of Madrid. We stayed overnight on our way to the north coast of Spain.

The term “Holy Toledo” is an American expression and probably came from Jews emigrating from Spain. Toledo is/was considered the most holy of cities. It has a rich religious history. This is where for several centuries Muslim, Jew and Christian lived together in harmony. During the dark ages, when most of Europe was wallowing in post-Roman chaos, Spain was enjoying a period of enlightenment. The Moors/Muslims had taken over most of the Iberian Peninsula and had brought with them a lot of science and math knowledge previously unknown. Part of the Islamic scripture says that all prophets are of one God so whether it is Jesus, Mohammed or another, they are all recognized. This led to religious tolerance.

Now, some writings talk about the Moors controlling the peninsula for 700 years but in actual fact, they were present for that long but began losing ground almost immediately. They only controlled the whole peninsula for about 200 years and then the Christians began driving them back. The final Moorish stand was in Granada, the south of Spain. I tell you this because I am not sure whether Toledo was under Christian or Muslim rule during the period of religious tolerance. I think the tolerance may have started under one and continued under the other.

There were many learned scholars living in Toledo and the topic of discussion was generally how religion and science worked together. People were learning so much so quickly and it was rocking their religious foundations. However, rather than rejecting one or the other, they worked to align the two. It must have been an interesting time and place to live. There is something quite wonderful about religious harmony and it makes me wonder how the world would have been a different place if these guys had been able to sway common thinking.

Now, unless one begin to think that everything was happy and calm under Muslim rule, let me enlighten you by saying it ain’t so. They fought amongst themselves just like the Christian rulers did. I think it was the time. Their inability to work together probably led to their being ousted from Spain. Again, it just goes to show the power of common vision.

The town of Toledo is very medieval feeling, perched on a rock surrounded by water on three sides. It is quite spectacular. Hearing about their enlightened ways also gives one a sense of being in the presence of something quite special. And then we took the train ride and saw the “Jewish Gate” built of Muslim headstones by the Christians. So much for religious tolerance. And of course there’s the story of the Muslim princess and Christian soldier who fell in love. She was beheaded in front of him. The city lost some of its headiness for me after that. If I could add one more piece of irony, Toledo is known for making fabulous knives and swords.

Say, speaking of religious tolerance reminds me of when we were in Arcos de la Frontera. That was where we saw the Bull Run. Of course the Bull Run was the highlight but we also took a boo around town. There were two churches in town: Saint Mary’s and Saint Peter’s. Both were interesting but Saint Peter’s had the better stories. You see, the Pope would only consecrate one of the churches and he chose Saint Mary’s. The parishioners at Saint Peter’s were outraged and refused to say the word’s Saint Mary in the prayers any longer. They’d pray to Saint Peter, mother of God. I like them. They also had a caretaker for many years who was famous for bringing a donkey into his rooms in the church. You can see his balcony over the door in the picture to the right. The donkey got too big to get back out again and finally he had to kill and eat it. I’m not sure why he had to eat it. He may have been a thrifty sort. At any rate, it’s clear the group over at Saint Peter’s is the more interesting congregation.

Easter Sunday

Well, Mom, Shirley, and all my other competitive athletic friends, we have found a new event for you. We think you are already in good enough shape to start the rounds and we know how you enjoy putting another notch in the marathon stick, so we’re here to suggest next year you come to Spain in the spring. Every year on Easter Sunday they hold the traditional “Running of the Bulls”. If THAT isn’t enough to get your athletic adrenalin pumping, I don’t know what is. I know you competitive types like to challenge yourselves to new victories. It really isn’t about the winning as much as the achieving; that sense of “I did it”. What an accomplishment THIS would be.

We had to get up at 6 am to drive the three hours out to Arcos de la Frontera to watch this. When we arrived, the streets were already closed so we once again parked outside and walked in. We could tell right away where the run would happen. They have huge metal bars that block the streets. They look kind of like the ones around farm pens to keep the horses or bulls in/out. The street we chose to wait on had a lovely top part that was enclosed looking down on the lower street where the run would take place. Many families were already there and the YOUTH that was out was amazing. We haven’t seen that many young people since we left Canada. If you were between 17 and 25, THIS was the place to be.

There were no front row spots any longer. We were only two hours early. We opted to stand near a family in the hopes they would let us peek through their shoulders. After an hour in the hot sun, they became very friendly and squished together to allow us a front row spot! What luck! They didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak Spanish but we all got along very well. The hours leading up to the event were filled with raucous laughter and excellent people watching. Strapping young males swaggered along the lower road, hoping people would notice. They did. Nimble young females cavorted along giggling and whispering together. People leaned out of windows, lined the rooftops, crowded behind the bars and spilled into the lower road every now and then. Spaced strategically along the enclosed area were tubs filled with ice and beer. Bars nearby had pushed into the street using large counters to extend their frontage. People walked around drinking beer from tins or plastic cups. It was happy hour at 10am.

A band came marching through and everyone cheered a clapped. Firecrackers went off in varying degrees of boom, causing the crowds to grow more frenzied and loud. Finally, sirens blared from down the street and two police vehicles followed by a large truck with a huge blue box labeled “Toro” on it. People cheered and waved as the beloved bull went by in his sealed blue box. What that poor animal must have been thinking…

It turned out we were at the front of the run so we watched the box lifted off the back of the truck. The police vehicles left and we all waited the last ten minutes in growing suspense. The men lining the street had now backed up along the walls and their bravado was put to the test. Some practiced leaping up the side, others passed around cigarettes, while still others bit their nails. Their bodies told a story as the minutes ticked by and we waited for the bull.

Then the bull was released. He flew out of the pen at the men and they scattered. He stayed at the top of the street for a few minutes, charging men and hitting up against the sidelines. A few men sprinted down past us. Then the bull came running our way. He stopped a few feet before us and turned, looking around him for irritants. The irritants had all wisely stopped moving. They were behind him or in front, far in front. He charged past us and on into the narrower section of the run. The street becomes narrower as the bull runs until it is a slot-car race up the final strip. We weren’t near there so didn’t see the action. I was just as happy not to watch men trip over themselves and get trampled. It was fast. We barely had time to feel our hearts pound and it was over.

We strolled up to the old town and an ambulance passed us with its siren blaring. Every year somebody gets hurt. A few years back an American soldier was killed. We walked by the first aid station and saw a man with huge abrasions down his face sitting still while the medic looked at his scalp. Think of the story he’ll have to tell! If you go in the run, you get a nice red scarf. You can also buy a t-shirt. Several men were in groups wearing matching shirts.

Mom, Shirley, are you in?

Easter in Spain

Well, it has been an interesting week in Spain. Easter here is very different. They don’t celebrate with rabbits and chocolate, if you can imagine; no painted eggs, no baskets of jelly beans, no children hunting through the grass looking for colourful surprises. However, the week was not without drama and excitement.

In Spain, they celebrate Holy Week. It is ten days long, beginning on the Friday before Good Friday and finishing on Easter Sunday. There is no Easter Monday but then most people have had the prior ten days off. All week long, the brotherhoods of the parish churches gather together to parade Holy relics through the streets. The grand finale is Good Friday when every town acknowledges the crucifixion of Christ by walking through the streets together.

All week it has been raining. I read that most of the brotherhoods will cancel carrying the huge icons through the streets if it rains because the relics are very old and precious. We had plans to go to several different events but decided not to when we saw the rain. Most places are about a half hour drive and the roads are what you might call “challenging”. We don’t really have roads like this in Canada so it is hard to explain though if you have been keeping up with the blog, you’ll understand. A friend of Julia’s told us that many tourists arrive here looking very white and needing to hang on to something for a while after they get out of their cars. One does get used to it but no sense pushing our luck.

On Good Friday, we went to Velez-Malaga, a town about the size of Langley. The rain seemed to be holding off and we didn’t want to miss out on ALL the fun. When we arrived, we had to park on the outskirts of town and walk back in. Even though there were thousands of vehicles everywhere, there were very few people. It was odd because you couldn’t really even hear people yet you knew they had to be somewhere. We didn’t have far to go before we found them all.

It was a festive atmosphere on the inner streets of the city, with kiosks selling plastic junk and greasy food, people milling everywhere and huge processions of people in tall pointy hats and long gowns. We stopped to watch several people dressed in tall red pointy hats and white gowns holding large silver candlesticks walk by. A band played and about fifty men stood shoulder to shoulder carrying a huge Jesus on a Cross display. A row of children dressed in Church robes and walking in front swung incense about them, creating a hazy sweet smell. The procession moved slowly. Periodically, a bell would ring; the men carrying Christ would stop moving, the bell would ring again and they would set down the ornate float. The band would stop playing and everyone would rest for a bit.

During these interludes, little children with balls of wax would come up to the penitents (hooded ones) and ask if they could have some of the candle wax. The penitent would tilt the candle and drip their wax onto the ball. It seemed like the older the child, the larger the ball of wax so maybe they save the balls from year to year.

We had been told the real event was watching them come in and out of the cathedral so we headed up to the cathedral to wait for the procession to reach there. Surprisingly, we ran into another procession! This one was on another street and the penitents were dressed in different coloured robes. Some had tall pointy hats and some had deflated points. We weren’t sure why the difference. The float was Jesus in a glass coffin this time. It kind of reminded me of Snow White but that is a bit irreverent given the occasion. The men carrying the coffin float wore headdresses that looked a bit like Egyptian pharaoh hats and some were blindfolded.

We decided to head back to Almachar to catch the late show there but on our way we stumbled across more processions. Each one had similarities but the penitents always wore different colours. They often carried huge candles or silver rods. Some carried a cross. One procession had ladies with Spanish mantilla headdresses on. All of them had a group of men, no women, carrying a heavy float. We’ve heard these floats can be up to 1000 kg! I don’t think these ones were that heavy.

We couldn’t have timed our arrival in Almachar better. The procession was just heading from the main square down to the church and we quickly parked the car and hurried around through the other streets to get ahead. It was a small procession by comparison. No one wore robes or hats. About ten men carried a small float of the Virgin Mary. The best part was that the men would stop and a singer would come out to sing the wailing cry of Flamenco for a short time. Everyone would clap and then the procession would continue. The arrived at the church just as the bells chimed midnight. The festivities were just beginning. We’re not sure what else they had lined up, though because we headed off to bed.

Art Class

Art class.

Yesterday I went to an art thing that was a lot of fun. Dad came along, but basically he just wanted to know what kind of paint to buy. The drive was a very long confusing drive but in the end it all worked out. So starting the flash back *%* Doodooloo*%*:

We left with everything we needed for art. I had my elastic around my wrist and dad had the phone number we needed to call and the actual phone. Nothing could go wrong, but we obviously found a way to make it go wrong. It was a long boring ride and the GPS was being very difficult to work with. Eventually we got there.

We were supposed to meet at the gas station but we couldn’t find it, although we knew we were in the right town. Then we decided to forget about the gas station and just focus on calling them, because chances are they would know the whole town and be able to find us. It wasn’t a very big town. Dad took out the cell phone and turned it on and it said ‘Punch in pin’. Dad turned and said “What’s the pin, Julia?” I looked at him and said “Dunno”.

Dad got out of the car and looked for a phone, which didn’t take long because there was a phone right beside us. Out of order. I wasn’t very surprised though. He got back in the car and we drove around town, luckily (sort of) a random lady kept pointing right and said ‘Yahblehdoneck spanyoten’. Well, it sounded like that and I’M telling to story…not you. So dad turned right following Yable Lady’s finger and she was pointing to the Gas Station! So we got there, but how could we meet them if we couldn’t call!?

Dad asked people for help while I sat in the car trying, and failing, to sleep. He got back in, in about 15 minutes and said ‘There’s another phone by the Clinic.’ So we went there and it worked! It was embarrassing though when I heard dad “CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?” But I got through it.

The house was gorgeous. Amazing gardens and views…but it was in the middle of no where. The studio was great, that was good because it was cold out and I wore shorts. So we started out painting the poster. Not exactly the poster but the idea of what came to our mind. Both of us had very different ideas. Mine was bright and bold. Dad’s was mellow and warm. We were supposed to put hands in it and that’s why I don’t like mine. Both the paintings are just sort of trying out what we like and different brush strokes. Though, I do really like the bottom of mine.

Then we had lunch. It was very cold. Cold potatoes, and tomatoes. Hehe. I tried a prune. I don’t like prunes. It was a good lunch but very non-filling.

After lunch we went out and looked at the Garden. Then chose something to paint from the garden. I choose a tree. Yesterday I really wanted all my pictures to be bold and weird. Like Dali. I can now see why Dali painted the things he did, because it’s more fun to paint like that! With bright red and Yellow.

After the walk we went in to paint what we wanted. I started out by painting the back ground red. REALLY red. I used the thick brush because…well, because that brush is fun to use. Then I went to the bathroom and when I came out there was no one there! I would’ve waited in the studio, but that would have been boring! I walked to the front door and one of her cats ran in!

She doesn’t let her cats go in. So before I could start looking for them I had to find the cat. I looked in the kitchen. No cat. (ok, lets just fast forward to the studio) so I went to the studio and found the cat. But WOW! This cat is a really good hider. He or She was behind a painting and I NEVER would’ve found her if it weren’t for her tail flicking back and forth.

I found the cat and shoed her out. Then I looked in the outside office and found dad and the art teacher. Dad was printing out the picture on his camera. I guess nothing out side he really liked. Then we all went back in.

I painted four paintings all together. I finished painting the tree one. And started painting what is now my second least favorite. Then I painted the rose arch, from her garden. I loved the rose arch so why not paint it? It’s my favorite one. I put a lot of effort in to the tree and the rose arch. With lighting and three different shades of green. It's still a little lop-sided though.

Dad said he didn’t like painting on canvas. He used very watery paints though. He needed to because of the light colours in his picture. He said it was a sort of waxy canvas so the water colour didn’t grab as well. Mine worked perfectly though, I didn’t use any water in my thick colours though.

Me and dad both have very different styles the teacher said. It’s true. Dad’s really are not very bright and mine aren’t very realistic. At all. Except the tree if you don’t look at the background and only look at the tree … with out the lemons. It’s pretty good.

Sevilla

We made an overnight trip to Sevilla this week. Sevilla is about 3 hours away. It is a HUGE city and driving was a nightmare. We opted for a map at one point which was a mistake as it didn’t show one way streets and strangely angled corners or streets made for goats rather than vehicles. We wound up driving in a nasty maze of inner city streets and eventually reverted to our GPS to help get us out again. Streets aside, the inner city was wonderful and we had a great time.

Sevilla is the place you want to visit if your idea of Spain is Flamenco, bullrings, and lacy headwear for women. This is where we found fans, castanets, Flamenco dresses and so on for sale in stores on the street. I don’t mean the tourist kind, either. There are real stores that sell this stuff to real Spanish people. It still exists. In fact, some women own a different fan for every outfit. It seems ridiculous in Canada but after living in the heat here, a fan has become a more attractive accessory. It’s only spring but already the temperature gets up to around 30 degrees during the day. We can almost sit out on our deck late at night but I still need a sweater. Give it another couple of months, though, and it will be a sweltering 45 degrees in the afternoon sun and most families won’t retire until after midnight because of the evening heat. Glad we’ll miss that.

We took a spin around town, visiting the cathedral, third biggest in the world after the Vatican and Saint Paul’s. They have the plaque to prove it. Other than its size there was nothing really curious about it. It had the usual amazing gold leaf covered chapels, soaring ceilings and organ for giants. We visited the treasury and climbed the tower. The most important treasure I thought was the tomb of Columbus. Apparently, he's well traveled in death as well. He started out buried in Spain, then Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, Cuba and now back to Spain. Where will his next trip be? Those guys carrying him must be getting tired.

The church was built on the site of an old mosque, surprise, surprise. The tower is the last remnant of the mosque so there is no stairway to the top but rather a ramp. This was so the guy who had to give the call to prayer five times a day could ride his horse up. The tower was really the most interesting piece of the cathedral. From the outside we could see where the Moors had used Roman stones to lay the foundation of the tower. The stones were much bigger than the bricks produced by the Moors and some of the stones still had Latin inscriptions on them. Rick said the tower represented the history of the city with a Roman foundation, a long period of Muslim occupation and then a Christian cap. The very top of the tower now houses bells and a huge statue of some Christian type figure whose name I can’t remember. Obviously impressive, though.

We also visited the Alcazar, a palace that is still in use by the royal family. We didn’t see their private apartments because we wouldn’t pony up the extra cash to do it. The lower floors were interesting in an “Alhambra-esque” way. Lots of tile, geometric patterns, open courtyards, Muslim looking arches and so on. The most interesting thing about this is that it was built by Christians in the Moorish style. The tile is geometric in many places but also has lots of images of animals and people. The Muslims don’t believe in recreating images created by God. The best part about the Moorish palaces is the garden areas. They always have such lovely open areas inside. This one also had a great garden in behind as well.

Our walk through the shopping district turned up Easter candy you’ll never find in North America. These are penitents. They wear the hood to hide their faces so others won’t know who is asking forgiveness in the parade. These people don gowns and parade through the streets at Easter to ask forgiveness for sins. It really has nothing to do with the KKK, although the thought of buying a sweet candy penitent didn’t sit well with any of us. There is a full size one on display at the grocery store near the Easter candy and Julia felt it was creepy looking. Hooded figures don’t exude charm or encourage one to linger at the chocolate area. Mind you, I suppose candy, children and horror costumes at Hallowe’en don’t exactly mix well either.

Right outside our hotel was a barber shop and Tom couldn’t resist having his hair cut by the barber of Seville. We had seen him in his show earlier on our trip, of course. He appeared older and slower but Tom got a good haircut, complete with shaving brush and straight-edge razor. I wanted to sing in the background and images of Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny kept racing through my head. However, the barber seemed a serious sort and as he held the razor, I felt restraint was the best order.

Before we left Sevilla, we did the Macarena. The Basilica of Macarena, for which the song is named, is in Sevilla. Its claim to fame is that it houses two of the most spectacular floats in the Easter parade. I’m not sure you call it an Easter parade here. During Holy Week, these huge floats are carried around town by men . Each man can be hoisting up to 100kg and it is a great honour to be selected for the task. In Malaga, Antonio Banderas has been selected this year to be one of the carriers of the float for his brotherhood. The darling of the parade is the Weeping Virgin, who has tears running down her cheeks. I couldn’t get close enough to show you the tears but apparently this inspires many to follow suit. I’m going to take a guess and say the kid with the interesting hat is Jesus. I thought briefly he was also holding a broom but he is NOT.

Our last stop was at Plaza Espana. We saw it on postcards so decided to check it out. This was a very pretty place. The huge government building has a circular water canal in front and you can rent a little boat to putt around in. The railings and lamp posts are all ceramic tile which was just lovely, though the pictures don’t show it off as well as I’d hoped. There was a little tile tribute to each of the provinces of Spain and we found Malaga, the province we are staying in and posed. The city itself was not appealing but the old town and sights were wonderful.