Paris, France

We began the day with a Paris city tour. Paris was founded by a Celtic tribe, and nowadays has a population of two million within the city limits, 11 million when counting the outskirts. Paris alone is 1/5 of France’s entire population.

Paris has 20 districts. The streets are generally wide avenues lined with trees. There are no big parks in the city, but there are two large parks just outside the city. Like Spain, menu prices are less expensive when seated at the bar than at tables.

At stops for loading/unloading passengers, tour buses kill the engine (and therefore the A/C). This isn’t to torture tourists–this is because there are strict anti-pollution laws, and if they don’t turn off the bus, they will get a ticket.

First I saw a Russian cathedral, then Montmartre which is called the Mount of Martyrs because of the legend of a Paris bishop who was beheaded here by Romans.

Next, I got to see Sacre Coeur, and although I didn’t go inside (I plan to do so later) it is beautiful on the outside.

Nearby, there is a square packed with vendors of all types (and, I’m warned, pickpockets) and their in-you-face hustle reminded me of Morocco. (Luckily, this was the only place in Paris that struck me this way.)

Paris is seperated by the river Seine and the people on each side are distinct, with their own different customs. We went down Rue de la Paix, an expensive strip, and Rue Saint Honore, and saw a statue of Napoleon. We also saw the Latin Quarter, and the Roman baths, which have pools of different temperatures (really hot, warm, and ice cold. M. Saint Michel, if you’re interested.)

I learned that the Louvre was a fortress in the 12th century, and that Notre Dame is the center of the city. This is also where Napoleon crowned himself emporer in 1804. I also learned that Notre Dame used to be colorful, with bright blues and reds. It would have been neat to see it in its original condition.

Place de la Concorde is the square where in 1793, Marie Antoinette was beheaded. At the time, it was known as Revolution Square.

We went by a 3000 year old Egyptian tower, then Invalides, then went to the Arc de Triomphe (me, for the second time). This is the biggest arc in the world. This area is also known as Star Square, because the streets intersect like an asterisk, with the Arc de Triomphe on a roundabout in the center. One of the friezes is of Napoleon dressed in Roman gear. In the middle of the arc lies the tomb of the unknown soldier from WWI, with its eternal flame.

Next we got to see the Eiffel tower. It was built out of iron in 1889 and at the time was the biggest monument in the world. People who lived nearby began moving away because they were afraid it would topple over.

The girls and I sat on a bench with a view of the tower and noshed on some crepes. It was the first surreal moment I’ve had since I left the U.S. Just standing in the sunlight, warm chocolate crepe in my hand, Eiffel tower towering in front of me. Sunlight for a moment, anyway–then the sky opened up and the rain came. Apparently, it’s not unusual for Paris to rain every afternoon.

That night, we dressed up and went back on the town for a night tour, to be followed by an evening performance of the Moulin Rouge cabaret.

We saw the statue of Napoleon as Caesar, and the square with the Ritz, next to the Ministry of Justice. We went by Cartier (a place to window shop for jewels) and the Paris Opera House, built in 1860. We went by the Louvre, whose modern art glass pyramid structure is comprised of 85 tons of steel. An interesting fact: the surface area of the Louvre is greater than that of the Vatican.

We went by Le Port Neuf (The New Bridge) which, in fact, is actually the old bridge–the oldest one in Paris. It used to be said that the bridge was so crowded, that on any given crossing, you were bound to run into a monk, a white horse, and a loose woman.

We went by the contemporary arts building, city hall, the Institut de France, the Latin Quarter, and of course Notre Dame. (No, not the one in South Bend, IN. The one from the 12th century, with the rose windows and bell tower.)

Next we hit the Place de la Concorde, which is one of the largest squares in the world. Its fountains were inspired by those in St. Peter’s square in Rome.

Then we rolled down Champs Elysees, which was the product of Louis XIV’s designer, who also created the gardens at Versailles. Here you’ll find the Grande Palais and the Petite Palais, as well as the oldest Metro station. The Paris Metro was begun on October 4, 1898 (two days after my birthday… if I were 107 years old. Which I’m not.) The Paris Metro runs three times the circumference of the Earth, every single day.

Champs Elysees is also the street with Fouquets, the oldest restaurant in Paris, where movie stars are often seen (and the menu prices prove it). We passed the Arc de Triomphe again, and I was amused to find out it exists out of luck–Napoleon had originally wanted to build a giant elephant instead. (And if Parisians could talk Napoleon Bonaparte out of an elephant, why oh why could no one talk George Lucas out of Jar Jar Binks???) The Arc de Triomphe was inaugerated on July 29, 1836–30 years after construction began. Napoleon was buried nearby in Les Invalides, also near the Church of Glory. (Magdalene/Madeleine)

The Eiffel Tower was created much like a giant puzzle, and the last piece clicked into place on February 24, 1889, and not to rave reviews. Besides the fact that everyone was sure it would collapse on their houses at the slightest provocation, it was also higher than Notre Dame, which made it unclerical as well.

Moulin Rouge. How can I describe it? The best I can do is this: The Moulin Rouge is Broadway meets Cirque du Soleil. But topless.

An overabundance of champagne was served at every table, the costumes were amazing, acts included strong-man type acrobatics and awoman diving into a tank with a boa constrictor, and dancing–of course!–included the famous French can-can.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history, shopping, theatre & shows, travel tips

Lisbon, Portugal

Lisbon, Portugal! First of all, Portugal is one hour earlier than Spain because for some reason, it is on UK time. Also, Portuguese is more unlike Spanish than I had suspected. For example, “thank you” is “obrigada”, which in no way resembles “gracias.” (And if you’re a man, “obrigado”.) I also saw a sign with “chocolate” spelled with an X instead of the “ch”. (?!?!?!)

The first thing I noted when I landed at the train station was that I had to pay to use the bathroom. (I would soon learn that outside of Spain, this is actually the norm. Carry change.)

The area around the train station is a little sketchy, and at first I thought I had made a Bad Mistake. Everything seemed dirty and trashy, with lots of graffiti and bums, some of which were sleeping in actual broken cardboard boxes.

However, as I kept walking, the neighborhoods kept improving. The walk was very pretty, with the river/port to my left and the city to my right. I passed a US Coast Guard pirate ship thing – no idea what that was about.

The woman on the train had told me to never start out speaking Spanish to the Portuguese. She said that they have some sort of inferiority complex with the Spaniards and if they meet someone from Spain, they will assume that person is going to snub them or insult them, so the Portuguese are likely to put on their attitude first, kind of as a defense mechanism.

So, she said to first ask if they speak English, and when they say no, *then* ask about Spanish. So, that’s what I did, and everywhere I went I spoke Spanish – but as the “second choice”.

So I’m in the center of town, which is a square with the river to one side and a statue in the center. It’s called the Praça do Comércio, “praça” being Portuguese for “plaza”. (Very frequently “r” was where I expected “l” and “ç” where I expected “z”. “Ç” is not even a letter in Spanish.)

I go to get on the trolley and the lady says “two”, which I took to mean two Euros so I forked over a 5, and she just gave me some loose change in return. Apparently, she was asking if I were paying for two *people*, and by smiling and nodding, I inadvertently bought the way of the guy behind me. So, if you don’t speak the language, don’t smile. Or nod. Very expensive habit.

The trolley was a crazy trolley (much like the crazy taxi, if you’re familiar with arcade games) and if I hadn’t held on with both hands, I wouldn’t still be here now. (Why don’t we have opposable toes?)

The first thing I did (once I got off the trolley and kissed the ground beneath my feet) was to visit the Monasterio de Geronimo. It happened to be free on Sunday, which was cool, and it was the 500th anniversary, which was even cooler. Apparently, people were allowed to touch all over everything and use flash photography, neither of which I felt was cool, so I abstained from both, keeping my hands and flashbulbs to myself.

I loved how gothic it was – it was the most gothicky monastery I’d ever been in, and it is awesome. (Not that I’d been in any monasteries prior to this trip – the most goth you’ll find in the US is Marilyn Manson.)

Next, I ate at the Pastéis de Belém. Mmm. I don’t know why I’m not still there, getting fatter and fatter. Run, don’t walk, to the nearest airport, fly to Lisbon, go to the original 1800’s blue-tiled Pastéis de Belém restaurant, order yourself a cappuccino and as many pastéis as the table can hold. This is now officially my favorite food in, I think, the world, and I am discovering it across the freaking globe. (Can I open a Tampa franchise??) I started with two and when the people next to me at their first and asked for a carryout box, I just ordered some more. (As my pal Ashley would say, “Get it in me!”)

The café Pastéis de Belém looks small, but don’t be fooled. It is secretly massive, and has lots of rooms that you go through one to get to another, so you’re never really sure how many there are.

Random people keep thinking I’m speaking Portuguese when I’m forced to mumble some Portspañol. I’m doing a lot of vague smiling, then wandering away when it seems opportune.

I went into the Coach Museum (or carriages, depending on how you look at it), which was celebrating its 100th year. It was wild to see all the golden, ornate coaches and imagine being carted about town secreted inside one. On my way out of the museum, I passed a vending machine – a KitKat machine! Be still my heart! Nothing but varieties of Kit Kat bars! Who knew there *were* varieties of Kit Kat bars?!

I ducked into a gift shop to scope out the shot glass selection for my collection, and on the counter I see this very sketchy iced-tea jug with something other than iced tea inside. It has a hand-made sign taped to it: “Ginja. Com chocolate: 1€”. Thanks to the book I borrowed from Danielle, I knew that ginja was (quoting here) “Portuguese firewater”. I had no idea about the chocolate, but hey, you only live once, right? So I slid my euro across the counter and the lady pours me a shot of ginja into a chocolate cup. And when I say chocolate cup, I mean a teacup – with handle and all – made completely of chocolate! It was an alcochocoholic’s *dream*. (And yes, before I went back to Madrid, I had another one. How could I not?)

The next place I went to was the Porto de Lisboa, which had a fabulous view of the boats and the bridge. Next, I went to the Monumento des Descobertas, or Discoveries monument, where my English/Spanish ploy completely fell apart. No English, no Spanish, no French – she spoke German. I managed to stumble through a “Would you please take my photo here?” in my broken German, which punctured my self-confidence a bit and I stopped talking for a while. (German?? I should have studied more!)

An interesting quick about Lisbon is that the roadside vendors have all the indulgences – everything from ice cream to hard liquor. (I didn’t have either one, because as you’ll recall I was quite stuffed with pasteis and ginja at this point.) I saw a lot of free public roadside parking, although I also saw a guy running a hustle where he flagged cars into (free) open spots for tips/money.

Next, I went to the tower of Belém, which was very cool. It had a dungeon with bars, and barred “windows” in the ground floor above which I imagine you could drop in prisoners or food or snakes or whatever to the dungeon below. I climbed the skinny, winding staircase to the top of the tower and was rewarded with an awesome panorama of Lisbon.

I saw the giant cross on the hill known as the Cristo Rei (I assume “Christ the King”) and I learned that Portugal is roughly the size of Indiana.

I walked through the Museu de Marinha (Maritime Museum) which had every manner of model ship and maritime relic, and was therefore probably a much more complete museum than really necessary for my taste. (That’ll teach me to go into Maritime museums. Everything’s all maritime-y.)

Next I hoofed it 4 miles to El Corte Ingles, forgetting it would be closed because it was Sunday. I’m glad I walked it, though, because I passed all sorts of cool views, and a street filled with vendors and sidewalk artists. The Corte had an open movie theater, so I flashed my student ID and got to see War of the Worlds on the cheap. Before the movie (which was in English) there was a preview for the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which was in Portuguese, so I didn’t understand a single word. I’ll be glad to see that one back home.

After the movie, I caught a taxi back to the Santa Apolonia railway station. Europe is big on roundabouts – most are two to four lanes wide. If you’re not a roundabout fan, don’t rent a car – take the metro or a taxi.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history, travel tips, wine

El Escorial, Spain

This morning after breakfast I boarded the bus for El Escorial. I saw the oldest theater in Spain and the Monasterio de San Lorenzo. Here’s the quick and dirty regarding the monastery. Felipe II married his cousin, his aunt, his son’s girlfriend, and then his niece. (Sequentially, not all at once.) When the last of these died, he decided to build a monastery – a “palace for god and a cottage for me.” It took 21 years to build, which is lightning fast. How did he accomplish such a feat? It’s all about the money. Pay increased or decreased depending on how quickly or how slow construction progressed, and nobody got any money at all until the whole thing was completed. (Talk about your incentive program!)

The monastery has statues of the kings of the Old Testament. It also has a statue of Christ on the cross, which they had to “dress” with a piece of cloth, because he was sculpted naked and apparently women flocked to stare, rather than attend service.

Felipe II had a traveling chair because of his gout. A traveling chair is a contraption where he gets carried by inserting two poles through a set of holes and then hefted up on (someone else’s) shoulders. He could also put up the top and sides if it were cold or sunny.

His son died at age 31 with a record 16 girlfriends. He was the first playboy of Spain, and on whom the infamous Don Juan is probably based. (In case you didn’t know, it was social suicide for a woman to be with don Juan or any man, because the second you were no longer a virgin, you were “ruined” and would never marry.)

The mausoleum is called the Royal Pantheon and has kings on one side and queens on the other, except for one queen on the man side because she was very kingly, and one king on the female side because he was very… queenly.

There are large paintings of bible stories on the walls because most text was written in Latin and the average person could not read.

Next, we visited the Valley of the Fallen, which was very impressive. It is a huge monument carved out of rock by Franco’s prisoners to commemorate all those who died in the fierce, bloody – and recent – civil war.

Tonight I went to the train station and hopped aboard the night train with service to Portugal! Tomorrow is a free day from school, and I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to visit Lisbon.

The night train had four bunks, two on each side. I roomed with a grandmother, mother, and daughter from Portugal, all of whom were very nice and full of useful tips.

Tags: cathedrals, random facts & history, theatre & shows, trains

Córdoba, Spain & Puerto Lápice, Spain

This morning, we piled back into the bus and headed to Córdoba. The Mezquita de Córdoba (mosque) is wicked cool, and if you ever get a chance, you should definitely see it. (This, the Alhambra, and the Alcazaba in Málaga are my favorite old buildings thus far.) There’s a huge tower like the giralda in Seville, and a man would climb all the way up five times a day. On a horse. He sounded the trumpet, which was the cue to the people that it was time for minarcle (prayers).

All the doors to the Mezquita are open, but out of respect, people enter only through the main door. Inside is beautiful. The Jardin del Espiritu patio is there, too. The important thing in their religion is that beauty should always be on the inside. The outside can be walls.

Naturally, this beautiful mosque was converted into… you guessed it, a Catholic church. But in a way, I’m glad, since otherwise they would have destroyed it, and that would have been a terrible loss. Going into all these amazing places makes me think about all the places the Catholics did destroy – that’s a lot of history and beauty that we no longer have, but at least we still have some places like this where we can visit, learn about the past, and wonder at the beauty.

Next we went to Puerto Lápice, which has lots of Quixote paraphernalia, but no windmills. So we trekked up to the tops of the tallest hills to see the “giants” made immortal in Cervantes’ famous novel.

That night, both excursions made it back to the dorm, and the girls (and Bryan) all congregated in my room so we could exchange Barcelona/Andalucía stories. Oh, and we sampled some Absinthe from Barcelona. Apparently, the word on the street is that Vincent van Gogh, a little whack already and having downed a tad too much absinthe, cut off his ear in a fit of passion and sent it to his cousin to prove how much he loved her. I was of the opinion that this particular move might have been just a bit too much, but one of my classmates said that any man who would go to such lengths for her really deserved her.

Tags: castles & palaces, cathedrals, hiking

Seville, Spain

This morning, we piled in the bus and trekked to Sevilla. Seville has a population of 700,000, with another million if you count the suburbs. The only larger cities are Madrid and Barcelona. Out of Seville’s 700,000 city inhabitants: 50,000 are college students.

Two Roman emporers were born here in Seville. Amerigo Vespucci also lived here, as did Magellan.

The walls around the city were built by the Arabs, and the gate is called the Macarena. (And you thought it was just a song!) One week every spring, Seville has a flemenco festival.

Cartuja is the new section, with an island and bridges. There’s an amusement park open from 11 am until midnight. It has a section that’s a copy of the Seville harbor during the 16th century.

Valenque is a tent-covered square that actually has air conditioning. Concerts and the like are held here.

A mudéjar style Cathusian monestary here was converted into a ceramic factory by an Englishman. It has since been reconverted back into a church. St James is the patron saint of Spain and his festival is next week.

Seville has the famous bridge you may have read about in the Guinness book of world records. It’s long, flat, and with zero suspension. Oh yeah, and it’s not just foot traffic, either – our bus rolled right across it, and I amazingly lived to tell the tale.

The new bridge in Seville has a funny history. The bridge came first, and the water came second! Once the construction finished, they released the dams and put the river underneath the bridge.

I also saw the cacharro – a statue of Jesus on the cross. The sculptor witnessed a gypsy getting caught and killed on the street and captured the gypsy’s expression for the one on the face of christ.

The Plaza de Toros in Seville is one of the oldest in Spain. (But not *the* oldest – do you remember where that one was?) It is the bullring featured in the opera Carmen.

Seville also has two towers – the tower of silver and the tower of gold. Also, you may have seen the square on film – Lawrence of Arabia was filmed here, as were parts of Star Wars Episode II.

Seville has a monument dedicated to El Cid Campeador in front of the university, magnolia trees with big whilte flowers, and five remaining arches of a Roman aqueduct.

Kansas City, Missouri is the the sister city to Seville, and the name of the avenue to enter Seville for the airport. (That bit of info is for you Missourians, you know who you are.)

The Holy Cross square used to be a synangogue that (of course) was converted into a Catholic church. But then it caught fire and was destroyed and now a monument stands in its place.

Seville also boasts the largest gothic cathedral in the world. It has the mummified “el lagarto” (which is like a crocodile, but more about the size of a large iguana.) Interestingly, “el lagarto” sounds suspiciously like “alligator”. (Things that make you go hmmm…)

The tomb of Cristobal Colón (Christopher Columbus to us) is also in this cathedral. Next year marks the 500th year of his death. He died in Spain and his remains were in the church that became the old ceramic factory that later re-became a church. (You followed that, right?) When his son died in Seville, his widow took the remains of both father and son to the island of Santo Domingo. 200 years ago, Spain lost this island and moved the remains to Cuba for safe keeping. This turned out to be a bad plan, and in 1898, the remains (in terrible condition by this time) were brought back to Spain. Seville recently decided to DNA test everything that was left, so actually, Columbus is in a laboratory somewhere in Houston right now.

In this cathedral, there were lots of glass cases featuring the bones and other visible remains of various saints. As mentioned recently, this is the first time I ever knew people kept this sort of thing in churches for general viewing, and I am getting used to the idea, since in old European Catholic churches, it seems to be the norm. I also learned that the Catholics like to pray to the saints when they can see part of them. I’m guessing this is to feel a connection with the person. (If you’re Catholic and you have some insight on this, please confirm or deny).

This Church has a huge baptism chapel, which is still in use. Just two days ago, some kids were baptised. The walls are adorned with paintings by Murillo. On one, someone cut out the saint and stole it. This was back in the 19th century. years later, someone came across it in the black market. (What they were doing perusing the black market and how they recognized a piece of this random painting, hard to say.) So, it found its way back to Spain. I can clearly see the marks where a big rectangle was cut apart and put back together.

I also climbed 35 floors to the top of the Giralda tower, which has a magnificent view. Afterwards, I ate some ice cream at Rayas, which was delish. Europe not only has a sweet tooth, but very specifically has tons of ice cream.

Tonight we went to a (choreographed) flamenco show, and although it was well-executed and entertaining, I enjoyed the gypsy flamenco much better. Also, the theater we were at tonight had us sitting thigh-to-thigh with the person next to us. People were smoking and ordering drinks, even during the performance. (The girl to my right got a vodka and fanta. Ew.)

I won’t name any names since this is the Internet and all, but there was one girl on the trip who cracked me up continuously because she was always saying the zaniest things. First of all, she said she disliked Spanish cuisine because there weren’t any twizzlers, and she likes to eat a pound a week. (???) She was going to pack five pounds of twizzlers in her carry-on, but she knew she’d eat them all the first week she was here. (!!!) Also, when I asked her if she knew what we were doing tomorrow, she said “Yep – we’re going to see Dante’s windmills.” I blinked, and when I realized what she meant, I cracked up laughing until I got the hiccups (which didn’t faze her in the least, so she must get that a lot.) “Actually,” I mention casually when I finally catch my breath. “I believe Dante is known more for his Inferno. Maybe we’re going to see Don Quixote’s windmills.” (To which she said, “Whatever. All I really want to do is go to the movies, because I’m a big fan of the Fabulous Four.”)

Tags: cathedrals, festivals & fiestas, music & concerts, random facts & history, theme parks

Toledo, Spain

This morning I get up, grab breakfast, and board the bus for Toledo. Legend has it that Toledo was founded by the lost tribe of Israel, years before Christ. More likely, the first inhabitants were the Pheonecians from what is now Lebanon. The first written mention of Toledo dates back to Roman times, when Romans mostly used Toledo for building military fortresses. The main entrance to the city was always closed, except when the King and Queen came. (Everyone else had to use a side/back entrance.)

Toledo is an ochre-golden color because of the mudéjar Arab construction using stone and brick. The San Serando castle was built by the Christians when Toledo was reconquered.

The capital of Spain used to be Toledo, not Madrid. It was changed during the reign of Felipe II because Madrid is closer to El Escorial than Toledo. Toledo is still the religious capital of the kingdom. Most monasteries and convents are located here, as is a massive seminary.

The Alcazara bridge goes over the Tajo (TAH ho) river. The Tajo river is the longest river in Spain. The bridge of San Martin was built in the 14th century. As you might imagine, there is a legend concerning this bridge…

Once upon a time, a man was given a grand commission – to build a bridge to cross the mighty river. He drew up his plans and set up temporary wooden supports before carefully placing stone after stone of the bridge. Just before the bridge was to launch, he happened to double-check his figures and realized that due to a mathematical error, the second the temporary supports were removed, the bridge would collapse – and he would be ruined. He shuttered himself inside his house in a panic. His wife, however, took matters into her own hands. That dark and stormy night, she slipped out of the house and set fire to the bridge itself as if it were struck by lightning. In this way, her “poor” husband would “have” to rebuild, poor thing – and therefore be able to save face.

The Alcaza was destroyed in the civil war. Because it was being used as Franco’s military academy, it was bombed twice. It was reconstructed in the 60s by (guess who) Franco, but this time as an homage to those who were lost in the civil war. It is now a military museum.

Toledo is labyrinthine, like an old Medina. It is a maze of high, narrow streets. This is to prevent the sun from shining in houses and making them overheat. All the houses have an open inner courtyard, and the living room is the patio itself. The labyrinth setup is also by design. This is so you, a native, can escape your pursuers, who will quickly become lost in the maze. (As a matter of fact, we had to stay very close to the guide, because every couple feet was a corner, and each corner was an intersection of 3-6 skinny alleys, and without a guide – we’d have been lost in the first 5 minutes.) The streets intersect like spider webs, with no right angles and lots of interconnecting passageways.

El Greco lived in Toledo for 45 years. His son built the gothic tower here. The cathedral was built in the time of Fernando III. The church where El Greco’s famous painting is displayed is the Iglesia de Santa Tomé (toe MAY). The Burial of Count Orgaz depicts a scene that allegedly took place here in the St Thomas church in the 14th century. Legend has it that the day Count Orgaz was to be buried, two (dead) saints – St Augstin and St Stefan – came to bury him, and two angels also came down from heaven to witness the event. 200 years later, El Greco is commissioned to paint the scene. The painting itself is about 5 meters high. There are no women portrayed in the painting because at the time, women didn’t attend burials. They stayed home to comfort the widow and daughters. The faces of the spectators in the painting were of people contemporaneous to El Greco, and individually commissioned. He wrote their names on the reverse of their heads, so we actually know who’s who. He also painted himself in the painting – he is the one behind the upraised hand, and is the only person looking directly at us. The boy in the foreground is El Greco’s son, and his finger is pointing at the signature line.

This painting was created here in this church, but in a different room. As a matter of fact, they weren’t really sure which tomb in the church was actually the count’s. Don Gonzalo Ruiz was count Orgaz at the time, and two years ago Spain conducted DNA testing on the remains of bodies in the church to discover which was his, so as to place the right bones in front of the right painting.

The synagogue “El Transito” was made by the Arabs for the Jews, in mudéjar style. The king don Pedro authorized the construction. At the time, the three main religions (catholic, Jewish, Muslim) were very close because they were the only monotheistic religions. The ceiling of the synagogue is made of wood with inlaid ivory. In the Jewish religion, no people or animals should be represented in artwork. When the Jews were later expelled from Spain, all their synagogues were destroyed except those that were turned into Catholic churches. In the 1400s, the Catholics renamed the synagogue to El Transito, meaning the transfer between life and heaven. This is because of the belief that Mary didn’t die, but fell asleep and was taken to heaven while she slept.

In Spain, most of the professionals – such as bankers – were Jewish. In order to make a living from this sort of trade, they took 10% and invented the concept of commission.

The synagogue “La Blanca” is the oldest in Spain. This is from the 12th century and is in Mudejar style. It retains its original ceiling, made of cedar root because the smell repels insects. After the synagogue was catholicked, it was rededicated to The White Virgin. The windows are even made of thinly sliced alabaster (which is actually a stone.)

The monastery of Franciscans in Toledo is still in use today (though no one is buried there). It was built in a late gothic style known as “gótico isabelino” after Queen Isabella, who decreed that Spain would not follow any other country’s architectural style any longer, but instead would invent their own.

Toledo is also famous for its metal work, especially the intricate designs of inlaid gold. The jewelry was beautiful, and we got to see a master craftsman working with a long strand of pure gold thread. Metal is more than jewelry – it is also knives, for example. One boy on our bus bought three swords and a dagger. (Good luck slipping those through customs and airport security.)

Here is also where I stopped for lunch and my lasagna came with fries. What is with all the fries???

After I returned from Toledo, I went to Las Ventas – the Plaza de Toros in Madrid – for a bullfight. I wasn’t going to go, but I spoke to my dad, who talked me into it. His argument was something along the lines of, “You’re in Spain and it’s a huge part of Spanish culture. How will you know anything about it if you don’t go?” which, of course, is true. I am glad I went, although I did not personally enjoy the fight. Maybe it’s the animal-rights activist within me or maybe it’s because I’m vegetarian, but I found the whole thing to be unfair, sadistic, and grisly.

Because the bulls are killed after the fights, each bull is necessarily in his first fight. So they come out of the gate looking reasonably complacent, completely unaware of what is in store. Then, they get long spikes thrown in their backs. Rather than getting immediately ticked off – as you might imagine from TV shows – in general, the bulls just looked confused. I think that’s what got me the most – how the majority of the bulls had a “what the hell?!” or “why me??” sort of expression, and wandered around as if trying to sort out what in the world was going on.

If this doesn’t sound like much of a fight so far, you’re right. So that’s when the picador comes rushing out, brandishing a huge spear, which he immediately pokes into the bull until he draws blood and – finally – riles him up. The picador’s horse is heavily padded and *blindfolded*, both of which are a good thing, since typically this tries the last bit of the bull’s patience and he generally tries to ram the picador at this point. (The picador just runs off stage.)

This is when the torero comes out, in an elaborate costume and brandishing the famous cape (which has a sword tucked inside.) He does a few tricks – like getting the bull to charge the cape in a circle, or sidestepping the charge – then gets down to business.

In a perfect world, the torero is supposed to strike the bull through the heart, causing an instant (and relatively humane) death.

In reality, this is not what goes down. (So I’m doubly thankful I didn’t see the amateur bullfights if these are the professionals!)

First of all, half the time the first sword thrown is an air ball – or at best, a glancing blow – so the torero has to fetch his sword and try again. (At this point, the bull is now as wary as he is angry.) Out of the six bulls (one fight right after the other), I think probably 4 ended up getting stabbed in the lungs, not the heart, which is not only incredibly painful, but also causes the lungs to fill with blood. The bull staggers, slowly suffocating, gagging and drowning in his own blood – which is now flowing from his open mouth – before collapsing to the ground.

No, it’s not over. Now is when a small man with a hand held dagger runs on field, thrusts the dagger into the bull’s skull through his forehead, and twists it around in his brain until the bull is definitely dead. Then, several more men appear and attach the bull to a team of horses, who drag his corpse around the stadium before taking it out back – to the slaughterhouse.

Six times I sat through this.

Me, I’ll probably never go to another bullfight in my life. But now I know. There were those at the school who found it exciting, those who found it entertaining, and those (like me) who found it saddening and repulsive. It *is* a huge part of Spanish culture, and now I really understand how intense the divide must be between the 50% who hate it and think it should be abolished, and the other 50% who think that tradition and culture should be kept and respected.

Tags: animals, castles & palaces, cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history

Segovia, Spain

This morning I woke up bright and early and boarded the bus for Segovia. Don Pelayo, the first king of Spain/Asturias, battled and won against the Arabs and lived in Segovia Castle. This castle is the one Disney modeled Beauty & The Beast after. I asked one of the girls in my class if she would take my photo in front of the castle. She did… but she didn’t get the castle in the photo. (She even cut off part of my head. I never asked her again – maybe that was her ploy.)

The first record of the castle is from the 12th century, when it was used by the Castillian royalty. It was abandoned from the 14th-18th century and most of what you see now is reconstruction due to the damage.

Segovia has a large Roman aqueduct. The legend behind it goes like this. Once there was a maid who every day had to trudge to and from the water, staggering under load after load of heavy pails. One day, she was so tired and frustrated that she cried out, “I’d sell my soul to the devil if he could build a water system by tomorrow!”

Naturally, the devil’s ears perked right up and he immediately set to work. The maid realized belatedly that she had just doomed herself to hell for eternity (although she was getting a killer aqueduct out of the deal) so she fell to her knees and began to pray for forgiveness. Lucky for her, God was feeling benevolent, and good-naturedly brought the first rays of sunrise over the horizon several minutes early, just before the devil set the last brick in place.

The cathedral of Segovia is the last gothic cathedral in Spain. “Graviado” is an intricate style of decoration from the Arabs, who according to their religion cannot recreate human figures. San Frutos is the patron saint of Segovia. Legend has it that once a year, the statue of San Frutos in front of the cathedral turns one page of the book in his hands, symbolizing his belief in the importance of education.

If you look along the horizon, you can make out a face in the landscape. This is The Lady of The Mountain, who also has a legend. Once, there were two warring families from either side of the mountain. The youngest child of one was a boy, the other a girl. One day, they chanced to meet and fell madly in love. All they wanted was to live together in peace. However, their families soon discovered their secret romance and a fierce battle ensued. During the battle, the girl tried to escape to her beloved. When the dust settled, the boy found the girl lying dead in the crossfire. Grief stricken, he carried her body high up the mountain and her sad face lingers there forevermore.

The St. Martin’s church has three kinds of construction: stone, brick, and rubble wall. The library next door used to be the jail.

The famous dessert of Segovia is torta ponche. It is a pastry filled with cream and cinnamon and drizzled with egg yolk. (It sounded good until I got to the last bit, didn’t it. I tried it and it was OK, but I couldn’t get past the whole egg-yolk-instead-of-icing idea.)

After we got back from Segovia, we showed and changed, and 5 of us headed out to see the Enrique & Estrella Morente flamenco show we’d bought tickets for. Adam and Shannon came along to see if they could score tickets at the gate. Only four people are allowed in a taxi, so the first four went ahead and I waiting with Adam and Shannon to flag the next taxi. The first two didn’t take us because they didn’t know how to get to the auditorium, but the third taxi said no problem, he knew exactly how to get there. He lied. 14E and an hour later, we finally roll up 15 minutes after show time. The show is sold out, so Adam and Shannon walk off in search of adventure elsewhere. I get stopped at the gate – I can’t go in because I have a camera. Maybe I can check it at the will call. So I go to the desk – no luck. The show is sold out and all the seats are full, so she’s locking up and going home. Frustrated, I finally end up selling my ticket for face value (although there was a swarm of people wanting in, so I probably could’ve named my price) and I headed back to the curb to flag a return taxi. About this time, Adam and Shannon show back up. What they had thought was a bar down the street was actually a private house party with loud music, so they had nothing going on. I tell them my sob story, and they offer to take my camera back to the dorm for me. Figures. I told them thanks but I already sold the ticket since I thought they’d split. It was all very Gift of the Magi. We catch a cab back (who did know how to get to the school, so we returned in minutes – all dressed up and nowhere to go.)

Tags: castles & palaces, cathedrals, music & concerts, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

On the morning of July 4, Madrid was not awash in red, white and blue, nor singing anything resembling “Proud to be an American”. In fact, if I wouldn’t have set out a red and white shirt and jean shorts the night before, I might have forgotten myself – that’s how non-4th-of-July-ish it seemed. As it was, I looked kind of country (sort of Daisy Duke meets Fraggle Rock) but American, without actually wearing anything flag-ish.

After some bread and OJ in the cafeteria, I headed outside to pile into the bus for a Madrid city tour. Madrid proper is home to 3 million people, and “greater” Madrid tacks on another two million. (So Dad – you were right.)

Spain is the second country in number of movie theatres and tickets sold in ratio with population – that’s right, second only to the U.S. Gran Via is just such a street, lined with theaters. Spanish movies were dubbed for the first time when Franco’s regime first came into power, since he censored any movies/books/etc that portrayed any ideas/statements/concepts he didn’t agree with or want the general public to be aware of. And after so many years of Franco’s dictatorship, the Spanish are simply used to hearing movies in their own language, and it wouldn’t make much sense for them to switch to subtitles at this point, since they’ve already got a working system in place. Actors and acresses with compelling performances and voices who match the original artist always portray that part. In other words, the person who speaks Kevin Bacon’s lines is the person whose voice most resembles his, and this person is the only person who ever speaks his parts, so that the voice always matches the person and never varies from movie to movie. It’s actually a prety neat system, and what was borne out of censorship has now evolved into tradition, and a kind of quasi-Hollywood of Spanish voice actors.

The tour took us by much of Madrid, including the Cibeles statue (the greek goddess of fertility), which is the symbol for the city and which was so loved that in the civil war (which, if you didn’t know, just ended in 1939) the townspeople covered the monument under a gigantic pile of trash. This way, it didn’t look like anything much, and the pilots overhead wouldn’t see it and bomb it.

There used to be five walls around the city of Madrid. Bits still remain, and the Alcalá Gate still stands in its entirety. Only the king could enter through the center, largest door, the nobility through the medium-sized middle doors, and the pedestrians through the smallest, furthest two. (Nowadays, we all enter via rail, tarmac, or superhighway. The times, how they change.)

The San Manuela / San Bonita church is extremely beautiful and free to marry in (for Catholics only, though.) For this reason, it is booked solid for at least two years in advance at all times. In fact, Madrileñas are known to book a date in the church first, and find a husband second!

The Salamanca Quarter is outside the city walls. The rich lived here because in the old days, the city proper was overcrowded, noisy, and smelly. This was partly because in early times, the shout of “Agua va!” preceded slop from a chamber pot being chucked out an open window into the street. (Thank heavens for modern plumbing!) Since the Salamanca Quarter was outside the city, it was new, and actually built using wide avenues and city planning.

Madrid’s Plaza de Toros is the most famous bullring in the world. (Not the oldest bullring – that’s the one I visited in Ronda.) It’s called “Las Ventas” and its fame is because this is where novilleros (uncertified bullfighters) try to pass examinations in order to become Toreros. (Officially, the highest level of bullfighter.)

While a person is a novillero, (”person” because women are bullfighters, too,) they only fight bulls who are less than four years old. Once they become a torero, however, the bulls are always more than four years old. Even novilleros in South America have to come here to Las Ventas in order to certify. It is *the* place and the only place, which is what makes it so famous. In front there’s a statue of Antonio Bienvenida, a famous torero who was (ironically) gored to death by an ordinary milk cow one day when he was walking down the street. (He was thrown and the fall snapped his neck.) Another statue is of a young fighter who was pinned when a bull stepped on his foot and gored him in the heart. That took place here, at Las Ventas.

In case you’re wondering, “matador” is another word for Torero – one you’ve probably heard more often, although in Spain, “Torero” is the real term – for “real” fighters, anyway. “Espada” is another slang term sometimes used. Espada means “sword” or “blade” and refers to the sticks the bulls get pricked with at the beginning of each fight. If the fight is a good fight, the Toreros proudly exit through the front door, to the paparazzi and a crowd of adoring fans. If the fight is a bad fight (meaning that the Torero took too long, causing the bull unnecessary suffering, OR that the bull did not fight back and basically tried to avoid the situation) the Torero slinks out the back door and goes home.

Bullfights have been around since Roman times. And, in case you’re wondering, the Romans did occupy Spain. In fact, that’s why Spaniards speak Spanish instead of Iberian or Arabic or German (all of whom previously occupied Spain). The Romans came and implemented their law structure, architecture, and language, all of which stayed in place until the infamous Ferdinand and Isabella got together, uniting Spain, making Spanish (technically ‘castellano” – to them, Spanish is a nationality, not a language) the official language. They also financed Columbus, expelled all the Jews because they decided Catholicism was they way to go and religious tolerance was overrated, oh, and started the Inquisition. (They were very busy people, as you can see.)

Back to the regularly programmed show. Slow clapping at a bullfight means that the bull is a bad bull (ie deformed, sick, not fighting back, etc) and when this happens, sometimes the bull is sent back and a replacement bull brought out. Toreros do kill the bulls, and they are supposed to take care of it as quickly as possible so that the bull does not suffer. The consider the toro (bull) to be extremely noble, and dying with honor. In fact, the bull can win the fight if he injures (or kills) the Torero. (Unfortunately for the bull, this just buys him about a week, until he’s called upon to fight another Torero.) Dead toros are sent to butcher shops because they are eaten. Lucky us, “Raba de Toros” and “Criadillas” are at their height at the moment, since bullfighting is in season. I won’t tell you what this means unless you ask – and may I say, if you are the queasy sort, you might not want to ask.

The picador (peek a door) is a guy atop a heavily padded horse and armed with a lance. His job is to pierce the bull’s skin with his lance if he needs the bull to a) become angry or b) lose blood to become weaker (which I think is cheating). Sunday nights are the “real” fights with the real Toreros and adult bulls. Other nights have fights with novilleros called novilladas (novice fights) which the tour guide recommended skipping, since they are some much bloodier because the fighters are still learning.

Although bullfighting is considered to be an “art form” in Spain, only 52% of the people love it and the other 48% hate it. It’s a huge culture/tradition versus Animal Rights controversy, even between the Spanish themselves. The stadium seats 23,000 people, and no longer sells out the crowds.

One particularly morbid tradition has to do with scoring the fights. If the fight is a good fight, the Torero “gets” to keep one of the bull’s ears. (Yes, the actual ear.) If it is a great fight, he gets both. If the fight is truly exceptional, he gets both ears *and* the tail. At the end of the season, the Toreros count up their prizes in order to see who won the most, and is therefore the best Torero in the world.

Recently, a torero was riding in an elevator, and when the doors opened, he was rushed by so many women screaming for autographs that the elevator cord snapped and they all fell several stories, and he broke both his legs. The headline in the newspaper the next day was “Women More Dangerous Than Bulls.”

A different kind of stadium is the soccer stadium where the Real Madrid play. (BTW, in Spanish, “real” means “royal”.) They have won the championship league nine times and fill the 100,000-seater stadium to capacity. Madrid actually has three different soccer teams, each with its own stadium. (Talk about your crosstown rivalry!) The Real Madrid stadium is an open air stadium with central heating, if you can believe that. In the winter, warm air circulates under the seats and a series of underground pipes pump hot water under the field to melt the snow. These people are *serious* about their soccer.

Castellana Avenue seperates the city from North to South, and near here is where you’ll find the leaning towers of Madrid. Yes, plural. These are the KIO towers and mark the northernmost point of the city. They were begun by a Kuwaiti firm that went bankrupt and were recently completed by three companies who picked up the ball (and the bill) and who are subsequently arguing over what the buildings show now be called.

Madrid is 2100 feet over sea level, which makes it the highest capital in Europe. (Not the highest city, but the highest capital.)

Architecture-wise, Spain is known for the mudéjar style (pron. moo DAY har). It is only found in Spain, and is due to the Arabic influence. Mudéjar is very pretty, and characterized by ceramics, bricks, and the horseshoe arch.

Back in the day (ie, before motorcars and assembly lines) Madrid was famous for having the purest air. European princesses from all over would journey here to give birth, just for this reason. In France, the saying was that Madrid’s air is “pure as champagne”.

Madrid is also the second greenest city in the world, runner up to (bizarrely enough) Tokyo. There are trees everywhere and a plethora of parks and gardens. Many of the trees are sycamores and chestnut rees, but the funniest is the madroño tree, whose fruit ferments into alcohol extremely quickly, and you can get drunk just by eating it. In fact, bears and other animals eat the madroño fruit that has fallen to the ground and then start stumbling and fall over when they try to walk away. (The fruit looks similar to a strawberry but tastes more sugary.) There’s a statue in the Puerta del Sol of a bear reaching for the fruit on a madroño tree. You’ll see this image all over, actually: on taxis, on manhole covers, etc. The madrileños don’t eat the fruit as is, typically, but instead use it as a liquer.

The Picasso tower is the highest building in Madrid, measuring in at 45 stories. For this reason, Madrid technically doesn’t have any sky scrapers, since all the buildings are less than 50 stories high. (You were right, Rob. I was wrong.)

One of the tall-but-not-a-skyscrapers recently burned down because a woman was working late at night, left her lit cigarette on her desk when she got up to get something from another room, and the next thing you know, the whole place is on fire. (Hardly anyone was there and no one got hurt, bt the entire thing is totalled, and there’s huge cranes knocking down the wreckage and cleaning the area.)

When Franco was still in power, he built Nuevos Ministerios and renamed all the streets in Madrid after himself and his cronies. He also commissioned 30 statues of himself and erected them all around the city. Although 10% of the population still supports Franco’s dictatorial ideas, all the statues have been removed since his death.

I also learned that the lake I discovered in Retiro Park the other day is sometimes used to recreate battles, and that the amphitheatre can be rented out for private bullfights. Retiro Park is over 220 acres, and used to be private property used only by royalty.

Madrid is also home to the Atocha train station, where on March 11 of last year, terrorists bombed and killed civilians. The station was immediately visited by so many people bringing flowers and candles that it quickly became impossible to get into the station (even on foot) for two months, until the government erected El Bosque de los Ausentes in Retiro Park as a monument to the victims.

Trivia: Madrid has all major US fast food chains except for one. Can you guess what it is? (Answer at bottom.)

Madrid has tons of great museums. Most famous, El Prado has 15,000 paintings and stands on what used to be a meadow with cows and donkeys in Retiro Park. The Thyssen museum was the second largest private art collection in the world until the owner died seven years ago and the government bought it.

Random Fact: Shakespeare, arguably the most important English writer, and Cervantes, the most important Spanish writer, both died the same day – April 23, 1616.

Madrid has an average of 1.1 children per family and a 10% unemployment rate. It ranks 59 out of the top 200 best places to live worldwide. (Bern, Switzerland was #1 and Moscow was #200.)

Stranger than fiction: In Madrid, pickpocketing is not a crime, because there is no weopan or force involved. At worst, you face one night in the comisería.

Economics: The average salary in Spain is 2000E per month, and you get double pay in December and July. Medicine is socialized and college only costs the 300E application fee. Condos, on the other hand, require a 24000E down payment. For this reason, most Spaniards don’t leave home until they get married.

One of the many highlights of the Madrid city tour was coming across a sangria fountain in a gift shop. What is a sangria fountain, you ask? Picture a water dispenser – filled with sangria! If the US has problems with employees hanging around the water cooler too much as is, imagine if it were filled with sangria! (Well, not so filled by the time *we* left there…)

Since it is the fourth of July (you forgot, didn’t you), the crew wanted to do something American, so we headed out for the Hard Rock Cafe. (You have to admit – that’s very American.) On the way to the metro, I came across a couple promo passes to War of the Worlds for the following night. The metro ride was entertaining, as there was a guy who kept coming over, playing his violin in our faces. (I guess that’s supposed to generate tips.)

The Hard Rock Cafe had a long queue, so we put our names in and walked down the street to an outdoor cafe. We drank sangria and listened to the live piano music for a little while before heading back to the Hard Rock, where I ordered the very un-spanish Vegetable Pesto Pasta. There was a (male) waiter dressed up in a skirt with fake breasts and a blond wig, prancing around saying, “I’m an American girl, vale? I no speak English, vale?” Hilarious. (And lovely to know that’s the impression we give.)

After this, the others went home but Alison and I dropped into the Campus bar across from the dorm, since they were having a 4th of July party (free shots for Americans, but good luck getting to the bar) where we ran into Bryan K, Paula, Lindsay, Isabel, et al. I only stayed long enough to say hi and happy fourth, then walked across the street to the dorm to hit the hay.

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

Trivia Answer: Spain has no Taco Bell. (go figure)

Tags: animals, cathedrals, museums, random facts & history, theatre & shows, wine

Madrid, Spain

After breakfast, Danielle, Kristin and I headed downtown to do some exploring. Our first stop was the Madrid tourist information office in Plaza Mayor, where we picked up a couple brochures and a city map. We split up and I wandered down a random side street. I passed a shoe store with cute, cheap shoes displayed in the windows, but it was packed and had a line of people out the door and halfway down the block. I took a number from the ticket dispenser (it felt eerily like being at the DMV) and wandered over to the next block and took some photos of a cathedral. I hurried back to the shoe store once I realized how much time had passed, but I had just missed my turn. (I did not take another number, then or ever, although every time I walked down this street, the store was always packed and the line always long.)

I walked past something called The Phone House, which was advertising a 45E cell phone. Figuring this was either a gimmick or at least a life-sentence contract, I dropped in to check it out. As it turned out, the contract was optional, and I could prepay service if I liked, and refill it or add to it whenever the need or mood struck. Sold! Perfect for emergencies.

I made my way back to the Plaza Mayor and met Kristin and Danielle for lunch. I got the vegetable paella, which was pretty good (even though the photo has odd lighting, since we were under orange tents.) And, I had my first experience with the Spanish bread and butter tricknology. It comes out before your food does – and it comes on your bill as a seperate charge. It’s not included in the meal price anywhere (unless specifically stated) but by the time the bill comes, it’s too late to argue, since you’ve already eaten the bread. (And even if you didn’t touch it, guess what: unless you said no up front, you still get to pay.)

Today was also Gay Pride Day, which is a very big deal in Madrid. There’s a huge parade, with a ton of people and music. (Kristin has a Top Ten Madrid book, and the Gay Pride Parade is in there as one of the must-see events!)

The street signs in Madrid are very cool. They’re painted tiles on the sides of buildings, each depicting a scene related to that name or part of town. And Puerta del Sol was all decked out, counting down the seconds until Madrid finds out whether or not it will be hosting the 2012 Olympics. (They are one of I think 6 candidate cities worldwide.)

Puerta del Sol is Madrid’s answer to Times Square, and here is also where Madrileños celebrate New Years. The tradition is to eat 12 grapes, one with each stroke of midnight. This may sound easy, but remember – the clock strikes quickly and Spanish grapes have seeds!

Tags: cathedrals, festivals & fiestas, food

Puerto Banus, Spain & Ronda, Spain

If you’ll recall, today is the day that instead of going to class, I am going to visit Ronda, home of Spain’s oldest bullring. (FYI: “Ro” like “row your boat”, not like “rah”.) When I arrived in Ronda, I met a girl (from my same excursion, though not from my hotel) named Eliana. She is from Argentina and was visiting a friend who had a summer house here in the Málaga area. Eliana is really nice and we hit it off right away. Apparently, we became fast friends a little too quickly, because the next thing we know, our tour guide is gone and the group disappeared right along with him.

We picked up a couple maps at the tourist information office and ended up making our own sightseeing tour, trying to follow the route the guide had indicated, but never quite catching up with him. What we *did* find was an absolutely breathtaking panoramic view of the area.

Ronda is an old city, perched atop a nest of mountains, overlooking an incredibly deep but beautiful gorge. An ancient Roman bridge snakes up the mountainside, made of stone blocks over a row of repeating arches. Old and new buildings balance on the edge of the gorge, and the people line the perimeter, enjoying the view of the bridge, the rocks, the cathedral, the mountains…

We came across the Plaza de Toros just in time to see the tour group! Unfortumately,they were scattering because it was the last guided stop before free time, but luckily the guilde was still there and we did not have to pay for admission. The bullring was massive. I could just imagine the thousands of spectators crowding each level, hundreds of years ago.

After this, Eliana and I stopped for lunch and I ordered a vegi pizza. Spanish vegi pizza is nothing like American vegi pizza. First of all, you don’t pick what goes on it. You don’t even get to know in advance. Secondly, what does come on it is different at each restaurant and always appears a bit random. For example, the most abundant vegi on this particular pizza was corn. You heard me. Corn.

Naturally, we couldn’t find the bus stop when it was time to pile back in, but at least this time we were not alone. We had met up with half a dozen or so travellers from England, who were also very lost, and took turns asking us if we knew where we were going. Finally, I said I’d ask someone, walked up to the nearest local, and asked him if he knew where the tourist buses typically picked up. Sure, he said, and gave some easy directions.

The British woman turned to me and said, “I didn’t know you were from Spain!” “I’m not,” I answered. Her eyes got round and she exclaimed, “But you speak Spanish so *well*!” (Apparently my English is a little sketchy, however.)

So we get back on the bus, which makes a stop at Puerto Banus on the way back. Eliana tells me that Puerto Banus is a famous, rich Spanish port, with an impressive array of yachts and a large statue that appears in lots of Spanish movies. We walked along the port, saw lots of yachts, several fish and even a ray before it was time to head back to our hotels.

Back at the hotel, I was just in time for dinner and the nightly entertainment. As usual, it was Mario, the hotel singer who sings to karaoke CDs (without the lyric screen) and plays along on an electric keyboard, although one time he stopped to answer his cell phone mid-song and the music mysteriously kept playing. He “plays” a short set, but he plays the set three times a night, and you can bank on hearing Shakira, Every Step You Take, Pretty Woman (which he mumbles through since he doesn’t know the words except to the chorus) and this undulating, bouncy yodel tune, to which he yodels his name (”Mario-hee, Mario-hoo”, etc.) At first, we believed he invented that particular ditty himself, but we were to later learn that it is in fact a real song.

Tags: animals, cathedrals, lost, lost in translation, music & concerts, road trip