Soaking Up the Sun in Asturias

After flying to and from the USA for Gillian’s wedding, I was glad to have a fairly tranquil week back in Madrid to make the trans-Atlantic fiasco easier. Fortunately, SK & I had already booked train tickets to Gijon in order to visit Ida again. We traversed half of Spain, speeding through Castile-La Mancha and winding throughout the Cantabria Mountain Range of Asturias. Already knowing Gijon, I was hoping that this weekend would simply be one to relax and spend time with friends; my hopes were realized.

Throughout this school year, it has been such a pleasure to spend time with Ida on those special weekends when we have gotten together in one place or another. Since we don’t have her in Madrid, SK and I enjoyed being around her calming presence and sharing in her love of Gijon this past weekend. We also enjoyed meeting and re-meeting a couple of her friends, Jennifer from Brasil and Alex from Canada. We got together with those girls for some beach, some food, and some dancing fun!

We had superb weather during our entire stay! The north of Spain is characterized and infamous for its rainy, dreary weather, whose gusty Atlantic winds wrack the coastline for most of the year. Apparently, SK & I came for the best weekend of 2010 to date with temperatures reaching the lows 70s, clear blue skies, and a cool breeze (well, I thought it was a pretty cold at times). The locals were taking full advantage of the marvelous spring weather and everyone was out on the beaches, sitting in outside terrazas, and wearing shorts and dresses… and we did, too!

We joined the sun-deprived masses and spent a few hours on the beach on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. The water was way too cold for my liking, but I was perfectly content to soak up the soft rays of the Sun (while wearing lots of sunscreen!) and have a seat in the sand to do some serious people watching. Don’t worry… no topless ventures this beach trip. They’re not as loose in the North as they are in the South.

Of course, we ate quite well while over the weekend. In Asturias, the portions are much more generous than in other parts of the country, and we reveled in their gloriousness. We dined on Asturian meats & cheeses and on their fruits of the sea, such as shrimp and pastel de cabracho. We also enjoyed that very singular Asturian beverage called sidra (cider); we either marveled at the servers pouring the fermented fruit juice from above their heads into the culín below their waist or we gave it a shot ourselves. Many good hours were spent either around a ciderhouse table or reclined in a metal chair, feeling the warm sunshine on our faces and taking deeps breaths in the fresh sea air.

We did venture out of the center of Gijon to get a glance at Ida’s school and to reach the top of the University tower, as seen below. The lush green mountains and quaint groups of houses are characteristic of Asturias, which was what Sarah and I saw for much of our train ride back to Madrid on Monday afternoon.
I promise… I DO actually live in Madrid. I made it back on Monday afternoon in time to have a couple of private classes. Work—school and private lessons—continues as normal. My free time in the city has been enjoyable, and I am working on the Mother of All Blogs to relay to you the highlights from my spring months in Madrid. Just you wait…

One Down, Two to Go!

There may be a cloud of volcanic ash looming over Europe these days, and although it did give me reason to worry, I didn’t let it stop me from flying back to the USA this past weekend in order to be a part of a very important event.

On Saturday, May 15, 2010, one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world, Gillian, got married... and I was there to witness it! Actually, other than the pastor who officiated the ceremony and the groom, I was the closest one to Gillian as she spoke her vows and exchanged rings with Charles (the groom). Since G asked both Erin and me to be her Co-Maids of Honor, there was no way I was going to miss the day she said “I do!”

Thus, I traveled across the Atlantic last Thursday in order to make the big wedding weekend. For the 10^th time and for the last time (or for a while, at least), I flew to Frankfurt, Germany and made my goodbyes to that well-known airport. I even thought it necessary to buy a postcard since I’ve spent so much time there. Then, I flew to ATL where I had arranged to be picked up by my parents and to fly in at the same time as Justin. My joy in greeting the three most important people in my life was delayed by US Customs, whose line I waited in for nearly 2 hours! Ugh, it was quite painful and I was quite antsy to get on with the “Welcome to the USA” process. Finally through customs and security, I was rounding the corner of the security checkpoint when I was caught by surprise. Justin had patiently waited to surprise me there instead of at Baggage Claim. How wonderful it was to see him in person! Not long after, we met my parents with hugs and hellos, grabbed my luggage, and headed off to the Dear Farm.

We spent last Thursday night at my grandparents’ farm, a very special place in my heart, with Dear and Pop-Pop. Also, my Aunt Cary and cousin Elizabeth decided to stay the night too, which was a pleasant surprise. Being at the farm was a great way to rest and relax after my somewhat arduous journey, and I was very happy to be back in the same place where Justin proposed only on a few months ago.

On Friday, we drove to Montgomery, Alabama. Although Gillian is a Dothan girl, she and Charles both went to Huntingdon College in the Alabama capital, and they wanted to get married in the same church they attended and served during those years. I first saw the bride at the hotel, and at first it all seemed just a little surreal. That evening, we went to the church for the rehearsal and dinner. Erin and I gave a little speech after the meal, and I don’t know if anything that came out of my mouth made any sense whatsoever... but I meant ever word I said. Since Gillian isn’t what you’d call “the party type,” her last night as a single woman was pretty tranquil. The bridesmaids just hung out together at the hotel by the pool until the Sand Man showed up and suggested we get some good rest. I didn’t object… I still was a bit jet lagged.

Saturday came bright and early when Erin woke up at 7 and proceeded to bother both G and me (we all slept in an enormous bed together… something we always do when given the chance to have a sleepover). Gillian didn’t give any sign of nerves or over-excitement, but I could tell she was ready to get on with the show. At 9:30, some select ladies met at the Montgomery Country Club to attend the Bridesmaid Luncheon that my mother and Erin’s mother put on for Gillian. We brunched on delicious quiche, fruit with poppy seed dressing, and bread pudding. Of course, I managed to suck down several glasses of the best drink in the world, Southern Sweet Tea (aka Liquid Sugar). Gillian and her mom dashed off to get their hair done for the wedding, and so some of us B’maids wandered around Huntingdon for a time until it was our turn to go get ready at the church and do our own hair. With more than enough time on our hands, we twisted, turned, and curled our hair until it wouldn’t curl any more and then we waited for the bride, who showed up with quite a do! Gillian was gorgeous and even though we had to sew a button back on her dress to keep it together, she looked like an angel.

Following the photographer’s instructions, we gathered around the gorgeous blooming hydrangeas in front of the church sanctuary to take some pictures. G’s Mom put me in charge of making sure all the family was in the right place and in the right picture later. Before we knew it, it was time to get undercover because the guests were beginning to arrive. Calmly, we waited in the salon for our cue to come line up at the back of the church. In the back of the line, Erin and I got a bit silly, but we still enjoyed hearing Leanne Boykin’s beautiful voice fill the sanctuary during the Prelude. Then, the boys went in… and one by one, so did the girls. Gillian and her father made a grand entrance to a trumpeting organ. The service went by in a flash… and we were out of there in less than 25 minutes. And then Gillian and Charles were married! (But I suppose that's how it always goes...)

The reception was in the church’s fellowship hall, and it was beautifully decorated with hydrangeas, white and green roses, and other greenery whose names escape me. The food was tasty, but I’ll admit that I didn’t eat too much because I so badly wanted to talk to some friends of mine that I hadn’t seen in ages. Unfortunately, the church wouldn’t let G&C have any music (I don’t fully understand why), and thus the Happy Couple hardly stayed an hour. And before I could say “lickety split,” it was all over and people were clearing out.

Saturday night and Sunday morning were spent relaxing at the hotel with my parents (which include G’s and Erin’s parents, too), my brother, Erin & Myles, and Justin. Sunday afternoon, my parents drove Justin and I back to the Atlanta-Hartsfield International Airport to catch our respective flights back to our current homes. Pretty soon, though, Justin and I won’t be living in separate homes… because in just 93 days, we’re getting married and thus will be living in a new home together. Yeah, that’s exciting.

Gillian was the first of the Three Musketeers to get married. I’ll be the second and Erin the third (talk about one fun New Year’s Eve). G certainly set the standard by remaining cool, calm, and collected throughout the entire weekend, and I hope I will follow suit when it’s my turn in August.

A Sunny—and Slightly Scandalous—Day in Málaga

Sevilla is not the only reason that the South of Spain is special. Thanks to one of the stereotypical qualities of Southerners—being that they are so relaxed to the point of laziness—, Sarah and I ended up with an extra day to travel with our Eurorail ticket when the train station staff of Sevilla failed to mark our passes two weeks ago. We decided to make a day of it and go back to the South, but this time to Málaga.

Málaga is on the Andalusian coast, is one of the oldest cities in the world (dating back to 770 BC when it was founded by the Phoenicians), and is currently one of Spain’s most important port cities. Even though its home to over 550,000 people, the city centre of Málaga is fairly compact but nonetheless charismatic. Small plazas tucked between gorgeous building facades are full of people from morning until night. Palm trees fan out from their flowery beds, flirting with their neighbouring fountains as they sway back and forth in the light breeze. The eye-pleasing cathedral, nicknamed La Manquita (The One-Armed Lady), sits nobly in the middle of palm trees and plazas, its bells sounding the hour from its lone completed bell tower. Under her imperious watch, SK & I had a satisfying breakfast of toast with tomato and jamón Serrano, sipped on some coffee, and enjoyed the restful atmosphere.

Later, we followed a mangled brick path up the hill of the Alcazaba, the ancient Moorish fortress that still maintains its dominant position over the city from a large hill just to the side of the city centre. There we passed through Moorish arches and lovely rose gardens, all the while adoring the architecture and admiring the spectacular view.

I’ll be honest; the main reason why we chose to spend the day in Málaga is because we wanted a day at the beach. The weather in Madrid has been absolutely horrendous and we wanted to have just one good day in the sun and the sand. And that is what we got. I’ll continue to be honest; I did something I’ve never done before in my life. After almost two years of living in Spain, I have finally accepted and taken on as my own one of their distinct customs, one that is quite contradictory to their more conservative history. For the first time in my life, I laid out on a beach… top-less. (Gasp! Sigh! How scandalous!) Yes, it’s true. I bared my breast to the sun and my fellow sun-bathers. And you know what? I’m not ashamed to say it. I’ll admit that my actions were anything but modest. However, I am learning how to suspend my judgments of the Spanish people and their crazy ways, and the best way for me to do that is join them in some of their craziness! And hey, I was wearing sunscreen.

With lots of sun soaked into our skin, SK & I spent the last couple of hours enjoying food and drink in cool shaded plazas. It was the perfect ending to our glorious day in Málaga, and I thought it was simply perfect that we happened to choose to sit in the wicker chairs of the Café del Viajero (the Traveler's Café), where we ate crepes and sipped on fruity cocktails. Indeed, what a beautiful Saturday it was!

So You Think You Can Dance... Sevillanas!

Sitting in the Häagen-Dazs Theater, I was entranced for the second time by Sara Baras, who this time had captivated my attention in her final show Esencia. As I watched the flamenco dancers twist their arms and stomp their feet to the pulsing rhythm, the soft sound of the Spanish guitar wove a background story for the performers while the singers wailed their point of view in an aching ballad. SK & I spent our first Friday night after our Semana Santa journey (April 9, that is to be exact) diving into what some might consider—and others strongly debate— lo essecial de España, the essence of Spain, flamenco music and dance. Flamenco music and dance is a Spanish tradition that comes from the southern regions of the country, namely Andalucía. For many, Andalucía holds the most widely recognizable Spanish elements: bull fights, tapas, olive trees, heat, and flamenco. While sitting in the glamorous Madrid theatre, I felt myself being pulled away from the busy big-city life and slipping into a world where time moves slowly and fluidly. And two Fridays ago (that would be April 23rd), I was flying down the railways on the AVE, Spain’s high-speed train, to the land where Sara Baras brought her trade.

It was the last weekend of La Feria de Sevilla (The Fair of Seville), and SK & I gathered a small group of women to experience this southern city the way its meant to be experienced. Elly, one of my good friends that I met at church, and Charlotte, an English girl who works with SK, joined us for their first visit to Sevilla. Susana, a Spanish girl and conversation student of SK, also came; and the five of us all took the AVE down Friday night. Ida bravely traversed almost the entire span of the country, taking a 12 hour bus ride from Gijon, in order to see Sevilla for the first time. We met her at our hostel, which was more like a little apartment, late Friday night. Traveling with a group of six was quite different than going with just one other person. It took us longer to get ready, especially with our one little bathroom shower, and it took us longer to get places, because some people walk slower than others (cough, cough). However, I really enjoyed having all these great ladies together, and it was fun to be able to have so many great conversations as we ambled along the river walk or strolled through luscious gardens.

Having already been to Sevilla twice, I wasn’t surprised by the wonderful charms of the city; rather I could just take them in and bask in their glory. As we wandered through the winding alleyways, a blanket of vines stretched across the narrow gaps between the white-washed walls, offer some shaded relief from the bright sunshine. Taking a deep breath, Ida remarked, “the air is delicious,” and she couldn’t have said it more perfectly. The flowers spilled from their green resting places, bursting forth in a brilliant showing of colour. Their sweet scent filled the air, and with the humidity, you could almost drink the air for its wetness and deliciousness. [Of course, we enjoyed the real tastiness of Sevilla by eating at some great food at La Taberna Colonial twice and having Rayas gelato every day.] After passing through the grand Plaza de España (unfortunately under much construction), we moseyed through the gardens of Maria Cristina, which seemed like a subtropical refuge, far away from any city. On another day, we were witness to the way the sun hits the city with its passionate rays from the belfry of the old mosque tower, La Giralda, of the Cathedral of Sevile.

The main attraction of the weekend was the fairgrounds, and it was unlike any fairgrounds I’ve ever set foot on. Well, not all of it was unfamiliar… One half of the grounds were dedicated to good old-fashioned fair fun, complete with Ferris Wheels, watery slides, fatty foods, and impossible challenge games; all of which completely took me back to my hometown fair. The other half of the grounds were nothing close to what you might find in the South of the USA, but it is something the South of Spain takes great pride in. Divided by cobblestone streets, rows of tents varying in size, called casetas, formed cheery lines of plastic and metal. Small tables, chairs and stools were smashed inside the tents, and people were crammed in between them all. Also, when peeking inside the tents, we caught glimpse of people dancing to, clapping with, and playing Sevillanas music, which is more folk version of flamenco. Wrists twisted and heels pounded the floor in a pattern movement and sound as both women and men took over the small dance space within the casetas. During the day, the music from the casetas competed with numerous horses, whose bells jingled and whose hooves clip-clopped as they trotted along the cobblestone streets.

One of the most entertaining parts of the weekend was admiring and ridiculing the crazy Sevillana-flamenco outfits that we encountered all weekend. They came in every colour combination known to Mankind—some I adored, others I detested (who wears green and red at any other time other than Christmas?!). Some were polka dotted; some were laced; some were short; all were tight, tight, tight through the hips and had ruffled bottoms that swayed with movement. When SK studied in Sevilla about 4 years ago, she bought a beautiful red flamenco dress for herself, and of course, she brought it to feria. I borrowed a skirt from a friend, and so I got to dress up Sevillana-style, too! We looked the part, so much so that while we were touring the Alcazar Palace on Sunday, tourists kept taking our picture or asking to take pictures with us! That night, as we waited on the bridge to watch the fireworks, a journalist-cameraman asked me to pose for him while the colourful bursts of light lit up the sky. Thankfully, I didn’t have to look at the camera, but I was quite uncomfortable hearing the click-click-click going off behind my head every time there was a boom-boom-boom in front of me. Of course, all the other girls just snickered and giggled during this impromptu photoshoot. I didn’t like it too much, but I hope that man got a good picture or two out of it.


All in all, it was a lovely little trip down to Sevilla. The south is special… always and everywhere. And I brought back some of Spain’s southern charm to add to the charm of my coming southern wedding... yippee!