*written weeks ago, about September 8th - Published now because, well, that's a long story* A long long time ago, at the beginning of my study abroad in Quito, Ecuador, I wrote a blog about an intense Sunday I had with my host family that went for eight hours, involved two different locations, and an enormous family. Little did I know, Ecuadorians have nothing on Spaniards. I have become more accustomed to “vermouth,” the Spanish custom of going out to bars for drinks and maybe have an appetizer or two before lunch and, even while it is still strange for me, I have begun to enjoy the community feeling of having a “vermouth.” However, as I am with everything, I like to know ahead of time that it is going to happen so I can be prepared mentally and with appropriate attire/snacks for the hours it will surely take. Thus when Gonzalo asked me last Saturday if I wanted to come to his pueblo (town) for a ceremonial (outdoor) mass to mark the beginning of Fall, I said yes but asked if that would be all or if we’d be staying for lunch. He assured me that we’d be back in Logroño by two – although did say we may grab a drink or two before heading out. Saturday morning by 10:30, we’d picked up Gonzalo’s friend and were heading down the freeway to the pueblo. Though the ceremony was held outside of a church, the crowd was large and I couldn’t see or hear anything besides a mariachi band. Yes, a Mexican mariachi band at this Spanish tradition. Why? No idea. An hour or so later we went into town for our vermouth. Due to the whole “healing my stomach” thing, I can only drink water so as we went from bar to bar to bar I got more and more and more hydrated. The party in town was filled with traditional dancing, regular dancing, hordes of people chatting, drinking, and enjoying their Saturday fiesta. The mariachi band also made it back to town, so the music was excellent – and still unexplained for this Spanish festivity. A few drinks in, Gonzalo’s mom joined us and after one more we ran into some other family members who insisted we come over for lunch. They assured me they had something I could eat with my very limited diet – planning out my particular menu in front of me. I had suspected this would happen and could tell from the tone of asking that NOT going to lunch was not an option, so we said yes and joined even more of the family at another bar. I was confused, thinking we’d planned to eat at someone’s house, but sure enough it was just another stop of the vermouth. I got yet another water and chatted with relatives and friends of Gonzalo’s until we finally began to wander to the house. Once there, I stood around having YET MORE WATER and, of course, chatting. Eventually I helped set the table with dish-ware and then ham. Pork, being one thing I can eat, the ham was immediately removed from the table and handed directly to me. I took a piece and tried to put it back because it is awkward being the only one holding a plate of ham as people smile at you encouragingly, but was told to keep it, after all, it was basically all I could eat! Gonzalo’s friend took pity on me and began eating the ham too so I felt less singled out. By this point, it was past 3pm. I don’t remember exactly what time we finally sat down and were dished out soup and poured wine (or were grilled beef and poured water if you’re me), but I was perfectly content talking and eating and enjoying the huge and wonderfully welcoming family. Plus, I figured it may be 4 or 5 by the time we left for Logroño, but that’s not too bad all things considered. The meal was delicious and though I insisted the steak had filled me up, I was plied with more and more ham as the others had their first and second plates. We eventually finished with coffee and I got to check out the family chickens before leaving for Gonzalo’s family’s place. It was raining and I figured we would head out shortly. As with many things while living abroad, I figured wrong. I began to hear rumblings about bulls running through the town “like Pamplona but smaller and not dangerous”. I couldn’t figure out whether it was a joke or not until Gonzalo’s mom ensured me that they had “mini bulls” run around a circle of buildings within the pueblo – in fact, they would run right in front of their front door. I’ll be honest with you, I did not want to stay. It had been a long (and unplanned) day, I was tired, I was hungry and running low on snacks, and honestly, I have trouble with the whole bull thing. I’ve never seen a bullfight, and while I recognize it as integral to Spanish culture and interesting in terms of “human vs. beast,” my bleeding heart hurts for the bulls. Thus, I was hesitant to watch whatever was about to happen in this pueblo. Due to my shorter fuse, but tempered by the fact I was a guest, I resorted to slight sarcasm as I asked and then prodded what was about to happen and why. Just as I was realizing no one would be able to explain this tradition to me, someone in the street called out “viene!!!” which basically means “he’s coming!” and meant that the small bull was on his way towards us. At first, this was all ridiculous. I watched from the door as first people then a small bull ran by the door. Then there would be nothing for awhile until the bull would arrive back at our point in the circle, which we were forewarned by the shouts of “viene!” They’d pass again. Not much to it. We realized we’d have a better view from the garden, so we took advantage of one of the moments where the previous bull was put back in the pen and another was released, to sprint down the street to the garden. From the garden, we were above the street and had a much better view. Though I was even colder, this was the moment that despite my irritation and reservations, I began to enjoy myself. It was actually fun, the anticipation of the bulls rounding the corner, the people from the town watching from windows, houses, or hanging on gates and fences, other townspeople sprinting ahead of the bulls – stopping to allow them to get a little bit closer and give the audience a scare. One man put out an old chair with a reflective blanket covering it so when the bull saw it, he charged, throwing the chair into the sky with his horns, nearly missing those of us perched on the garden wall. It was thrilling. No one got hurt and the bulls left safely and happily for their next town. After dark, we finally began back towards Logroño. I was too exhausted to speak in English, let alone Spanish and was more than happy to fill up with an apple and almond butter before crashing into bed, chuckling to myself about my Spanish day and my classically skeptical approach to it.
27 Comments
It’s been awhile! During the past two months, I traveled with my cousin, soaked up time at home with my parents in California, enjoyed hanging out around Spain, and prioritized getting my health together. My plan had been to blog while at home about my adventures with my cousin and to catch up on stories that I hadn’t had a chance to refine and publish. But then, I got home and binge watched Parenthood with my mom, caught up on New Girl with my dad, played games with my brother, met my friends’ babies, slept a lot, and started fixing my stomach. Essentially, I didn’t do anything and it was wonderful.
Now, however, I am back in Spain! More than that, two weeks ago, I took my first trip to my new home: Las Palmas de Gran Canaria in the Canary Islands. In visiting the islands I had three goals, which I’ll get into later, but first, some things about the Canary Islands. There are seven islands and I’m on one of the two main islands, Gran Canaria (Gran Canaria and Tenerife switch off holding the government etc.). In Gran Canaria, I’m in the capital, Las Palmas. Roughly 380,000 people live in Las Palmas, which means it’s over double the size of Logroño. It’s about 575 miles from the continent of Africa (closer than the span of the archipelago) while a whooping 1,235 miles from Madrid. With that in mind, I set out for my first time in the Canaries. The Las Palmas adventure started well before the flight landed. Because Gonzalo was coming with me on this trip, I packed one of my big suitcases (optimistic I’d find an apartment) and I’d packed it with the heaviest things I had, knowing Gonzalo would be able to help me. We were flying RyanAir, so I don’t know why I thought I could get away with a potentially overweight piece of luggage, but alas. When I arrived to the check-in counter (after panicking that I’d be too late to check in my bag until Gonzalo assured me I’d read the information wrong), I placed my bag on the weigh station and was told that my bag was 28.9 kilos. The limit was 20. I asked what it cost for overweight luggage and was staggered by the 11 euro/kilo price tag. 100 euros was a definite no, so Gonzalo and I pulled my bag to the side and began to take the heaviest things out. After removing my three LSAT study books, other books/journals, and some clothes and stuffing them into both my backpack and Gonzalo’s and then taking out my two heaviest seeming shoes and tying them to the outside of our bags, I crossed my fingers and towed my suitcase back to the counter. 20.9 kilos and 0 extra euros needed. Unfortunately, we’d at least doubled the weight of our personal backpacks, but RyanAir didn’t weigh those. Another disaster averted. Once actually in Las Palmas, I could focus on my priorities: a) find a place to live b) see what my school is like c) get to know a little bit of the Canary Islands. We arrived to Las Palmas at nearly midnight, so my ability to accomplish any of my priorities were limited. I did, however, make my first observation about the Canaries. I knew the moment the Airbnb host opened her mouth I would be in trouble if I didn’t have a native Spanish speaker with me. The Canaries accent is not, as I’d been told, like that of Latin America (that I knew) and it’s certainly not anything like the Rioja “sing-song” accent I’d adapted quickly to. Between my exhaustion and unfamiliarity with the accent, I barely understood anything our host was saying. Thankfully, she was very kind and understood my struggle and thus directed her suggestions to Gonzalo. The next morning I woke up to see the beach and ocean flowing out from basically directly under the airbnb. From the terrace, you could see the entirety of the famous 2km beach: Las Canteras. Gonzalo and I went to walk the beach where I was delighted to find warm water and sea glass everywhere. Our beach walked turned into checking out the areas by apartments that I was interested in and then into finding food from fresh and bio markets. I was feeling great about my new hometown, feeling like I was getting to know important parts of the city, until we sat down on the terrace for a breakfast of fresh fruits from the local market. I texted the owners of four apartments I was interested in and cut into my peach. Noticing that the colors in my peripheral vision didn’t match colors I associated with peaches, I looked down and was horrified to find it swarming with black worms. After sealing the peach into a bag and tossing it into a closed garbage can (okay, Gonzalo did this, but still) and I cut carefully into a second (and worm-free) peach, I looked back at my phone. Two apartment owner’s told me there rooms were no longer available, one told me they had to go out of town suddenly, and one first told me to come over, but then asked to wait a day. Between the apartments and the peach, I tried to convince myself that my time here wasn’t already cursed and that all would soon be well. After setting up some other, less ideal, apartment visits and soaking up some of the warm Canaries sun from the blazing hot sand of the beach, I decided I might as well figure out how to get to my school. Luckily, getting to my new school is easy with the extensive bus system of the city. It’s mainly easy though, because it’s just one school. Gonzalo was on board with my plan, so we hopped on a bus and navigated down the steep steps until we reached a HUGE (for my pueblo standards) school surrounded in a giant wall. The super hilly area is called “escaleritas” which means, appropriately, Little Stairs. I couldn’t see much due to the wall, but it was nice to check it out. Goal #2 of Las Palmas, check! The following days I had no success with apartments. Even since then, I’ve gone through feeling good and bad about this process, but I recognize that it just seems trickier because of how easy it was last year. I wrote about my process in one of my earliest blogs: I had a favorite, I saw my favorite, I chose my favorite, and I moved in. This year, I came back to Spain with one favorite apartment and a couple back-ups. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see my top choices while I was there and the ones I did see, I didn’t like. I resigned myself to instead find a place to keep my huge suitcase for the two weeks before I’d be back. Luckily, our super airbnb host offered to keep my suitcase and I was set. Since then I’ve continued looking for apartments online and have firmed up dates to see my two favorite apartments as soon as I get back from orientation. Essentially, Goal #1 of going to Las Palmas is still in the works. That left me with Goal #3: get to know my new area. This process naturally happens slowly, but surely and I’m glad I got to start the process before being thrown into the thick of things with school starting. I began to get a feel of the city and the zones within the city and the neighborhoods within the zones. I have ones that I like more than others and I know where I’d like to live. I got to see which side of the beach was mostly locals and which end held the tourists. I learned that the historic center is an hour walk from the main beach and living area. I learned that the completely tourist populated beach on the south of the island is only 40 minutes by bus. I learned where the big, busy, bustling street was, where the massive natural food store is (and smaller alternatives) and where the fresh market filled with glassy eyed fish and fruits and vegetables of every color imaginable. As I got to know Las Palmas, I began to note the things I liked and disliked about the area. It’s hard, because I know I’m comparing it to Logroño, and I (if it wasn’t blatantly obvious) love Logroño. I’ll give you my first impressions, but I’m going to keep an open mind about the things I liked less. The accent is automatically more challenging, but I know I’ll adjust to it. I had more people brush me off when I asked for help or tell me to ask the next person than anywhere else I’ve traveled in Spain. At the same time, some people really went above and beyond and were so kind, so like anywhere else, it’s a mixed bag. The city is bigger than Logroño as I mentioned above, so it’s not as walkable and I’ll have to take the bus to get to different parts of town. I know this is very “boo-hoo” for everyone living in Madrid and that I was spoiled being able to walk everywhere in Logroño, but still. Locals told me the food was nothing special and that’s a big change from the pinchos of Calle Laurel. ALSO with the food, I cut into various fruits and veggies throughout my week to find bugs. I’m *really* hoping this doesn’t continue, but now I feel too nervous to just bite willy-nilly into any produce. These are all small things really, and over all I am SO excited for my new city. Naturally, I love the beach. The water is warm and swimmable and the beach is perfect for sitting and reading. The weather, though often cloudy in Las Palmas, is warm and will continue to be so all year, which is a huge relief considering sometimes I still feel like I’m thawing from my Logroño winter. Though going out for drinks before meals is less prevalent in the Canaries than on the mainland, you still see groups of locals of all ages meeting up for their beers or coffees and I love that. The food stores, including the huge fresh market and the giant natural supermarket, are remarkable and seem more navigable than those I’ve experienced thus far in Spain. The natural supermarket is particularly helpful with my current “getting healthy” process. Along with this, I’ve found various (and already have a favorite) restaurants that just grill things so you can take them home. The rotisserie chicken is particularly delicious. I also found a new dish that I fell in love with: gambas al ajillo. It’s just shrimp cooked in olive oil with garlic, but I ate at least one ration a day. Monday I headed to Fulbright orientation and tomorrow it’s back to the Canaries, so wish me luck as I try to find a place to live, move in, and start my first day as an English Teaching Assistant at a new school! I have another blog coming soon about a particularly Spanish Saturday I had and I’ll keep you all updated with my fails and tales from my new adventure. |
AuthorWelcome to the blog portion of my blog Archives
November 2018
Categories |