Life in Valla

To title this post "Life in Valla" is probably a bit presumptuous seeing as I have only really lived here for about two weeks. I haven't really spent enough time here yet to be able to lay claim to a "life" here. It is probably better classified as "An American's Blip of a Time in Valladolid," but that just doesn't sound quite as official. Also, I wanted to convey the idea that this post is about my going-ons in Valladolid and the life (however short-timed it may be) I am living here. Anyway, here are some blurbs of things that have been going on, some of the places I have visited, and a few photos of the city. I don't have as many pictures as I would like, but that just means there will be more to post later.

We were having trouble finding dad's European power converters when I left home, so we got on Amazon.es (Spain's Amazon) and ordered this power strip and had it sent to my host family's address, so it was here when I arrived. It plugs into a Spanish outlet, but you can plug just about anything into it. So I have my American things plugged in here as well as my bed-side Spanish lamp :)

This is the Iglesia de San Pablo here in Valladolid. I have yet to fully explore it, this is simply a picture from our initial walking tour of the city.

The only thing I've really explored so far in the city (besides the city itself) in terms of locales and museums, was the Colegio de San Gregorio. I don't really know much of it's history, today it is mostly a museum of old religious art, of which some pictures appear below. Again, as I mentioned before, I love woodwork, but unfortunately you will have to try to enjoy it from the semi-decent-quality photos I have below. It just looks so incredible in real life, I wish I could capture that on film. Sometimes I wish I was an avid photographer with a fancy camera (that I would know how to use, of course).

This is the exterior facade of the building, very intricate.

Inside the courtyard.

And there is me, inside said courtyard.

Some of the gorgeous woodwork.

Me on a staircase, I call it, "The Defiant Decent of a Foreigner."

The ceiling to the "The Defiant Decent of a Foreigner" staircase.

And more of the staircase.

A panoramic of the inner courtyard (a different one from the previously mentioned courtyard). Taken from one of its corners.

A panoramic from the center of the courtyard

Me appearing in many of my fabulous forms, all at the same time :)

Some more shots of the courtyard

More beaming, glorious wood (get it, like a wood beam, it's a pun, hehehehe, I make myself laugh sometimes).

An elaborate and intriguing ceiling. Tell me, how does it make you feel?

The old choir lofts, gorgeous polished wood :) I love these, they are all over Spain in the old churches, I want one in my future dream home.

The upper level of the courtyard, where we found ourselves part way through the tour.

Do I even need to caption this, I love the woodwork here so much!

More gorgeous ceilings.

And yet more incredible ceilings. Why are these not a thing anymore, like in Point we have those horrible bubbly-paint ceilings, why can't the Residence Halls have something like this?!

This if for you, dad. Probably one of the only not "cutesy" portrayals of an angle I've seen. This things actually looks like it might have to tell its beholder, "fear not!"

This is for my Redwall and Brian Jacques fans, appearantly there is a Saint Eulalia in the Catholic church. I looked her up on wikipedia, and she does not have a very happy story, but I guess "happy" doesn't usually go hand-in-hand with martyrdom. But interesting none the less, it is even spelled the same as in Jacques' books, I wonder if they have anything in common.

As we were leaving the museum, we asked the lady behind the counter if she knew of a place nearby where we could get chocolate con churros. And get this, she asked me if I was a Spaniard. Guys, I got mistaken for a Spaniard by a Spaniard!! Granted, I only said one word, "vale" (v/bAH-lae, their word for ok), and it was probably only because it was after another girl in our group had been saying the American "ok," so that helped my "vale" stand out and sound Spanishy, but seriously, I'm practically a native now! This is so cool :)

***

Me and a few others in my group have started attending a small Evangelical church here in Valladolid. It seems like a very nice community, with quite a few fellow college-aged peers. There is a collegiate bible study that I am hoping to get plugged into, I think it would be so cool and beneficial to have a local, Spanish, peer, Christian community while I am here.
The services are two hours long, starting with an hour of worship accompanied by congregational prayer (just jumpin' in as the Spirit leads), then followed by a forty-five minute to hour sermon. I especially like the worship, music is something that I consider a comfort and that usually comes fairly easy to me, but the sermon is definitely a bit more of a language challenge. Listening to an hour of liturgical and colloquial Spanish is definitely not easy, but it is something to work on, even while I sit there piecing together what I am understanding (from which I would say it is good preaching).

Classes are going well, I have two hours of class on Mondays and Fridays, and four on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. They are all an hour long, and for me they all end before 2:00 in the afternoon. Everyday there is a twenty minute break between the first two and second two periods of the morning. Mostly, we, the students, stay in the same classroom and the teachers come to us, which is kind of nice.
I got placed in level 5 (the highest) which is really exciting for me because I think it will provide an opportunity for me to really improve and polish my Spanish. I have a total of seven classes: Culture, Grammar, Spoken Expression, Literature (which seems to be more of a Literature History crash course rather than a course spending time in the literature itself), Spanish Art History, Geography, and History. I think one of the big things that stands out to me between the professors I really like and those that I feel shmmeh about is how they treat us students as learners of a second language. The really good ones realize that it's the Spanish we don't know, that it is the language we are lacking, not the knowledge or the capability to comprehend the topic. The others don't do a very good job of conveying that feeling, but more give the vibe that we are a bit incompetent, which isn't something that is very nice to feel. My grammar teacher is a very good example of this (on the good side), she recognizes our weakness in the language but doesn't assume us naive on the subject matter. Just today she asked us if we knew what a certain word was, and then followed it up with saying, "well, I'm sure you know what a ____ is, you probably just don't know the word in Spanish." She appreciates our intelligence and yet is still able to cater to our Spanish language handicap.

***

My roommate (the only other guy here from my school, just so you know) bought a basketball and some of our group got together and played a little. None of us are really that pro, but it was fun to hangout in a sort of productive way. Granted, we went and got Chocolate con Churros afterwards, but hey, a little b-ball exercise is better than no exercise, right? Also, our little adventure also included Jared (my aforementioned roommate) climbing up a tree, because of course.

Talking about being active, I have started running, and I fear I actually kind of enjoy it. I know, that sounds horrible, I'm not sure I even believe my words, running is supposed to be the bane of existence, and yet here I am picking it up as a hobby of sorts. It mainly came about because I was feeling a lack of physical activity in my life (at school I was always in dance classes and at home I would do a lot of Zumba) but I didn't want to have to pay for exercise. Since one of the girls in our group, Chelle (pronounced CHAY-yuh), is a bit of an avid runner, I figured I would try a run with her. It went well, so I went again by myself (which is when I posted my Facebook post about this), and seeing as that one when well, I went again. I have gone from being a non-runner to having run about twelve miles in the last five days. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! This, this is just so...foreign to me, but I'm really excited about the prospect of free, effective exercise that also allows me to tour the city and river fronts at the same time. I have also been throwing in a bit of Pilates, yoga, and stretching near the end of my runs to try to keep myself in dancing condition for next fall when I return to Point.

I've also had a bit of a cough these last few days. The odd thing, though, is that when I'm running or walking or doing any sort of cardio, the cough sort of puts itself on hold and doesn't bother me. There is probably some medical explanation for this, but I'm just glad for the short reprieve now and again.

***

So, some fun things about my host family. I was thankfully able to gracefully decline mushrooms, without offending or seeming snobbish (I think, but I would guess that snobbish people aren't very good at judging their own snobbishness, but I think I can trust myself on this one). You see, it went down like this:

The air was heavy laden with the delectable aromas from that night's dinner, prepared that evening by the lovely Señora for Dani and Miguel. As Dani's eyes feasted upon the glories of the harvest that had been set before him, his stomach was jealous to not yet be included. But not to worry, for a Spanish meal is always a hearty one, and most usually commences without delay. Crisp and fresh lettuce, a stove-top grilled hot dog, a steaming and succulent soup, and...wait, what is that perched upon the edge of this feast-laden platter? Be those 'shrooms of the earth, fungus steamed and seasoned, to be eaten? Be they meant for human consumption? But surely not, thinks Dani. Though upon further observation he notices they seem to be a rather enjoyed food by the locals and starts to ponder what this means, and how to politely respond with a declining of this "delicacy."
"May I ask, well, a, hmm, possibly strange question," asked Dani to the kindly Señora?
"Ask away," she responded.
"Would it be ok, if it is not of great importance to you, if I did not eat these fine fungi of the earth that have found themselves upon my plate, for it is that I do not particularly like mushrooms?"
"Why of course, if you don't like it, you don't like it," she reassured with gusto! "That is not a strange question at all, don't eat it if you don't like it. I love them, so don't bother yourself with something that you do not enjoy, I will enjoy them. Not a strange question at all."
Whew! that was a joyous collection of words that did meet with Dani's ears, to be fully acquitted of the need to eat his unwanted mushrooms, and without harming the sentiments of the dearest Señora and with his pride still intact. Oh what a joyous day! For a moment he had been worried that he might be told that mushrooms where not something to be disliked, that they were good for one's health, and that they were in fact not mushrooms at all. But look, what pleasure and contentment did fill both the stomach and mind of Dani that evening as he settled into bed and lay himself to sleep.

Also, it is probably noteworthy to mention that ever since Dani's first incident with fish in which he learned that sardines are not fish (see previous post if you are confused by this statement), the ever so wonderful Señora has lovingly prepared for Dani separate food when she had prepared fish for the rest of the family. And it as been much appreciated!

I also took a trip to the mall with my host parents. It was more of a "let's look around" type of shopping than a "let's buy things." Here are some things that stood out to me as interesting or that I learned on the excursion:

• They left the dog in the trunk (wha'!). I didn't even realize the dog was along for the ride until we were pulling into our parking spot and the trunk started barking at me. My host dad then went to walk the dog, Luca, around a bit while my host mother and I went ahead into the mall. I figured that he would leave Luca in the front of the car, but when we got back she was in the trunk. They just left their dog in the trunk....I don't even know.
• My host mother hates spiders, and will even freak out over a rubber one in the parking lot, even when she knows it is fake. I've never seen someone jump so high or squeaggle (a squeally giggle) so much over a piece of plastic they knew was plastic.
• My host parents have a very peculiar and yet hilarious relationship. They seem to always ignore each other, pay no heed to each others' request, and ignore the other's wishes. Yet they seem to genuinely love each other and are total a hoot when they are together. It is an interesting dynamic. They almost remind me more of bickering siblings or quibbling best friends than a married couple.
• In Spain you can get fresh-squeezed orange juice at IKEA for one euro. Bam! so good.

And finally, to wrap up, here are some observations on Spanish culture. Not all Spaniards take a siesta, though most do have a midday break that we Americans sometimes falsely label a "siesta." According to my culture professor there is a difference. I'm not sure how much you know about Spanish life, but here is a quick rundown on the average Spanish day: Breakfast between 8:00 and 9:00, then off to work; a break from about 14:00 to 16:00 or 15:00 and then back to work until 20:00~22:00, depending; come home for dinner around 21:30 or 22:00, a bit of evening relaxation, and then to bed. So this two, three hour break in the middle of the day isn't necessarily a siesta. It is really only considered a siesta if you get the chance to take a nap, which if you do it will probably only be for twenty or thirty minutes.

Spaniards also are known for their strong opinions (and this isn't just my opinion, my culture professor also confirmed this). It is said you could give a Spaniard any topic and they would form an opinion on it and hold their ground till the bitter end, regardless of if they actually know what they are talking about. My professor said, "you could ask me about astrophysics, a topic I know nothing about, and I would give you an opinion on it."

This has also given the impression to my roommate and me that our host parents think they know everything about the U.S. and that they have all the solutions for our problems. They seem to be very swayed by media and what they hear, and don't really check the facts or consult the counter arguments, but just blindly believe whatever suits their opinions. There is probably a cautionary tale in this...

They also really like to compare themselves to other european countries, especially when it comes to the more touchy or negative parts of their history where they see themselves failing less miserably than the others. For example, in history class our professor made sure we knew that the inquisition was actually worse in Germany and France than it was in Spain, or our host mom praised Spain's colonialism of the Americas in comparison to Britain's of India, saying that at least the Spaniards claimed their native-born children, while the British just abandoned theirs as bastard children to live on the streets. It seems, probably out of cultural pride, that they negate all the negatives by comparing them to a worse evil. They powder their own noses by pointing out how ugly their neighbor's is. It's made me think a bit about areas where maybe I do this with my own culture, life, community, country, history. It is a reminder to keep an open mind, not to wallow in and harp on all the evil of our own pasts, but at the same time not to allow such things to be overshadowed, forgotten, or dismissed. They play an important role in teaching us, rebuking us, and keeping us on a path towards progress and away from cowardice, foolishness, and tyranny. How often do we judge ourselves by the Better-Than Distance rather than the Missed-It-By-That-Much Distance (thanks John Fickett for the coining of these phrases)? I want to be more aware of that in my life in the future.

And here concludes this rambling writer, as he sets aside his quill and paper. I hope you enjoyed yourself here among my thoughts and that maybe you leave with a new thought or two, a different outlook, or a new portion of Spanish knowledge. Until next time,

Asher

Los Sardines No Son Pescado (Sardines Are Not Fish)

I didn't mean to lead any of you astray last time in making you think that I had come across some great scientific discovery that Sardines are not fish. It was merely a small anecdote that went down between my host mother and I that I thought carried a certain level of humor. Sorry to those of you who asked to know why Sardines truly are not fish. The sad news is, they are, but, well, apparently not everyone agrees with this statement. The story is as follows.

It all came about one fateful evening, soon after the daring adventurers Dani and Miguel had finally come to arrive, after much wandering and tribulation, safely in a small pueblo in the country.

(I'm dramatizing this a little to make it a little more interesting. In actuality, Valladolid is a decent sized city, not a small town, but something small and vulnerable like a country town just sounds more adventurous. Also, the trip to Valladolid from Madrid was actually rather uneventful, most everyone slept on the coach bus. Another point that needs addressing is this whole Dani and Miguel thing, which is a whole other story. Our host mother found it difficult to pronounce our names, Jared's and mine (Asher), as both of them have some rather Englishy sounds that are not found in Spanish. She had letters with our information (as we would be living with her) and found in them our full names—first, middle, and last. She then took it upon herself to designate to us easier names, selected from our middle names. Seeing as I have the middle name Daniel, a traditional Spanish name, I became known henceforth by my host parents as Dani/Daniel. Jared, who's middle name is Mitchel, was proclaimed to be Miguel, what they decided was the Spanish equivalent (though really Miguel is Michael, not Mitchel, but close enough, right? Anyway, back to the story).

Where was I...Yes, our heroes had just arrived in the pueblo, and a wonderful, caring family had taken them in for a time, to help them rejuvenate and rest from the flurry of their chaotic travels. That evening they were having a wonderful, home-cooked meal that would have fancied the palate of even the most prestigious and persnickety of elegant eaters. But alas, what is this that causes Dani to distraught, but that these people actually enjoy the flavors of Poseidon's table. Lo! upon the salad is set the meat of some few sardines, a tragedy in the mind of Dani, to pollute such a succulent dish of lettuce with the flesh of the sea. But, understanding the locals' appreciation for such a peculiar flavor, Dani requested not to be served what he knew they would enjoy (and what he would not) upon the basis that he did not really like fish. Yet, there did fall from the mouth of the kindly Señora such curious words that had no rivals upon the ears of Dani, for never before had he heard such a telling. For she did proclaim that sardines are not fish.
"No, no, Sardines are not fish," she said. "These are very rich, yes, quite delicious. They aren't fish, these sardines are wonderful and good for your health, eat them, they are very good for you. No, they are fish, they are good."
Certainly confused, and yet not lacking a certain amount of amusement at this proclamation, Daniel ate the salad of fish-that-are-not-fish and did ponder that evening much over the words of the Señora. How could it be that sardines are not fish? The best conclusion that he arrived at was that this fine Señora was only trying to convey, albeit in a rather curious way, that she meant him to eat the sardines since they were not of the fashion of a traditional fish preparation, and, as she saw it, rather scrumptious. But alas, be it true or nay, henceforth it shall be known that sardines are not always categorized as one of Poseidon's kin, nor of his table, nor of his domain. And upon this idea will dwell Dani for some time yet, as his adventures he continues.

Hopefully now you understand what is meant by my saying that sardines are not fish, sorry for any confusion I may have caused with that statement. I hope that you enjoyed your adventures with Dani and Miguel and that they will continue to pleasure you in the future (I'm writing that as much to myself as to you, for I hope to maybe bring them back in some stories along the way).

***

That covers the main topic of which I wanted to speak this week, but I have some other (hopefully) short observations and things to recount.

Above, when I wrote "a whole other story," I really wanted to write "a whole nother story." But the things is, this is something we say but not something that is grammatically correct. Why is that, does it come from saying "another story," and we just inserted the "whole" in the middle of the word, like "a-whole-nother" story. Sort of like saying, incon-freakin'-ceivable? I honestly have no clue, I just thought it was worth throwing out there. And I invite you to comment or express your thoughts to me, I'd love to hear your opinions. Or maybe you don't say "nother" to begin with and you think I am just crazy, feel free to say that too if you like.

Another thing about words, I am not very good at using them sparingly, especially in my writing. So writing the above synopsis of my blog (at the top of the page, the header under the title), which could only be 500 characters, was rather difficult for me. I mean, ONLY FIVE-HUNDRED CHARACTERS!! What is this, a rationed communist society that I should only get so many letters and spaces?! I live in free America, let me use my words! Well, I guess I am actually in Spain right now, but come on, free western society! Am I right or am I right?! Anyway, I feel I actually ended up whittling it down pretty well (after much deliberation and time), so *hint-hint* you can check it out if you like.

Again, to the story above of our daring heroes, in reference to the dearest Señora. Once we got placed in our host families we received a family bio about who with and where we would be living, such as locale, internet access, family members, etc. Well, that of my host mom said that she was single and had no pets, neither of which turned out to be true. She is married, to a very friendly, if not mumbly, Señor, and she has a little terrier Luca, who she seems to have had for seven years. Not really sure why there seems to be such a contradiction, but so it is.

The school here hosted a welcome dinner at a local restaurant for all the students studying Spanish here at the University de Valladolid (UVa) (which is pronounced OO-vah, with a B-ized V). Most everyone sat with the group they came with, but I decided to make a venture and sit where I wasn't known and with those I didn't know. I ended up sitting with some very wonderful Japanese students who have been here since September and are studying the whole year here. It was so cool that neither of us spoke the other's language and yet we able to communicate on the basis of our common middle ground—Spanish. It was also interesting to hear others' opinions, such as those of the Japanese, of Americans. According to them, many Americans come in saying, "oh, well, I don't really drink that much," and then drink like they're bottle-count is somehow inversely proportional to the minutes left until dawn. Or that American's are often times here in Europe more for the party and night life than they are for the study and cultural experience. This is a point on which I can definitely see where they are coming from, as I have observed among some of the Americans here a zeal to go out and party where there is little to study. There are definitely those who have found a balance, but it is interesting to me how little Spanish some people know or how little they seem to try to use it, and yet they chose to pay to come to Spain to speak, listen to, and learn the language. For now it is a preliminary observation, but it struck me as a bit odd.

One other thing, it came to me to think of what my ideal day would look like. I have no idea why, but for some reason I thought, what would my ideal day include? That got me to thinking, and I thought I would share with you what I have so far. So here is Asher's Ideal Day

My Ideal Day

-Warmth—I would like to be the perfect temperature for just one complete day. Not to cold, not to hot, but just right for once.

-Sunshine—good weather is such a must for any ideal day.

-Friends—it would definitely include quality time with quality friends.

-Good Music—this could be in the form of listening to it, making it, singing or playing it. But one way or another it would play a part in my ideal day.

-Message, Chiropractor, and Acupuncture—I have never had acupuncture, but I feel like I would love it. So this day would include a wondrous message and relaxation, some spinal alignment from a chiropractor, and a muscle-relaxing, tenseness-releasing acupuncture session.

-Sleep—or at least, if I didn't sleep during this special day, I would like to feel well-rested

-A Great New Book—I would discover and make significant progress into a new book that I just happened to love.

There it is, what do you think of my ideal day? Is there something you would add or take away? Something you think I would like or you think I might have forgotten? Let me know, I want to make sure I perfect my perfect day in case it should ever come to fruition :) Or let me know what your ideal day looks like, maybe it would be very different from mine.

Well, I hope you have enjoyed your stay here amongst my words, and I hope you come back sometimes and lose yourself again in my ramblings. I know, there aren't any pictures, but I'll use that to lure you back, because I can promise you that next time I'll include some pictures of my new home here in Valladolid.

With much joy and love to you all,

Asher

Arrival Into a Foreign Familiarity

It's very interesting to be returning to a place that is so unfamiliar and yet so familiar at the same time. Yes, I have spent time in Spain before, and I have spent time studying the language, but something such as a second culture (different from that which one grew up with) seems like it will always feel foreign. Ok, this is coming from someone who has spent minimal time in a second culture, less than a year overall, but with what little hindsight I do have and my very near-sighted look into the future I find it hard to imagine anything ever feeling as comfortable as what I first knew, or to even reach a place of it no longer feeling foreign to me. But alas, is that not why I'm here, to learn more, assimilate more, to lessen the unfamiliarity? So let us embark.

Our flight and travels into Madrid was like any group trip: a shuffle of suitcases, a collection of confusions, a set of different via-point destinations—the flurry of things a bit amplified by the over-seas distance and foreign destination. By the time I went to sleep on that first night in Spain (we flew out of Chicago the evening of the 1st of January and arrived the morning of the 2nd in Madrid) I had been awake for twenty-nine hours. Regardless, I feel like the jet lag has not gotten to me as much as it did last time, as I feel I've been rather functional. This could be, in part, due to the fact that after a semester of dance at UWSP I'm probably a bit more fit and healthy than I was last time I was here. Not that I was particularly unhealthy before, but I feel that my fatigue rate has gone down considerably and my body is better equipped to recuperate. The tricky thing will be to keep myself at this level of fitness while abroad, it is a dilemma I have yet to solve (though I am looking into Zumba classes and some other possibilities here in Valladolid).

***

I'm having trouble writing this (I've had the above paragraphs written for about two or three days now), but I'm scared of making it too long, but I need to just buckle down and type this thing out. Hopefully it won't end up a novelette.

***

Our first day in Madrid started off with getting picked up at the airport by Sandra, who accompanied us on all our adventures during our stay in Madrid. She is a very wonderful person with tons of energy, great patience, good English and even better Spanish, and an all-around fun person to have as a tour guide. We all loved her very much and were sad to say goodbye when the time came.

Upon getting picked up at the airpot, we had a short bus tour of Madrid "on our way" to the hotel. (These photos were taken from inside the bus, so there is some reflection and green tint, but enjoy la riqueza of Madrid)

Plaza de los Toros, Spain's most important bull fighting arena. It is interesting to me that I have yet to meet a Spaniard that condones bull fighting, it is sort of condemned as inhumane these days and seems to be kept alive largely just because of tradition.

La Puerta de Alcalá, one of the city's old main "gates"

The front of the Prado Museum, a treasure trove of rich art and beautiful things, more on that later.

A grand building, not sure what it is specifically, but I think it has something to do with some sort of department of communication, such as mail, television, and radio—not really sure.

The U.S. Embassy in Madrid

Me in front of El Palacio Real (the Royal Palace) in Madrid. (Thanks Gabe and Nelly for the awesome blue jacket, it is going to make quite the stellar appearance in a lot of photos).

A courtyard in el Palacio Real

A statue in el Palacio Real

Look how cool this little contraption is from our hotel. You can't turn on the lights without putting your card in it first. So when you leave the room it both reminds you to save energy and turn of lights, and it turns them all off for you by just simply removing it.

Also, this trip I didn't bring an actual camera, so you get the photos from my phone. They're not bad, but they're also not great, and there will probably be fewer of them than when I had a camera hanging around my neck. I've also noticed that without a camera always at my beck and call I tend to notice more detail, grandeur, and workmanship of what is around me, rather than just looking for the next snapshot or well-captured photo.

***

Something I find very interesting in all of the architecture and art of Spain, having been a "Catholic" country, is the mixture of biblical stories and Greek and Roman mythologies. Here you have Zues next to Hermes next to Adam and Eve next to Artemis and Apollo next to Jesus and Mary. I think these sort of things stood out to me especially because I know both, both the biblical and the mythological (from my readings of the Percy Jackson Series, very good books), so the contrast and mixture of the two is really prevalent to me. Overall, though, what stands out to me the most is the Catholics glorification of Mary, seemingly even more so than of Jesus. It is something that for me, as a non-catholic Christian, view as peculiar. Is it not Christ who died for my sins? Mary did no more than any of the others who followed God's will for their lives and who allowed his work to be done through them, and yet here she is, crowned as the queen of heaven.

Their is a certain convenience to all this, and that is that it shares the bible story for me, in one or another. Either the tour guide explains a biblical story portrayed in a painting, or someone asks me what is going on with this or that representation or art piece, or I am asked what I believe in contrast or similarity to all this Catholic tradition that we see so much of here is Spain. It is handed to me on a silver platter, and all I have to do is answer questions or point something out, without getting in anyone's face or making it seemed forced. Thank God for a tourist's curiosity.

***

Something that I am reminded of here is Spain, seeing all these old buildings and art and things, is just how much I love woodwork. There is just something so beautiful in its serenity, shine, and its ability to be either complexly simple or have a simple complexity. I think it might be my favorite medium. There was this one room in el Palacio Real that especially stood out to me. It was done in a Chinese style that was popular at the time (I think it was the 18th century if I remember right) with gorgeous vine work all over the walls and ceiling, in plaster and porcelain I believe, with these incredibly gorgeous, large, wooden-framed mirrors. It just had such a regal, wild, free, and natural feel to it, I wanted to stay in the room for a week just taking in all the details.

***

Our second day in Spain we took a day tour to Toledo, the old capital of Spain and a city very diverse in its history, with influences from the Muslims, Jews, and Catholics. The city is full of the sacred buildings and artifacts of all three religions, the largest being the grand Cathedral of Toledo, in the center of the city. Our tour guide reverenced over and over again how the different things had been built, torn down, or changed not so much because of religious reasons, but because of power. If the rulers could "unify" the people under one primary religion, could display that power, and maintain that collective belief, they had total power. This was something I hadn't really ever thought much of before, but it is some interesting food for thought. With this history and mindset it makes sense that people could be fed up with religions always vying for "power" in the lives of people and their world.

Also, being such an old city, Toledo has very small streets, as you will see in some of the following photos. I loved what our guide said, "one person and one car create a traffic jam in Toledo."

Our group at a vista point overlooking the city

Toledo is known for its smithery and work with  precious metals. Here, a master goldsmith is inlaying gold into steal.

Here are some examples of finished products. The top three of from masters, the middle three are from teachers and students (I think, if I understood right), and the last two are machine made.

Of course I have to pose with a sword from the city known for its swordsmanship.

The grandiose cathedral of Toledo

A ceiling in the cathedral that I especially liked.

Unfortunately I don't have any great photos of this ceiling, but I  had to post a picture of it anyway because of how impressive it is. This is on the ceiling of one of the rooms in the Toledo Cathedral, and I wish I could remember the name of the Italian painter who did it. He used both hands at the same time and completed the whole thing in just four months.

A less blurry photo of a section of the ceiling.

A old roman road that was dug up in Toledo. Roman. Guys, that's two millennia ago! Wow, how time flies.

Me, if you couldn't tell :)

I believe it was this wall that the tour guide said the Muslims built around the Jewish quarters to protect the Jews from the Christians. Interesting to think how relations change through the ages.

Me again, on one of the bridges leading into/out of the city.

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What I'm about to say is probably something that could get me deported, but here I go. Paella isn't really my favorite. I like it well enough, but I think I could do without it. I know, I know, it is everyone's favorite Spanish dish, but for me it isn't really all that spectacular. I think one problem is that the most traditional paella is a seafood paella, and I do not really like seafood, like, at all.

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We got to see a flamenco show one of our nights in Madrid. I discovered that pretty much everything I thought about flamenco going into it was not at all true. I hadn't realized that traditional flamenco is actually pretty bare, no frilly, long, twirly dresses, no partner dancing, mostly just solo dancing (though with a little group dancing at times), and a whole lot of fancy stomping. It was a fast-pased mixture of tap, river dance, clogging, and I'm not really sure what else. It was really cool to see.

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On our last day in Madrid we toured the Prado Museum, which was probably one of my favorite places we visited. Not only did I not get to visit it last time I was here, but it is a place where history is embodied through art, a collection of some of the greatest works of art, depicting some of histories greatest (and sometimes not so greatest) moments. I loved the Valasquez pieces, and I particularly loved Tintoretto's El Lavatorio, which depicts Christ washing the disciples feet. It is this long canvas, with Jesus, the disciples and a table in the foreground, and a large stone gate and a pond in the background that as one walks up to it looks like it is off in the distance. But as you walk up to it and along the painting, the view shifts, and lo and behold the the viewer is now in line with the distant gate. I'm probably doing a horrible job of describing it, but it is incredible that the perspective changes with the change of position of the viewer. That, to me, is impressive for any painting, but especially for this one from the sixteenth century. I wanted to take a video of me walking past it so you could get an idea of what I am talking about, but no photos or videos are allowed in the Prado.

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Here are some other random photos from our five-day entry tour in Madrid.

The Palacio Real as seen from the royal gardens.

An Egyptian temple, in the middle of Madrid. Long story short, Egypt decides to build a damn, this will cause flooding which is not good for old artifacts, the rest of Europe steps in and brings said artifacts back to its own cities. Cool to see it again.

One of our group dinners.

El Palacio de Cristal (the glass palace) in Retiro park (more or less Madrid's Central Park).

Me riding a statue in Retiro, another reason I will probably be deported.

Look there are three of me :)

Circulo de Bellas Artes, a terrace on top of one of the buildings in Madrid that you can pay to go up, and they have a vantage point over the city.

My stuff in the hotel room, before I packed (stuffed) it all back up to come to Valladolid.

Me with out tour leader/guid, Sandra :)

Also, I got to see some of my friends from last time, but not many. I want to plan a weekend trip down to the Madrid area when I can see more people.

I would say that with that, I will wrap up this post. I hope to write again soon and tell you all about how sardines are not fish. I bet you can't wait.

Hasta luego,

Asher