Apple Juice

15 gentlemen. 3 days. Nearly 300 bottles of apple cider.

Last Friday was Father’s Day in Spain, a national holiday which gives everyone the day off of work and thus a three-day weekend. In order to take advantage of this, two American friends of mine, Matt Walsh and David McCoy, along with Matt’s American roommate Tom from Maine, and 11 of their Spanish friends decided to go to Gijón.

Gijón is a coastal city in the north of Spain located in the Asturius region and is famous for its apple cider, beaches, and partying all night in the streets and plazas. While drinking outside of bars is frowned upon and even against the law in some parts of the country, it is almost a necessity in Gijón because of the fashion in which one drinks the cider. You see, you have to pour about a sip’s worth at a time from the bottle into a glass from holding the bottle above your head, making for about a two and a half foot pour. This will ultimately result in missing the glass at times (especially as the night carries on), so it makes since that it’s encouraged to be drank in the streets instead of the bars.

After a successful Thursday night of introductions to both Matt’s Spanish friends and the cider culture, we hit a bit of a speed bump on Friday morning. You see, Matt and Tom, who teach English in Segovia, have expired visas and had forgotten their passports at home. In hostels, it is standard procedure for everyone checking in to produce an international ID of some sort if you are not a citizen of that particular country. When Matt and Tom had no proper documentation, the police were informed about their illegal status and brought them to the station. However, given that Spain is in a financial crisis and didn’t want to pay for their deportation, they were told that they have 2 weeks to return back to the States. Fortunately, they were released and thus able to spend the rest of the weekend with us.

The weather in Gijón was fantastic, it was actually the first time since I arrived in Spain that wearing a jacket wasn’t necessary, and the warm sun was definitely welcomed. Gijón is supposed to have a really nice beach, but I wouldn’t know, because we never made it there. Instead, we decided to take advantage of the friendly and vibrant culture by hanging out in the streets and plazas all day with boxes full of bottles of cider with guitars and harmonicas in hand, singing songs and striking up conversations with the locals (especially the women, who are beautiful in Asturias).

Each day followed a similar routine: wake up around 1:30, eat lunch, start drinking around 3:00, play music and make up songs, and ultimately bar/club hop until about 5 am. This went on for three days and I must say it was one of the wildest and best weekends I have experienced in a long time. Now begins the countdown to Prague and Vienna for Easter.

Pics will be posted promptly

Civil Rights and Tasty Baby Lamb

As an appropriate follow-up to last week’s insight into the celebratory mentality of the Spanish population, a couple days ago was a national holiday for celebrating women in the workplace. I’m down with that; all of the female teachers got flowers, we all got pastries during break, and I got to say “congratulations” all day to each of them which is always a psychological mood-booster on a bitterly cold Monday.
Anyway, being that it was day for women to unite as one and celebrate their social status in the modern-day business world, the female teachers at my school all decided to go to lunch at the best restaurant in Autol. That is to say, among the best restaurants in the world. If all of the women were dining together in a non-male environment, then what did the men do for lunch, do you ask?

Well actually, we decided to have our own special lunch party, for men only. Good news: the principal of my school is a man, who happens to have a bodega (wine cellar) underneath his house. And when I say bodega, please don’t picture a modest little room. This was a two-century year old “man’s room” full of art, cultural antiques, local liquors and more bottles of wine you could imagine. The one room had more floor space than the Rent House.

So the 9 of us guys cracked open two, 2-liter crianza (aged) bottles of wine made in my principal’s village; it was one of the best wines I have had since arriving to Spain. Main course: grilled cordero-baby lamb, it wasn’t exactly terrible. Oh yeah, and this was followed by a round of shots of herbal liquor which it touted as being very good for the digestive process. We would have loved to continue with the lunch party, but we did still have two more hours of school to teach so we needed to get back to Autol.

Festival Fever

One of the great things about Spain is that the Spanish love to celebrate and have a good time. They will go to just about any length to find any excuse to party. As a whole Spanish people, despite their religious past (Inquisition, anyone?) are not very religious. In fact, I don’t think I have met one Spaniard in six months who claims to be a stern Catholic or even a religious individual in general. This has led me to conclude that in Spain, people don’t like to practice religion as much as they like to celebrate it.

By this, I mean that Spain has many festivals with traditional religious roots but currently carry very little religious significance; rather, it is an excuse to have a party. Think about the images that come into your mind when you imagine San Fermines, the biggest festival in Pamplona. This festival was originally meant to celebrate Saint Fermine, but has virtually turned into a week of debauchery for locals and international travelers alike, who only practice drinking wine all day and running away from bulls opposed to practicing creed. The fact is, the festival of San Fermine is just a macrocosm of what occurs throughout the country during the spring and summer.

Every city, town, and village, no matter how large or small, has at least two festivals every year. In fact, the town where I live, Autol, home to only roughly 4,000 habitants, enjoys three festivals annually (keep in mind that all local festivals involve bulls-whether it be bull runs or bull fights). And don’t begin to think that the series of local festivals occur at random; on the contrary they are very well coordinated to the extent that in a given region the festivals rarely overlap, but instead occur virtually every weekend for several months. That is to say, if one were so inclined one could attend a different festival in a different city/village/town every weekend for roughly 6 months out of the year.

This past weekend was the festival in Calahorra, a nearby town of about 20,000 people. I was fortunate enough to be invited to a show at the plaza de toros (bull ring) by some locals related to my landlords. I had seen a corrida in Pamplona last year, the well-known event where the bulls are killed by a matador with a sword, but this event was much different. It was not a 'bull fight' where they slay the bulls, but rather a competition among younger, less experienced toreros, men ranging from the ages of 18-26 or so. The way it works is that there are 12 teams of 2 people. One pair at a time, the toreros enter the bullring with only small silver rings in hand (no sword or spear). Once the bull is released, the pair has 3 minutes to try to put as many silvers rings on the horns of the bull as possible. This means getting very, very close to horns. One pair, comprising of a 19 year old and a 21 year old was unfortunate enough to get the rowdiest bull, who in only 3 minutes broke both arms of one contestant and the wrist of his partner, by slamming them into the wall. It was good fun.

Anyway, the point is, festival season has arrived in Spain and I’m loving it.

In other news, my friend David and I are planning a trip to Prague and Vienna for Easter week because we have a 10-day vacation. It should be a really good time, Prague is supposed to be a lot of fun and very cheap while Vienna is said to be among the most beautiful cities in the world. Also, Nick Shirley, who is living in Austria with his wife and teaching English like myself, is planning on meeting us in Vienna and showing us around. It’s a small world huh?

Festival de San Blas

So this past weekend was a festival in Autol. There are several festivals in each of the Spanish cities and towns; in fact Autol, a village of 4,000, has 3 annually. Being used to a festival scene like Mardi Gras, I really wasn’t sure what to expect at first.
Friday night I figured I would take it easy. My friends Kelly, Martyna and Tom (from Canada, Canada and England, respectively) were planning on coming to Autol on Saturday, so I thought I ought to save my energy. My plan backfired.
I ended up going to a local bar around 10 to have a few drinks, however when I arrived and went to hang my coat up, someone in between me and the hanger offered to hang it for me. He looked like someone I knew, so I asked him what he was drinking, as to order him something when I went to the bar. Almost as soon as I realized that I had mistaken him for someone else, he thanked me and bought my drink, saying he had heard of the American who was living in his town. I soon noticed that his friends were friends of mine from Autol and they all invited me to their “Casa Blanca” for dinner. Although I had already eaten, I decided I shouldn’t pass the invitation up and told them I was down.
So they took me to this old mushroom factory on a hill on the outside of town, which provided a great view of Autol from above. Next to the factory is a house that about 15 friends have renovated and converted into somewhat of a ‘Rent House’, like Eddie’s. We bbq'd and drank til about 5 am, when someone that had to go back to Autol to work at a bar (because bars during festivals don’t close til about 9am) offered to give me a lift back.
The next morning I slept through the encierro (bull run) at noon, only to wake up at 3:30 and go to a bar for a coffee at 4:20 before the run at 5:00. I happened to run into a local who I know and he invited me to his home for the encierro because his house is actually situated in the main street of the run and the view is great. I wasn’t about to say no to the offer, however it made me feel obligated not to say no to the gin and beer he offered me to drink before and during the encierro, out of politeness, of course. It was very entertaining; I’ll post pics and vids soon.
So after the run, around 6:00, my friends from Calahorra arrived. And then the real party began. After a couple of bars we went back to my place and I treated them to burgers before heading out on the town. It was a fun night, ranging from chatting amongst ourselves at quiet pubs to being swarmed in bars (being the only foreigners in town) to dancing to horn bands in the street at 5am with my students and adults ranging from 30 to 70. We didn’t go to sleep til about 6:30. It was a blast.
However, the next night was the Superbowl, so I pulled another all-nighter in order to watch the game (which didn’t start til 1am in Spain) even though I had to go to school at 8am Monday morning. Needless to say, it wasn’t hard to stay awake. Congrats to the Saints, their fans, and LA. I wish I could have been there in person, but I was there in spirit.
Anyway, I have no plans of slowing down. This weekend is Carnival in Spain, just like it is Carnival in LA next week. So tomorrow I am going to Calahorra to find a costume and prepare myself for another weekend of mayhem.

Even People in Autol are Pulling for the Saints

I have been pretty busy lately. Not so much in the sense of traveling and such; I haven’t really traveled since Christmas with my family. I have, however, been working a lot this month. I now have 10 private lessons per week and I teach Monday-Thursday til 8:30. On top of that, I am teaching a 2-hr class to 14 professors at my school every Tuesday, which takes a lot of planning.

I’m not complaining, I enjoy teaching and the extra cash will be nice when the summer rolls around. Besides, the Saints are going to the Superbowl. How blissfully sweet is that?

When I was younger, every time I bought a Saints jersey that particular player would always end up getting hurt, traded, or come down with Hodgkin’s Disease (Mark Fields). It was so bad that I began to respect the advice given to me by my friends and family and stopped buying jerseys. I’m not kidding. Well, had I known that all I needed to do was leave the continent of North America in order for the Saints to have unprecedented success, I would not have waited 22 years to do so. For this, I apologize. I was actually able to watch most of the game, save the 3^rd quarter when my internet cut out. At least I got to chat with Rob, Eddie, Louise, Niall and David at halftime. That was pretty surreal and awesome.

Anyway, I cannot stand to be stagnating for too long, so I have several journeysplanned for February. Next week, on the 3^rd of the month, is a festival in Autol and we have a couple days off school. This little town will even have an encierro (bull run-but with big cows with horns, bulls are only at San Fermin). The following weekend I have loose plans to meet a friend of mine, Patricia, who I met in Grenada, and my friend David in Toledo. On the 19^th I plan on going skiing in a town called Formigal, which is in the Pyrenees near to France with my friends Tom, Kelly and Martyna who are from England, Canada and Poland, respectively.

If anyone (skip) knows any good international streaming websites where I could catch the Superbowl, that would be great if you could send them my way…

Download:Beach House:Teen Dream

Jingle Bells (C)Rock

So I heard from Kenny a few hours ago that my family has returned safely to the United States. I am grateful they made it back without any problems, delays, cancellations or radical Nigerian terrorists; God knows they did not have such luck on their voyage to my side of the pond. While no one had attempted to thwart their flight via complicated syringe-bombs, they did have to deal with several delays, a canceled flight, and to top it all off, the airline lost their luggage. Despite the difficulty they faced in order to get to Spain, once they arrived everything got exponentially better.

Given the fact that they missed a flight, we decided to head straight to Autol, my town, immediately instead of spending one evening Logroño. Our timing could not have been better, however, because before we even stepped foot into my apartment we were cheerfully greeted in the hallway by my landlord and his children with their families. It just so happened to be his wife’s birthday and they were preparing a massive lunch celebration. Of course we were invited.
So before my family could soak in my new hometown or even shower, they were tossed into the ridiculous and overwhelming tornado shit-show that is the Spanish birthday lunch. I was fortunate enough to know what to expect. I was fully aware that we were to be presented with numerous appetizers, a variety of main courses and, most certainly, countless desserts. Did I mention that it was Christmas Eve? That means that in addition to each of the visitors bringing a desert from home, which they of course would because they are going to a birthday lunch, these women have been preparing sweets for Christmas-they were most likely pulling baked goodies out of the oven earlier that afternoon.

While I was confident that the lunch to go down in this manner, my family was not prepared to say the least.

In addition to surely feeling a little out of place, being in a Spanish family’s home just after meeting them for a big birthday fiesta and not speaking the language and all, Kenny, Virg and Clay were immediately bombarded with foreign and exotic food. We literally sat down and ate for about a 3 hours. The next day my dad recounted what we ate and we realized that in a 24 hour period we had literally eaten more than 10 different kinds of animals. Afterward we decided to walk it off, so I showed them my town. I took them by the school and into the old part of Autol, where we ran into some of my students. I then took them to Picuezo Park, which is still beautiful to me. That evening-after the necessary siesta-I took them bar hopping, which of course is customary on Christmas Eve in Spain. We had a really good time, I got to show them my favorite watering holes and they were constantly being greeted and welcomed by the locals, who were openly enthusiastic about the quadrupling of Americans in Autol as well as intrigued by the similarities between Clay and I.

On Christmas morning I gave them some presents (mine were still in their luggage, probably in Amsterdam). I had got my dad an authentic bota-the traditional cow skin sack you drink wine out of. Rob has one. This bota, however, was made by hand by an old man who has been doing it for decades and lives in a small nearby town of about 2000 people named Quel. I had bought my mom a Palestinian-style scarf in Granada along with an olive oil pourer. For Clay, a small bota covered in bull hair and an Islamic proverb painting I had found in Granada. That afternoon I cooked them lunch, which was quite tasty, and then we joined Carlos (my landlord) and his family in their bodega for drinks and desert.

The next morning we set off for Pamplona, which brought back cool memories for me since I was there last summer for the San Fermin Festival. I even walked them along the route of the bull run, which was a cool experience. We later had drinks and pinchos at Tkoko, a bar that Ernest Hemingway used to frequently visit.

Our last stop was San Sebastian for two nights. We could not have picked a better place to end the trip; I am fairly certain that San Sebastian is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is a centuries-old port city with some of the most stunning beaches in Europe and, given the amount of wealth that exists in the city, the architecture is fancy and excellent. Words to not do San Sebastian justice, so pictures will be posted on Facebook soon (for family, I will e-mail my parents the pictures and have them send them out to everyone). Moreover, let us not leave out the fact that this wonderful city is also one of the culinary capitals in the world. For the past 5 years 2 restaurants in San Sebastian have been listed in the top ten restaurants in the world-food is an art to these people. And given that it is a city with a pinchos culture, we were able to try just about anything we wanted. (Again, a ‘pincho’ is a small, individual serving of food that you get for about 1-2 euro, many bars have as many as 15 out on display for you to choose from). In fact, there really isn’t anything not to like about San Sebastian, unless you have something against beauty, seafood, or funny hats.

All in all, my family and I had a really good time together. It had been the longest we had ever spent apart, and the fact that we got to experience Christmas from a different perspective in Spain made it more unique and special.

By the way, Kenny, Virg, and Clay still do not have their luggage, I just hope the airline wasn’t trying to send it back to Lafayette via Detroit on Christmas Day.
Hope everyone had a good Christmas and has a Happy New Years

Homemade Wine and White Roads

Aside from teaching at the local school I also teach private English lessons, that is how I make extra money for traveling and spending; I have 12 students. Among those 12 students 2 are from Georgia (not as in Atlanta). Their parents immigrated to Spain about 5 years ago in search of better financial opportunities. As as result, both kids-one named Jamal who is 11 and the other Saba who is 7-already speak 2 languages, Georgian and Spanish. However, their parents understand that learning English will drastically help their chances at making it in the world, so they hired me. They are super-friendly and each time I go to their home, they give me a cup of coffee and homemade cookies/bread/whatever. This past week I was chatting with their father (who I have only met twice in the past month of teaching his children because he usually works late) and he informed me that he has been upholding the Georgian custom of making homemade wine. He takes discarded or leftover grapes from the factory he works at and makes wine out of them. He proved this to me by showing me the 20-or-so 5-gallon jugs of wine in his storage room. The father proceeded to fill an old 2-liter coke bottle with wine telling me that if I ever were to run out, the family would provide me with free wine, in addition to the money they pay me to teach their children English...yuss

In other news, Spain is freezing over. A couple days ago, it snowed here in Autol, a rarity but something that is manifesting itself throughout the country. In fact, this weekend it is supposed to drop to about 10 degrees F. The snow makes the town take on a completely different appearance and the constant dodging of snowballs thrown by my students adds some adventure to my life.

Finally, my family will be arriving in Spain on Tuesday to spend Christmas with me...I am super excited about that.

pics from granada have been posted on facebook