We had lunch with a friend and had this great place to watch these fireworks. They are in connection with a holiday honoring Mary, Jesus’s mom.
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Notes from Santiago de Compostela
Santiago (St. James) was one of the original cast of 12, not the James referred to as the brother of Jesus in Mark. The story goes that James, whose martyrdom is the only one recorded in the NT, was executed by sword. Afterwards his body was delivered by a stone ship (or row boat- I read that somewhere) to the place now bearing his name, Santiago de Compostela. The pilgrimage to the cathedral is among the most if not the most popular pilgrimage for Western European Catholics, starting in the early middle ages. In 2008 125,000 pilgrims claim to have completed the final 100 km of the trail.
A few drawings from the trip:
https://plus.google.com/photos/101879261292066437674/albums/5867412943039029489
Photos from the trip:
https://plus.google.com/photos/111993279450383941292/albums/5866611483355349585
This small city is in Galicia, in the northwest corner of the Iberian peninsula, where the rain in Spain falls plainly too much. As of this day, the 11 of April 2013, it has rained at least part of each day for the last 38 days in a row and significantly at that, I take it. My unimpeachable source, the waiter at a cafe, would not have said so unless it were true. After all he served very good and generous free tapas with our drink. Impeccable logic, no? As it turns out, this generosity is the norm here, but I digress from my misery.
Yesterday when we visited the fabulous Cathedral we had to pass through the vast plaza. The wind blew rain into our faces and made our umbrellas totally useless. I’d imagine that the Cathedral was worth it without doubt if I were on a religious trek of some sort. This is not the case. I am here because I’ve been here before and wanted to see it again.
This turned out to be a good thing. It was not at all how I remembered it, which is as a Gothic structure. It is Romanesque, at least the Cathedral itself as originally crafted, but there are Gothic, Baroque and who knows what in the various sections and the connected and surrounding structures are probably another story.
For more info on the legend of Santiago see the wiki, which I deem to be reliable, having just mentioned how generous the tapas are here, which is proof positive that the wiki is indeed reliable. More impeccable logic.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_James_the_Great
This legend itself is of course entirely true, having been told by some waiter or waitress in the region at some place and some time.
While in the cathedral we climbed the passage which takes you behind the statue of Santiago his own self. Millions of visitors have filed past over the centuries and of course if you touch it you get some special deal from the padre upstairs via James- what would expect from someone whose body was transported in a stone ship? So of course we were treated to the sight of a woman rubbing rosary beads on the glowing shiny gold icony thing. She took each one out, rubbed it on the gold, kissing each one before returning it to her now magic plastic bag. She mumbled something to us, I suppose a word of explanation as in, “I prayed to Santiago and he petitioned the Lawd successfully.” Or perhaps she was about to engage James in yet another mission to the almighty.
After a day and half of rain we finally got a break and went around to the market, composed of plump looking stone structures which unfortunately we did not photo. Besides the charming look of the small buildings laden with local produce, I noted two things. One- they eat brocoletti here (aka brocoli rabe as it is called in the US). Apparently the cool rainy climate if perfect for this, my favorite of veggies. Second, there is at least one restaurant that takes your purchase and cook it for you. They provide the veggies and beverages for 3 euros a head plus 10% of the cost of your purchase. Pretty neat idea.
On the Friday we took the bus south to Muros and Noia. Both are on the coast, which in this area is as far west as you can get in Europe. You are due south of Ireland! So far west you can just see the top of the Empire State Building. Noia has an old area which I did not see in its entirety as I spent the time sketching an old church tower from the garden in front. Muros is a lot more interesting, as the seafront is developed, unlike that part of Noia and besides ‘A Noia” which means ‘To Noia” which is how the ticket seller phrased it, sounds an awful lot like “Annoy” with a terminal aspiration (the ‘a’).
In Murose we had a mighty fine lunch. I did not have any seafood- I know, what was I thinking?- but I did have a delightfully tasting but excessively fatty ‘churasco’- the charred flavor from the barby was truly a delight. Peg had some cod- bacalao- that was good and Susan had some gigantic shrimpy things that they call langostinos but really what’s the difference between them and big shrimp? They were grilled with garlic oil and were super. We had a bottle of white Rebeiro, the famous wine of the region, or I think so as the bottle came already corked.
Speaking of wine bottles already corked, on our first night in Santiago de Compostela we had dinner in the cheapest place we could find. It was 7 euros for the menu- a menu being the the 3-4 course meal of the day. 7 is mighty cheap, especially considering we were in the most expensive part of town where a seafood dinner for two was 38 euros, about $50, plus wine and whatever else they could trick you into ordering while thinking it was included. This was an exercise in suppressing the flight/fight response. The place was run down looking as soon as you walked in. It got worse. The stairs to the dining area were lined with clutter. The dining room was last decorated in the 1950’s and had family photos on the wall. Some very old man was escorted up and down the stairs twice to be taken to the bathroom by what may have been his equally ancient tiny woman- must have been mama the chef. He was finally escorted into what we could see was a bedroom opposite the dining room.
But the food was very good – the best potatoes I’d ever had! They were cooked in broth which probably included some of the ham I had with them. Peg’s collard greens soup was totally wonderful. Susan’s lentils were a bit bland and my mussels were a bit stinky and perhaps that is where my current bowel issue comes from but who knows- they were steamed, I am just not sure if it was that day or a few days before and then reheated. And we had a pre-corked bottle of white wine labeled Ribeiro. In the end it did not turn out that cheap unless you count the experience as entertainment.
Oh, and back to the generosity thing, near our hotel (which featured a queen size memory foam mattress, huge fluffy pillows in a nicely appointed room with an excellent shower and lousy wifi) there is a bar with the aforementioned waiter who piled our table with goodies for the price of a beer/wine/soft drink (for me). Wow! And the same thing at the cafe in Muros we stopped in before lunch- for a euro’s worth of coffee you got piles of little cakes and croissants and I forget what else. Astounding! And they say that the food of Galicia is the best of all Spain! Maybe I’ll be back then, rain in the face being a small price to pay.
Video slide show of Fallas through March 17, 2013 with a compendium of street bands
Photos of many of the fabulous sculptures (called ‘fallas’) that are the principal attraction of the Fallas Festival. It starts every year around March 1 and ends every year on March 19. There are also huge fireworks every day (at least two major ones) but that is another video.
The sculptures are up to 25 meters in height and are made from wood and foam. They are burned the night of March 19.
An evening at L’Hermita
I had fun last night though, at the little conversation group at L’Hermita.
I talked to a youngish woman from an aldea, I think is the word, a tiny town it means. In Galicia. She taught me the word for bagpipe. I wrote it down. They play them in Galicia- which comes from Gaul, you prolly know. They were/are Gauls/Celts. She was really sweet, a pleasure to talk to. Then I moved on to an even younger woman. By they way they were assigned to me, I had no choice. This one is Morrocan and just moved here from France. Really sweet. Must be in her early 20’s.
It felt like I was talking to an angel, her voice was so child like. English not bad, Spanish not bad, we spoke a little in French too. The French coming out of my mouth was a bit sprinkled with Spanish, not so much the words as the pronunciation. “Un po'” instead of un peut- that sort of thing. Her mission is to acquire languages apparently. Her’s is a Berber family. She learned a little of that at home on the Atlantic coast of Morocco. I had my large water color pad with me to finish a drawing of L’Hermita and I realized I put a column in the wrong place. I showed her my drawing. She liked it.
The woman who leads this group has bright red hair. She looks very Celtic. more than I do. I sat next to an Italian guy and we talked about the new Papa- which means potato in Central America. I joked that they chose an Argentinian since there are no Catholics in Italy anymore. He laughed. We spoke a little in Italian too. He was deep in conversation with a few others so we did not talk much.
Fallas has begun!
Fallas has unofficially started in Valencia. This huge festival doubles the city’s population for about three weeks.
Here is a video the first Mascleta oif Fallas this year. The Mascleta is an enormous fireworks display. It is more about feeling it that seeing or hearing it. The deep vibrations shake you to the bone! This happens every day at 2pm for three weeks.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P2leje_1Y3I
Satruday night March 9 they brought in the expo of one of the larger fallas, Na Jourdana, which is our neighborhood fallas (these are responsible for organizing and funding their ‘fallas’ which consists of truly marvelous sculptures). They erected a 25 meter tall Trojan horse. I am not sure what the exhibit is about but will keep you posted.
The streets are full of people and vendors selling churros and bunuelos (deep fried also but made of pumpkin or squash of some sort).
Here is a link to some photos: https://plus.google.com/photos/111993279450383941292/albums/5853756659073295025
Enjoy!
Fallas March 15, 2013
Here are photos from Fallas March 11, 2013. There were major efforts to erect the largest sculptures. Here are photos from the one in the main square (the bus) and the one at the Mercado Central. The Trojan horse is near our place at Na Jordana.
https://plus.google.com/photos/101879261292066437674/albums/5854189737108680945
Video and photos from Rome December 2011
To see a really nice video view of Rome from the Gianicolo, click on the following link:
For photos:
gary
Rome December 12- 2 of 2
We went on our merry way to Santa Maria in Trastevere. It is a magnificent church from tiled/mosaic floor to gilded ceiling. And it’s quite old- it was finished in 1143. Mary hangs out outdoors on the pediment in golden mosaics and Byzantine style. The floor tiles were donated by one of the wealthy families; it was something they all did.
Down the way we resolved our lunch squabble by deciding on a restaurant. In a mighty display of acting skill I convinced Peg I would be quite happy about it and as it turns out I even convinced myself, that’s how well I performed. Peg ordered a mighty fine pizza for us to share. It came with bresciola, shaved parmigiano, and rucheta. It was fabulous! The wood oven does a mighty find job with a pizza crust. It is hotter than any home oven can get, up to 800F. The crust cooks very quickly and tends to puff up in spots, raising it off the floor of the oven, giving an uneven crustiness that actually is a major benefit. We had a half bottle of wine, a white from the Colli Albani, the hills just south of Rome. It went very well with the cicorria and brocoletti we ordered as contorni (side dishes served with the second plate normally- the second being the meat or fish). The former was quite spicy. You rarely find cicorria outside Italy, although I have grown it in the US. Brocoletti is very similar if not the same as what we call rapini in the US. In Italian it means ‘little broccoli’ although it is not a broccoli at all, but a Mediterranean herb.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at St. Peters. If you ignore the immense egos of the Popes and the horrors of Christianity at various periods, you can enjoy this immensely beautiful building. Mary’s face in Michaelangelo’s Pieta is way too young for a mother of a 33 year old, but I guess that really does not matter. The building’s proportions, the superb building materials and the high quality of the sculptures and other art work are all stunning. It is amazing what immense wealth can do- as well as a large supply of marble from the Coliseum and other Roman era buildings ravaged to decorate this structure. And never mind that all that marble was quarried with slave labor. Well, at least, put these thoughts aside for a moment to appreciate the great skill you see manifest before you.
Rome December 12 2011 (1 of 2) Misadventures on the way to Holy Mary
It seems I can not remember to both zipper up and do anything else all in the same day. Today I remembered to zipper up so something had to give. We were already on the tram heading for Santa Maria in Trastevere when I learned what it was. My weekly transport pass. It was not in my back pocket where I put it yesterday. Of course the time to check this sort of thing is after you leave the house and get on the thing you need the pass for.
I hopped off the tram as Peg said something about Santa Maria, hopped onto the next one going back to the flat to see if perchance I’d left it there. It took me a few minutes to notice the large group of ticket checkers standing just a few feet away. Fortunately they were chatting with one another so I hopped off and got on the next one. All this was for naught as I did not find the pass in the flat.
In the meantime Peg continued on to Termini station to find a bus map. The ones that purported to be bus maps at the newspaper stands do not have any bus routes on them. We were then going to continue on towards the Etruscan museum at Villa Giulia. I waited for her where I got off. It was over an hour when she showed up, walking from the opposite direction. She had said that we were to meet at Santa Maria in Trastevere. I’d checked there once while waiting but she was not there. At least we only lost 15 minutes which after over an hour in the cold but sunny weather was not too bad. But by this time it was the lunch hour so it was time for us to fight about where we are to eat. Peg has decided that if I don’t chose I’ll get mad if it doesn’t work out. This, of course, made me mad.
Tomorrow I leave with the zipper down.
Rome
We arrived in Rome Tuesday afternoon after a short flight from Valencia. After meeting our landlord for the week- we rented a small flat in Trastevere near the train station- we had a bit of a rest, and went to find a friend at the school on top of the hill. A colleague got her on the phone for us. We’ll meet up some time this week. I’ll tell you about her in a later post.
After some light shopping at a fancy joint – we’d been there before – we had a nice light dinner at a tavola calda called Pizza Boom. Turns out our landlord recommended it but we picked it out on our own. It is just a small place with pizza by the slice, veggies by the weight, and 3.50 for a decent bottle of red. Dinner for two including a nice hunk of mozzarella di bufala for 15 euros.
Tuesday morning, after a cup of the most fabulous cappuccino (how do the Italians do it time after time?) in a little place nearby we went to the Tor Argentina. These ruins are in the middle of busy area. Cat’s live there and are fed and cared for (a sign reads ‘do not feed’). This is where Caesar was assassinated. Like most ruins, they are quite below current street level. This is one of my favorite spots but here I have many.
Then we walked to Bocca de la Verita http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bocca_della_Verit%C3%A0. No way would a guy like me go anywhere near that Bocca thing. This is Peg’s favorite church. It dates from the 8th century. I recall reading that the RCC distributed food from here (grain and oil were given away by the state in Roman times, if I recall correctly), continuing the practice in the absence of government. The crypt is now open. You pay just a euro to go in. Just some columns and a little table with a Byzantine Mary image on it.
Across the street is my favorite Roman temple, that of the Vestal Virgins (not that I am partial to virgins.) I’ll try to do a pen and ink of it. It is in fine shape. Across the way is a 4 arched gate. It is being excavated so you can not get near it right now. Too bad. It was a very important entrance to il Foro (the Forum) which is just a short distance away.
We went into the center of the old town for lunch. There are jillions of places but since we were eating at friend’s house, we ended up in a pizza al taglio (by weight) place since you can eat a light meal for relatively little money. They also have other choices. There was a veal plate for example. I got a plate of veggies. The Italians love veggies and feature them like no one else I know of. I had a plate of breaded eggplant/aubergine and several other veggies. The Italians love olive oil almost as much as the Spanish so there was plenty! I think a bit much for me as afterwards I had to buy a coke to settle my stomach.
In this place and others, if you want say some veggies and some pizza, you have to go to two separate counters. The pizza counter here is run by a woman who reminds me of the nurse character played by Cloris Leachman (opposite Harvey Korman) in Mel Brook’s High Anxiety, a film he did in the 70’s. She had the world’s pointiest boobs with which to menace her opponents. The woman who serves the pizza here thinks all customers are opponents. Anyway she intimidated me into buy a huge piece of pizza with just fresh tomatoes and a few mozzarella balls on it. It was fabulous.
After we went on our merry way we got on the shopping bus they run during the holidays. You get a nice tour of the old town while pretending to window shop. Actually I check out the Roman women, whom I still find to be stunningly shapely despite the winter apparel, which I think should count as a handicap. The young Parisian wearing short shorts with leggings in winter still give me whip lash as well.
The bus brought us to Piazza del Popolo. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_del_Popolo. One of my favorite buildings is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Maria_del_Popolo. Inside is the famous Caravaggio of Paul being hung upside down on a cross. There are some fabulous chiaroscuro- balustrades that have so much dimension you have to touch them to know for certain they are painted.
After a bit of a rest up we went for diner at friends M and P’s place near the Barberini palace. We met M in 1999 and had maintained contact (this is my department as Peg does not do contact very much) and met up in ’04 and ’05 (when we were here for shorter periods), so it was a real pleasure to see them again. Their children have grown up. The son is now 17 and the daughter 16, and a very impressive pair they are. The son expects to study in the UK and the daughter in the US after they graduate. Both speak English and Italian with equal ease.
We had great conversation and food for the next several hours, starting with some thinly sliced ham and some mozzarella with some very lovely Italian red. Then it was the primi piato, pasta with a red sauce and pancetta. Then she served some involtini – which means stuffed. In this case it was some sausage with thyme wrapped by a slice of chicken breast. Lovely.
In the meantime friend J entertained us with his theft story. He left his wallet on the seat of his car in Iceland. The crooks immediately went to a cash machine but did not have the password so J got a message on his phone regarding the attempt, telling him the location. He found a policeman, they went to the bank, got the video of the incident (they knew the time from the phone message) and the cops recognized the crooks. They even knew where they lived, went there and retrieved the wallet completely intact- having threatened the crooks with jail time if there was even a penny missing. Unfortunately J told this story several times. I think he had a bit too much to drink.
It was otherwise going well before we ran out in a panic thinking the buses stopped at 1030 (Peg got this one wrong, the fault of a website). But it was late enough for me anyway, though I hated to end the evening so abruptly. Out we walked into the cold winter night.
