Semana Santa

Well, I am back in Sevilla after nearly a week of living out of a backpack and, as much as I love traveling, I have to say that I am glad to be "home" and back to my routine.

My solo trip began the morning of Friday April 15, when I caught the train to Madrid. I had decided to stay there Friday before catching an early flight to Lisbon on Saturday morning. Even though I had passed through the capital city (where I studied abroad in the fall of 2008) a couple of times since September, I hadn't had a chance to spend any meaningful time there or revisit my favorite places.

I spent most of the day walking around and enjoying the 80 degree temperatures and plentiful sunshine. Some of the highlights of my day included El Parque del Buen Retiro, Plaza del Oriente and the Royal Palace, Parque del Oeste, and the Moncloa/Arguelles neighborhood--where I used to live. I ended the day with a visit to the Prado art museum, which is free every evening from 6-8. It was the perfect way to cap off the first day of my vacation.

Being back in Madrid was an interesting experience. I had forgotten how beautiful it is--and how different it is from Sevilla. Whereas Sevilla is a fairly large city (about 700,000 people), Madrid is enormous--around 3 million within the city limits (and about 2 million more in the surrounding area). As the capital of Spain, Madrid has a very European, cosmopolitan feel while Sevilla is just about as authentically Spanish as you can get and has a much rawer, grittier personality. For me, the biggest difference between the two is the connection I feel to each. Despite spending nearly 4 months in Madrid, I have almost no attachment to it. Since I traveled nearly every weekend while studying abroad, most of my time in the city was spent in the area between my host family's apartment and the university. I don't know my way around very well, I don't have any favorite restaurants or bars to speak of, and I haven't seen the vast majority of the city. Sevilla is another story altogether. I think I can say that I know this city pretty well. Yes, I've spent more time here...but I think that I am much more well suited to Sevilla--as I've said all along, it's much more manageable in size, the people are a little friendlier, and in a lot of ways it reminds me of the Spanish version of Nashville. Don't get me wrong--I still love Madrid. These are just some of the thoughts that crossed my mind while I wandered around Madrid.

Saturday morning I woke up at 3:30 a.m. so that I could be at the airport by 5 for my 6:25 flight. Not surprisingly, there were lots of people out and about in Madrid at that hour... only they were still partaking in or returning from their Friday night festivities. The flight to Lisbon was quick, only about 50 minutes, and--although I was going on only 3.5 hours of sleep--I was excited to have the entire day ahead of me to get acquainted with the city.

I took the bus from the airport to the city center and found my way to my hostel. The girl who checked me in was incredibly friendly and helpful and was eager to give me tips on where to go, what to see, and the best ways to get around the city. After a quick nap and some complimentary breakfast, I walked to a nearby tram stop to catch Tram Number 28, which would take me through the heart of Lisbon to the Alfama district, giving me an opportunity to get my bearings on the way to the area around the Castelo do São Jorge. The best part was that my ticket from the airport bus would get me on the tram for free all day.

Riding on the tram was a cool experience in and of itself. Lisbon draws a lot of comparisons to San Francisco and the trams are the equivalent to cable cars. The trams are old, the ride was a bit bumpy, and many other tourists had the same idea as me. Still, it was worth it to see a lot of the city in a short time and it saved me from having to walk up the city's incredibly steep hills--the second way in which Lisbon is similar to San Francisco.

I hopped off the tram in Alfama, the ancient Moorish part of the city and one of the only neighborhoods that survived the 1755 earthquake, and took in my first glimpses of the Rio Tejo and the city's trademark red roofs and beautiful architecture. The city, and especially Alfama, has several miradouros (or viewpoints) that provide breathtaking looks at the city and its surroundings. From the first miradouro, I could see the 25 de Abril Bridge, which not only looks exactly like the Golden Gate Bridge but was actually built by the same company that constructed the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge.

After snapping several photos, I climbed the rest of the way up to the castle, which is probably the most popular tourist attraction in Lisbon, both because it is beautiful itself and because it provides spectacular views of the city. I spent the rest of the morning exploring the castle and taking way too many pictures before taking the tram back to my hostel to change into shorts. As the girl at my hostel had warned me would happen, the temperature was heating up--and fast.

For lunch, I decided to find a restaurant where I could try bacalao (salted cod), the national dish of Portugal. It is usually doused (and I mean doused!) in olive oil, seasoned with lots of fresh herbs and served with a side of potatoes. While I am glad to say that I tried it, I have to admit that I am not a fan. It was much too salty for my tastes!

After such a filling lunch, spending the afternoon exploring the city on foot sounded like a good idea. I returned to the Alfama district, made my way to one of the uppermost miradouros in a neighborhood called Graça, and got lost (on purpose) wandering through the steep, winding streets of the oldest part of the city. Although I was tired and feeling a little lonely without my usual travel companions, it was an awesome day--and I was fast falling in love with Lisbon!

I had designated Sunday as the day I would take a day trip to Sintra, a town that is about 40 minutes by train from Lisbon. My friend Briana, who went to Portugal when she studied abroad two years ago, had recommended doing so and after doing some research on the area I decided it was a must, especially given the summer-like weather. Sintra is home to several castles and palaces and is surrounded by lots of greenery and mountains. As soon as I stepped off the train, I understood why the Portuguese royals had chosen it as the site for their vacation homes!

I ended up on a public tourist bus that made stops at two of the most popular tourist attractions--the Moorish Castle and Pena National Palace. The Moorish Castle--which consists of stone walls and towers that wind around the steep hilltops-- was built in the eighth or ninth century, obviously by the Moors, and the views of the surrounding area and the town of Sintra are spectacular. Pena National Palace, on the other hand, was built in the nineteenth century and is purely Romantic in style. The exterior walls are painted in bright colors (yellow, pink, etc.) and, as my mother accurately pointed out, it looks just like something from Disney World. As at the Moorish Castle, the views were out of this world. I finished my excursion with a walk around the historic city center of Sintra before catching the train back to Lisbon.

On Monday, my last day in Lisbon, I hit the ground running as soon as I got up so that I could check the rest of the items off of my to-do list. My first destination was an area called Belém, which is down the river from central Lisbon. I got off right in front of Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, a sixteenth century monastery that is now a World Heritage sight. Afterward, I made a stop at Pastéis de Belém, the birthplace of pastéis de nata, a delicious pastry that is just about everywhere you turn in Portugal. While I knew the pastry would be good, I have to say it was one of the best pastries I have ever eaten! With my sweet tooth satisfied, I walked to the Monument to the Discoveries, which commemorates Portugal's role in the Age of Exploration, and then the Torre de Belém, a fifteenth century military fortification.

I had read online that some of the best views of Lisbon were to be found across the river. So, my last activity of the morning was taking the ferry to Cacilhas, the suburb opposite Lisbon. It was really neat to see the city from that perspective, though because I had experienced so many great vistas over the course of my trip I can't say that this one was necessarily the best!

By the time I finished lunch, the weather (which had henceforth been absolutely perfect) was starting to take a turn for the worse. However, before the rain got too heavy, I thought I would take a stroll down Avenida da Liberdade, the main thoroughfare in downtown Lisbon that runs from Rossio (the central square) to Marques de Pombal Square. The avenue itself is beautiful and is lined on either side with pedestrian walkways and gardens. It is also the ritziest street in Lisbon as the home of expensive hotels and stores. Its relative newness and modernity was an interesting contrast to the old parts of the city I had spent most of my time in and, after my walk, I felt like I had a good sense of Lisbon as a whole.

On my last night in Portugal, I thought it was only fitting to have one last traditional Portuguese meal. As it was pouring down rain and thundering, I decided to try out a restaurant a couple of streets from my hostel that the staff had recommended to me on my first night. When I walked into the restaurant, I was the only customer--in fact, the waiter/owner was sitting at a table enjoying a glass of wine. When I sat down, I quickly realized that the menu was only in Portuguese and, while I had picked up a few vocabulary words over the course of my trip and could figure out some of the dishes using my Spanish, I wasn't entirely sure what I was reading. Thus, when the waiter came back to my table, my first question was "Do you speak English?" As I had suspected, he didn't--and I soon learned that Spanish was off the table as well. As a result, we communicated in an entertaining mix of English, Spanish, and (mostly) hand gestures and miming. I ended up ordering a frango (chicken) dish--or at least I hoped that's what it was! Luckily, when my dinner arrived, I discovered that I had made the right choice and that I had in fact ordered chicken. I should have listened to the hostel's recommendation in the first place because this was by far the most delicious (not to mention cheapest) meal I had in Portugal. Even though it was nasty outside, my trip was ending on a good note.

Tuesday morning I caught yet another early flight to return to Madrid, where I met up with Pam and her brother, Steve, who was visiting from the States. We spent most of the time wandering around and ended up at Retiro park, where we sat by a very picturesque pond and enjoyed another day of perfect weather. Once they left to go back to Sevilla on Wednesday, I went back to the Prado, where I saw two temporary exhibits. While I enjoyed my time in Madrid, I was certainly happy to get back to Sevilla on Thursday afternoon.

All in all, it was a great trip. Unfortunately, the weather back in Sevilla did not cooperate and almost all of the Semana Santa processions from Thursday on were rained out. In fact, the local press has written that this was the most disappointing Holy Week in decades. For me, though, getting to see the Easter morning procession was one of the most memorable experiences of my time in Spain. By Sunday morning, the weather had cleared up, at least temporarily. I was sound asleep at 6:30 a.m. (after getting home at 4:30 after a night out) when I was awoken by the sounds of a marching band. Although I was initially disoriented and confused, I quickly realized that what I was hearing was the procession celebrating the Resurrection. I threw on some jeans and a jacket and ran outside since I knew that this was my last chance to experience Semana Santa. Even though I had seen pictures of the processions, seeing one in person was more impressive that I ever imagined. The processions, which are put on by hermandades (brotherhoods), are centered around massive pasos--lifelike wood or plaster sculptures of individual scenes of the events that happened between Jesus' arrest and his burial, or images of the Virgin Mary showing grief for the torture and killing of her son. The pasos are mounted on huge floats which are carried on the shoulders of members of the brotherhood staging the procession. They are accompanied by various other participants, including nazarenos, who dress in the unique habit and hood of their brotherhood--which, as any American observer will tell you, bear a disturbing resemblance to the robes worn by the KKK. Between the paso, the nazarenos, the music, and the pervasive scent of incense, there is no way you cannot be moved on some level by the entire scene. I followed the procession for close to an hour (and was still within a block of my house) and then went home to get a few more hours of sleep. I can honestly say I am very pleased with the way my week off turned out.

A Day at the Beach

Until I moved to Sevilla, I'd never lived close enough to the coast to be able to go on an impromptu day trip to the beach. Thus, when the opportunity to spend the afternoon soaking up the sun in the neighboring province of Huelva arose yesterday, I couldn't say no.

I met up with my friend Janet and two English girls who were visiting her for the weekend at Plaza de Armas to catch an 11:00 a.m. bus to Matalascañas, the closest beach to Sevilla. We had given ourselves 15 minutes to buy our tickets and find our seats. Unfortunately, upon arriving at the bus station, we discovered that just about everyone else in Sevilla also wanted to spend their Sunday at the beach and we anxiously waited in line, hoping that we would be able to make it on time. Luckily, this being Spain, where almost everything runs behind schedule, we still made the bus, despite being a few minutes late.

The bus ride itself took a little over an hour and along the way we got to admire the beautiful Andalusian countryside. Once we got off the bus, we followed the crowds toward the beach, stopping to stock up on sunscreen and water. Although it felt a little on the cool side at that point, we knew that it would only be a matter of time before things heated up. The beach was already fairly crowded but we were easily able to find a spot. After applying sunscreen, I stretched out on my beach towel and commenced by lazy day by the sea. I was once again reminded that I am truly my mother's daughter and my grandmother's granddaughter--I am perfectly content to lounge on the beach for hours on end, without any need for entertainment.

Around 3 we headed to the boardwalk in search of food. We settled on a restaurant where we could sit outside and admire the view of the Atlantic while enjoying some typical Spanish cuisine. I ordered arroz marinero, which is essentially paella made only with seafood (no chicken or rabbit). After our meal we made a quick stop at an ice cream place and then made our way back to the beach to enjoy a couple more hours of sun.

Once we were back at the beach, one of the other girls commented that the tops of my legs were looking a little pink. I hadn't noticed them feeling burned at all but decided to apply some more sunscreen. I didn't think much of it at the time and continued on my quest to return to Sevilla with at least a little more color than I'd had before.

By the time we got back to the bus stop at 6, I was definitely beginning to feel like my legs had been overexposed. As we made the trip back to Sevilla, I was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute... and my legs had gone from a slightly pink color to bright red. As luck would have it, we got stuck in Sunday evening rush hour traffic as all of the sevillanos were returning to the city after spending the weekend at their country or beach homes. When we finally arrived at Plaza de Armas around 8, I bid my beach companions farewell and made a beeline towards home. After talking to my mom (and subsequently bursting into tears from the pain of the sunburn), I showered and applied copious amounts of lotion to the affected areas, which turned out to be just about my entire body, not just my legs. I then put on some loose-fitting pajamas and cursed myself for not being more responsible with applying sunscreen. I had forgotten just how much stronger the sun is here.

I certainly learned my lesson and hopefully will not have a similar experience the next time I go to the beach. Despite having one of the worst sunburns of my life, I still managed to have a great day and am glad I decided to take advantage of being so close to the beach. I might even venture to say that it was worth the sunburn.

Just when I thought life in Sevilla couldn't get any better... it did.

Last week wasn't without it's moments, though. Here the preface to my story: my friends Rachel and Jan, who teach together at a school in Sevilla, had recently been told by their principal that the junta (the regional government) had sent a letter regarding their auxiliar work schedules. According to the school, Rachel and Jan not only had to make up the days they had missed (which is understandable) but also had to put in extra hours to account for the daily recreo (recess) period, which the school had been counting in the 12-hours we are required to work each week. Despite the fact that the discrepancy in their schedules was clearly the school's fault, not Rachel and Jan's, the principal and bilingual coordinator told my friends that they would have to make up the time by the end of April--or else they wouldn't be paid for the month of May. Considering we only receive a measly 700 euros a month, not receiving our stipend is a big deal. Thus, Rachel and Jan, naturally very upset by the situation (which wasn't good to begin with), waited for their school to decide what they were going to have to do and prepared to fight back.

Fast forward to early last week. I was working with Javier in our department office when the principal of our school came in and presented me with what I think must be the same letter that Rachel and Jan's school had received a few days before. Basically, the letter explained that there seemed to have been some discrepancies in the schedules sent by the schools to the junta at the beginning of the year and that the bilingual coordinators needed to fill out new schedules and resend them to the Ministry of Education. The letter also outlined the stipulations of our contracts as far as our schedules go. Obviously, I already knew that I was required to work 12-hours per week. However, the letter expanded on that requirement by saying that at least 8 of those hours had to be spent in direct contact with students in the classroom. This was a new piece of information that I don't remember ever seeing before and one that caught my attention as my schedule only has me spending 4 hours in class with the students... and that's on a rare good week, when there are no exams or other interruptions to keep me out of class. Considering what I knew about the events at Rachel and Jan's school, and despite the fact that my school is one of the more laid back I have heard of, I was scared that I was going to have to make up an absurd number of hours or adapt to a drastically different schedule in the last two months of work. Plus, I've missed my fair share of days for travel. Yes, I have had Ceferino's blessing and I had been told that I didn't need to make up those days. Still, it was beginning to seem like the government was realizing just how much of a joke the Language & Culture Assistant program is and wanted to cover their tracks.

The next day, Ceferino showed me a new schedule that added class time to my preexisting schedule. I was a little disappointed... until he informed me that this version was just to make the junta happy. I would still be working my old hours and there was no mention of making up any missed days. Unfortunately, Rachel and Jan's situation wasn't resolved as easily. I won't go into all the details because it's very complex but suffice it to say that I am very lucky to work where I do.

Relieved that my work dilemma had come to a quick and painless end, I was ready to enjoy another weekend in Sevilla. Thursday, after work and a much needed siesta, I met up with Pam, Andy, and Janet in Plaza del Salvador, which is once again filled with young sevillanos on weekend evenings. Thursday nights at Salvador were one of my favorite parts of the fall semester and I was glad to get back there after a very long hiatus. Friday afternoon I met up with some friends by the river to soak up the beautiful 80+ degree temperatures and strong sun. We spent a few hours out there, talking, drinking, and fending off the ducks, which encroached on our territory several times in search of food. After that outing, I headed home to get to sleep early, in anticipation of Saturday's day trip to Gibraltar.

Saturday morning at 7:30 I met up with Pam, Andy, Janet, and Jan at Puente de la Barqueta to catch a bus, along with about 50 other people from the Thursday night intercambio group, to Gibraltar. I had been wanting to see the famous rock and strange British colony since arriving in Sevilla and was excited to finally have the opportunity, with a great group of people no less. The bus ride itself was about 3 hours, including one stop for breakfast and bathrooms. Upon arriving in La Linea de la Concepción, the last Spanish town before Gibraltar, everyone got off the bus and was free to spend the day as they pleased. We flashed our passports and crossed the border and my four friends and I headed toward the city center.

After a bit of wandering, we stumbled upon a tour guide, who offered to take us on a 1.5-hour tour of Gibraltar's highlights for 25 euros, including tickets to enter the nature reserve. Since we had no idea what else to do, and he explained that seeing all of the sights on our own would take 3 times as long, we decided to take him up and boarded a van, along with a nice English guy. Our tour guide had lived in Gibraltar since he was a young boy and was very knowledgeable about the history of the colony, which has been under British control since 1704. We began our journey up the rock and made our first stop at a view point, from which we could see the Spanish city of Algeciras as well as the coast of Africa, which is only 17 kilometers away. Afterward, we continued onward, stopping next at St. Michael's Caves. Having seen many a cave in my day, I have to say that these were some of the most impressive I have ever seen. Perhaps one of the most interesting things about the cave is that there is a huge amphitheater in the middle, where musicians from all over the world come to perform. We spent about 15 minutes admiring the rock formations and then exited the cave to reunite with our guide. The next attraction was the official home of Gibraltar's famous Barbary apes, which allegedly came to live on the rock hundreds of years ago when merchant seamen, who kept the monkeys as pets, left them behind when they got too big to live on board the ships. We had been warned ahead of time to beware of the monkeys as they have been known to snatch belongings (sunglasses, jewelry, etc.) from tourists and occasionally get a little aggressive. Before we knew it, Pam had an ape on her shoulder, thanks to our guide who had called the animal over. Jan and Andy were also brave enough to hold a monkey. Meanwhile, Janet and I stayed as far away as we could, resolutely telling the guide that we wanted nothing to do with the animals. After telling the apes goodbye, we saw some more amazing views of both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean (which meet at Gibraltar) from the top of the rock and then made our last stop of the tour at the Great Siege Tunnels. All in all, I think we were very pleased with our decision to take the tour. We learned a lot about Gibraltar, which I am very glad to have seen.

As we were all very hungry and still had a few hours to kill before returning to Sevilla, we decided to take advantage of being on British territory and enjoyed a delicious lunch of fish and chips. After that, we wandered around a little before heading back to the bus to meet up with the rest of the group. We were back in Sevilla by 7:30, exhausted from a wonderful day.

Having had a low-key, restful Sunday, I am recharged and ready for another week of work. Two more to go before Semana Santa and my trip to Lisbon and Madrid. And on that note, it's dinner time. Hasta pronto...