Catholic parades and Sunday escapades

Last weekend was a non-stop party. Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday all involved fiestas that did not end until long after Minnesota bar close. Instead of going through a long and detailed process of how and why each evening went until sunrise, I’ll point out the highlights.

VOCABULARY LESSON 2: Catholicism

La virgen- The virgin. As all of you probably know, the Catholic faith worships virgins, and in Spain, every city, every "pueblo" (town/village) has their own patron saint or virgen.

¡La virgen!- An expression Spanish people say when they are surprised by something. They exclaim: THE VIRGIN!!

La virgen de la cabeza- The patron virgin of Jaén. She lives in a sanctuary in a pueblo of Jaén called Andujar. (Side note: I live in the city of Jaén, which is the capital of the province of Jaén.)

On Saturday we left our apartment for the first time in the late evening to go to a soccer game. On our way out, we found hundreds of people crowding the streets starting at the cathedral and trailing all the way down to the soccer field (a good 8 or 9 blocks). We started asking random people on the street what was going on, and they all told us that la virgen was coming to Jaén for the first time. La virgen?? We thought this was strange but didn't think much of it. After the soccer game, while walking home, we found la virgen sitting atop a throne supported by thirty men being paraded down the street accompanied by music and chanting. “Viva la virgen!” (“Live the virgin!”) They paraded her all the way up to the cathedral where she will stay for a week so all the people of Jaén can go visit her… Check it out:

She is also referred to as la negrita (the little black woman) because she has a black face. After seeing the parade, we came home and realized that this strange mini-statue we found in our living room cabinets upon moving in is in fact la virgen de la cabeza!! Amy and I then celebrated this discovery with our own mini-parade around our living room:

VOCABULARY LESSON 2.4: Food

Aceitunas- Olives. Jaén produces 20% of the worlds olives, so olive oil (aceite de oliva) and olives flood the food here. It is, to say the least, a delicatessen.

Bocadillo- The Spanish staple... a sandwich with baguette bread and one or two ingredients. Usually ham and cheese or a mix of pureed tomato and olive oil.

Jamón serrano- Cured ham. They eat it all the time and with everything! It’s extremely thinly sliced, really salty, and super delicious!

Jamón y queso- Ham and cheese. You can get ham and cheese in/on anything/everything. It’s like their version of peanut butter and jelly.

Pata- Pig leg. Cafes that serve jamón serrano have pig legs hanging in the corner. They thinly slice it and serve them on bocadillos, or just plain on a plate. You can buy one for as cheap as 30 euro!

Pata negra- “Black” pig leg. It is the more expensive, classy, and delicious version of pata. I was told it’s more tasty because the pig owners exercise the pig and let it wander around free instead of in locking it up in a cage. Pata negra goes for 150 euro or more.

Tapa- In Jaén and select other cities in Southern Spain, it is tradition that when you order a drink (pop, beer or water) you get a piece of food to go along with it. With every drink you order, you get a different tapa. The tapa can vary from something as small as a plate of potato chips to shrimp, ham, or mini-sandwiches.

Tortilla española- A thick, hard omelet with simply egg and potato, onion if you're feeling fancy.

Highlights from the previous weekend mostly involve Sunday. Holly and I met up with a fellow teacher Manuel for “a” drink in his barrio (neighborhood) with his uncle around 1pm. His uncle- can’t remember his name- really reminds me of my uncle Tony. So, all afternoon, I referred to him as Tio Tony!! He found this quite entertaining. The afternoon started simply enough at a local café with a couple of beers and tapas, which quickly progressed in to three more glasses of wine and a copa (mixed drink). One of the biggest challenges I have yet to overcome with my Spanish language skills is joking! I cannot seem to understand or read Spanish people well enough to know if they are joking or being serious. This is also made harder by the fact that Spanish people are quite harsh with their words. Not sure how to explain this except that as a girl from Minnesota, accustomed to “Minnesota nice,” it is hard to not be offended when I talk and they respond with, “I didn’t understand one word you just said because of your accent!” or “You have been here a whole month and don’t know this word?!” Also, we have found that the Spanish do not play with their tone of voice. In America, when making a joke, we may elevate or lower our tone of voice, playing with sounds and facial expressions. The Spanish seem quite monotone, and when joking, their expressions don’t really give it away. At one point during our afternoon of drinks, Manuel and Tio Tony started joking about the bar owners sister, saying she was going to stop by to say hi to us, and that we should be forewarned that she is really ugly. They warned us that she is a puta (prostitute) and that she has had a hard time finding business since she started her work. Because of monotone voices, lack of facial expressions, the bar owner looking quite offended, and perhaps the number of drinks involved, I totally bought it. They continued by saying that she is known as la fea de Jaén (the ugly woman of Jaén) and that parents threaten their kids with a beso (kiss) from la fea if they don’t finish their dinner… That she is so ugly her baby incubator was tinted… That the priest baptized her with a squirt gun because she was so ugly he wouldn’t touch her… That she learned how to walk alone because she was so ugly no one would touch her… I think by the priest part I realized they were joking around. Soon enough I’ll pick up on the whole joking factor. I can only hope that it won't always take me so long to figure it out! 

Later on, still at the same place, I mentioned to the owner that Holly wants to get a job in a bar/café… soon after Holly was kidnapped into the back kitchen. When I went to find her, she was adorned with an apron, washing dishes. “Holly, why are you washing dishes?!” I asked. “I have absolutely no idea!! I couldn’t understand them!” Want to see the action live? Check it out here:

The afternoon turned into evening, and then night, and before you know it we weren’t home until 2am! “A” drink turned into a 13 hour escapade. Only in Spain, only in Spain! Today, Holly made tortilla española for dinner, I am happy!!

Saludos,
Molly

Málaga & Córdoba

On Thursday the 22nd we finally moved into our apartment. We picked a place in the center of the city on a pedestrian back-street with an absolutely picturesque view of the cathedral and the street below. The apartment is quite big, it has three bedrooms (one room has two beds), two bathrooms, a kitchen, living room, patio and a balcony all for 500 Euro a month, meaning rent is a measly $250 a month per person. There are some setbacks to the apartment… like it lacks an oven (which we did not notice until we bought a frozen pizza and had nowhere to cook it but the stove top), the TV is quite small and fuzzy, a couple of the doors and the door to the refrigerator don’t close quite right, there is almost non-existent storage room in the kitchen and the bathrooms, and there’s no light in one of the bathrooms… but these are all minor details that the landlady agreed to fixing. Her and her husband bought us a new flat-screen TV, they ordered an electrician to fix the lighting, and they are allowing us to buy all new pots and pans along with more storage space. We did not, however, ask for an oven. The picture to the left is the view from my balcony.

The first weekend we had our apartment we decided to take a little weekend trip. For the weekend Holly and I decided to go to Málaga, a beach town that is supposed to be really beautiful and relaxing. Well, Málaga was kind of a dirty dump with not much to do or see besides the beach, which we never made it to (I will explain why later).

It was Halloween. Upon arriving we went to an internet cafe to try and find a hostel. We left behind my absolutely favorite green sweater and Holly's cell phone. Once we got checked into the hostel and realized we had left her cell behind, I called it to hear some shady dude at the other end claiming he was a "friend" of the cell phone owner. I challenged him, "No, you stole my friends phone," and he agreed to meet us at the bus station in ten minutes to return it. For some reason, we believed him, and went to the bus station. Of course, he wasn't there and he had shut the phone off so we couldn't call him back. So we spent the first two or three hours of the trip 1. Trying to get Holly's phone back and 2. Trying to buy her a new phone. Great start to our beach-town vacation. Afterwards we headed to an over-priced Picasso museum with not so exciting pieces of his art (his best works are all in Barcelona and Madrid). By this time, it was too late to go to the beach, so we decided to nap and then start drinking for Halloween. We painted our faces, I was a cat, and Holly was a cat victim, and we headed out to the botellón in the middle of a park about only 1 block from our hostel. Everyone was dressed up in scary costumes- I think they were better at dressing up for Halloween than Americans actually are. Eventually, somewhere between botellón and going back to the hostel, I lost the hostel keys (not sure how I managed that). In the morning, I vomited bile, eww, and when I told Holly the news she wisely proclaimed, "Let’s cut our losses and go to Córdoba instead." "Yes, definitely." The bus left at 4pm and so we wandered around the streets and parks of Malaga like hung over homeless people.

Our arrival in Córdoba was quite pleasant. Córdoba is up for the “2016 European Capital of Culture” and I would not be surprised if it won. The entire city is sparkling clean and very well put together. There are historical sites and green parks… the city is just a nice place to be in general. Córdoba is famous for La Mezquita, meaning The Mosque in English. The building and place where it stands has quite a bit of history to it. The first religious site to stand there was the Christian Visigoth church of St. Vincent, built in the year 600. Muslims started invading Southern Spain in 711, which led Muslims to tear down the church and build a mosque in its place in 784, finishing its construction in 987. In 1236, Córdoba was reconquered by Spain and the inside of the mosque was partially transformed into a Catholic church. The mosque is now famous for its jasper columns and it’s oddly placed catholic nave smack in the middle. It was, to say the least, absolutely strange and extremely intriguing.

Our trip to Córdoba also included a trip to the Arab baths. The baths were an extremely relaxing experience—three different rooms with three different temperatures. There was a (very) cold bath, a room temp bath, and an (extremely) hot bath. There was also a sauna and a 15 minute massage included. It was a great way to end our day in Córdoba and head back to Jaén.

Now, it turns out that my massive hangover and dehydration Sunday resulted in a clogged, bacteria infected salivary gland on Monday. My upper jaw, below my right ear, swelled to the size of a golf ball within a couple of days. It's fair to say it's immensely swollen and painful, but it seems to be improving with the aid of a good dental specialist and antibiotics. We could say that I am going to avoid Malaga for as long as humanly possible.

Hasta pronto!
Molly