The wanderings of two best friends...

The eventful month of April came to a climactic conclusion with the visit of my beeeest friend in the whole wide world, Rachel. Rachel and I met in third grade and have been the closest of friends ever since. We have always considered ourselves lucky for being blessed with a non-biological sister. It sounds cheesy, but this sisterhood we've created will forever tie us. Due to the general business of life, we can go months without talking much, and when we meet up (whether in our home-sweet-home of MPLS, in her new home in NYC, or in my new home in SPAIN) it's as if we've been together every day since the last day we saw each other. When we're together it's a silly fest... we revert back into our childhoods and behave like the little girls we once were (and still are?). When we're together, there's always an adventure.

So, if you can imagine what it was like when she visited... there was a bit of an adventure everywhere we stepped...

Rachel arrived on the afternoon of the 24th, and (being the trooper that she is) was willing to jump right into our first mini-adventure within a half an hour of arriving. Some friends of mine were heading to el campo, the countryside, for lunch and an "excursion." While driving through the hilly mountains dotted with olive trees, Rachel explained what she believed to be the history of the rocks and the mountains in the area (nerd), which I was completely fascinated by (double nerd). We arrived, sat on stone benches, and ate our homemade bocadillos while Rachel was quizzed about all the famous people she has met through her work at Universal in NYC. After ingesting our makeshift lunch, we were off on an uphill hike to see an old Moorish castle.

Monday we day tripped to the UNESCO World Heritage City of Baeza!
....and Tuesday jointly headed up to Madrid, where we spent an evening shopping...

...aaaaaand the next day we were off to Lanzarote, one of the Spanish Canary Islands. Lanzarote is a tiny tiny island covered in volcanic rock off the coast of Morocco, and is home to just under 140,000 people! It takes only an hour and a half to drive from the most northern tip to the most southern tip, which made it easy to visit every inch within just four days. The first day was spent driving from one end to the other to check out all the small towns and tourist sites. It didn't take us too long to discover that ALL buildings on this island are white with green windows and doors.... I'm not exaggerating when I say ALL. Houses, tourist buildings, the airport, everything is white and green. Why is that?? There's this guy named Cesar Manrique who has a strange and unofficial monopoly over the art and design of the entire island... he was the one who decided that all the houses should boast the same colors and that none should be taller than the tallest palm tree. It gives the island a picturesque, romantic kind of look and feel... but I would say that it's a bit creepy when everything looks identical.


Our main stop was to Cueva de los Verdes (Green's Cave), named for the Green family, the people that supposedly used to own the caves at some point in time. Somewhere between 3-5,000 years ago the caves were formed by dried lava from a volcanic eruption. In the 1960's the caves were decorated with artistic lighting and music and turned into one of Lanzarote's biggest tourist attractions. Who ever would have thought that caves would have great acoustics?



We also stopped by to see some amazing views of Isla Graciosa (Graciosa Island) which is off the North coast of Lanzarote and is home to only 700 people. Eek, imagine growing up there.

Of course, a stop by the a local, family winery was obligatory. There they made white, red and rose wine, along with some other strange variations. Our purchases included a block of the owner's mom's home-made goat cheese and a bottle of cactus liquor-- a sugary bright lime green alcohol made out of the leaves. In all honesty it was terrible. We threw it away.

We ended up in our home base of Playa Blanca late every night. Playa Blanca is an overly touristy town on the Southern coast lined with white sandy beaches packed with mostly English tourists. The vast majority of pubs and restaurants are English, leaving me with the impression is that the English flock to the Canary Islands like Americans flock to resort towns in Mexico. We stayed in a super cheaply priced beach side resort that has, surprisingly, a lot in common with the rockin' resort in Dirty Dancing. How so? For starters, our resort was filled with retired people or children under the age of five. Most days we were woken up around 10am to the sounds of poolside Jock Jams style music on repeat, which included such great tacky resort classics such as "Livin' la vida loca." (But, I have to say, my favorite poolside song was one with a laugh track built into it...) Bingo and darts were the most exciting daytime activities, and at night there was a live singer or two doing mediocre covers of everything from Alicia Keys to Bryan Adams. The (more than likely underpaid and tortured) performers were surrounded by retirees sitting in lined up couches watching out of sheer boredom while some of the more outgoing seniors danced along, giggling their hearts out. Oh, there was also a "SHOW ROOM" that, on one particular night, was hosting a show called "Lord of the Dance." Yes!

The highlight of the trip was our visit to the Papagayo beaches, known for being the best on the island. Safeguarded by a natural park, the beaches are quiet and untouched by the cafes, umbrellas, garbage and loud city noises that sometimes plague normal city beaches. We went to the last and most hidden beach in the park and enjoyed a peaceful, quiet, nude day under the sun. That's right, we went to a nude beach and partook. It was quite liberating actually-- it was a totally new way to experience the beach and the ocean! On my days on the beach I usually tend to miss at least one spot with the sunscreen... and this time it was the top of my feet. I think I got lucky, considering.


Our last two side events were a trip to visit Timanfaya Park and another to ride camels. Timanfaya Park was a little bit of a let-down, as it consisted of a 45 minute bus ride through dried lava and volcanic rock. There were some neat sites to see... the way the lava dried was really cool- but by bus wasn't the best way to experience the unique views. Now, a great way to experience the views of Timanfaya is by camel. Rachel and I were seated on the tallest and proudest camel of them all. The ride was a short ten minutes but that was enough camel for me.

Wander on, wander on....

But it's not TIME to eat...

Now that my time in Jaén is wrapping up, it's time for me to express some... cultural differences... I've come to notice in my time here. The first and most important being about food, of course.

"¡Pero no es la hora de comer!" = "But it's not the time to eat!"

The Spanish eating schedule is extremely fixed. Breakfast is whenever you wake up and usually consists of coffee and a piece of toasted baguette bread with something on top (ham? cheese? tomato? pate?). Lunch, their biggest meal of the day, must begin between 1-3pm. A light snack (optional) is eaten somewhere around 5-6pm. And dinner? Sometime after 9pm. If you eat anywhere outside of those boundaries, it's "NOT the time to eat." The majority of people seem to get really nervous and confused when you eat outside of schedule. How strict are they on this whole "time to eat" thing? Here are some examples...

This is what a bar looks like when it's closed... =(

1. The vast majority of bars that (normally) serve food CLOSE their kitchen, and sometimes their doors, from 2-8:30pm. Grocery stores also close at 2pm and don't re-open until 6pm... meaning... if you wake up late, or get a late start on the day, and happen to not have any groceries in the house, you WILL go hungry until something opens.
2. When I was visiting my friend Nacho in Barcelona over New Years, we were out until sunrise drinking and partying. The next day his family was having a New Years day lunch (remember, biggest meal of the day) starting at 1pm. Well, we woke up late and headed over there around 4 or 5... What was the first thing they said upon our arrival to lunch? Grandma: "It's a little LATE to be eating, don't you think?" Aunt: "Dear god it's late to eat..." Other Aunt: "I think it's too late for you to eat..." Really?...but we just woke up...
3. Holly and I invited a couple of teachers over to have a taco dinner at our house. I told them they could come when they wanted (as it doesn't tend to matter to Americans at what time we eat, just that we do it eventually, when we're hungry) and they insisted I choose the hour. So, I decided 7pm. Response? "7pm??! Buut, that's soooo early. How about 8pm, at the earliest." So, 8pm it was. They arrived on time, and the third thing out of their mouths? "One of my friends stopped by my house today with merienda (the "snack" eaten around 5pm-ish) but I had to say turn down what she brought for me because I had plans to eat dinner really, really early today." Really??
4. One Sunday afternoon, Holly, Amy and I woke up with a slight hangover around 3pm with empty stomachs and no groceries. We stupidly decided to venture out into the empty streets of Jaén on a Sunday (everything is closed on Sunday) at 4pm (kitchens still closed for another four hours) to look for food. We had made plans to meet up with some Spanish guys for coffee at 5pm, and we immediately asked them to take us to food. His response? "But it's not TIME to eat... it's 5pm!!" Really?! Yes, really. We explained our hangover/no food situation and he took us to a bocadillo place that was, miraculously, open on a Sunday at 5pm.
   

"Pero... cuando comeis en Estados Unidos" = "But... at what time do you eat in the US?"

It's been a challenge explaining to Spanish people that we don't have "a time" to eat our meals in the US. You just eat when you 1. have time 2. are hungry 3. feel like it. Now, it's fair to say that we have a general outline for meals... breakfast between 8-10am, lunch between 12-1pm and dinner somewhere between 5-7pm. But I will say that in America, if you are hungry at 3 in the afternoon, no one is going to call you crazy for it... and you won't have trouble finding things open.

Jamón ibérico = Cured ham.
Most restaurants sport a few of these on their walls
and regularly shave of pieces to serve to customers. Mmm.

"¿Te gusta la comida espanola? Es la mejor comida del mundo..." = "Do you like Spanish food? It's the best food in the world..."

This is my favorite Spanish person question... my response usually is, "Yes, I like it. But it's hard not to like olive oil, potatoes, ham, cheese, and baguette bread..." The Spanish diet is a simple diet based (basically) on the things I've listed above. Yes, I like Spanish food, but sometimes there is such a small variety in the foods they eat I get bored. I mean, c'mon, their hamburgers are made out of chicken. At the school I work at the principal and secretary invite me to eat lunch with them, and this way I have been able to try a ton of delicious homemade traditional Spanish foods-- and I really enjoy them-- but I will be honest and say the variety of foods is pretty small and that Spanish gastronomy is far from the best in the world.

Tons and tons of Extra Virgin Olive Oil at a co-op in Jaén.

"Que normalmente comes en los Estados Unidos?" = "What do you normally eat in the US?"
This question, for me at least, is a hard one to answer. I have tried to explain to people that in a normal week I could ingest a vast variety of foods, anything from Italian, Mexican or Chinese... to hot dish, hamburgers, "Mac and Cheese" or pizza! The response I usually get is, "Yea, you could, but what do you normally eat?" and when I respond with "I guess I'm not quite sure" I get the Spanish look of "I can't believe you don't know what you eat..." because Spanish people know what they eat and they are proud of it!


What the Spanish do have down is a healthy, complete diet. Fruit is considered dessert after lunch and fresh salads filled with tomatoes, onions and olives topped with only olive oil and a splash of vinegar are common for starters, meaning vegetables and fruits are not an enemy but a friend. The kids at school eat full salads for lunch every day. Imagine, if instead of nasty bagged salad with withering radish and carrot slices drenched in ranch dressing served in public school lunches in the US, there were fresh salads with fresh veggies inside! And topped with only olive oil!! How can they do it?? Here in Spain, these things are affordable! Today I went to the market across the street from my place and bought 5 tomatoes, 3 bananas, 2 oranges, 2 small heads of lettuce, 4 full carrots and an onion for a whopping €3,50 (about $4). Oh, and olive oil? Being that Jaén is the largest olive oil producer in the world, 5 liters (well over a gallon) costs €12. Imagine how the rate of obese people in the US could drop if fruits and veggies and other healthy things were made affordable! Here in Spain, a bag of chips costs more than a bag of apples...

The other positive to the Spanish diet is eating a large meal in the middle of the day. This way, by the time "dinner" rolls around, you're still not even that hungry... and if you are hungry a yogurt or a fruit or a small bowl of cereal (although a Spanish person would not eat cereal after breakfast time, probably) will suffice to hold you over until breakfast the next day.

Oh, and how can I forget the wine. Wine is goooood n' cheap here. The most expensive bottle at my nearest supermarket is a massive 3€. My favorite wine moment in Jaén? I was at the grocery store and there is this elderly lady was in line in front of me to check out. She had a bottle of wine in hand and asked the man in front of her, "Is this a good bottle of wine?" "Yeah, for someone who likes regular wine, it's good," he responded. "Okay, I was just wondering, because this one is 2€, and I figured I could get one of the cheaper ones, you know, the ones that cost .60 cents, but I thought I would go for a nicer one instead... because it's a gift for someone." hehhee.

It's 2pm, and I already ate my lunch at 11am. I am not adapted to the Spanish eating schedule. Shame on me un-assimilated American, shame.

Francisco Franco, what a guy...

Since my arrival in Jaén, I have found that I thoroughly enjoy talking to people about social issues, whether it is history, tradition, or modern culture… in any and every form. Issues that creep into my conversations with Spaniards are national identity (or a lack of identifying with the nation), socialism, health care, immigration and Franco (the fascist dictator that ruled Spain for a whopping 40 years). I guess maybe I should have majored in social-science or history or something. I find all of these topics fascinating and I learn endless amounts of interesting things when I talk to people about it. I think today I’ll focus on my conversations with Spaniards on Franco. I’ll leave other themes for another day.

After a short but bloody civil war between the fascist “Nationalists” and the democratic/communist “Republicans” from 1936-1939, nationalist Francisco Franco took power of Spain. Franco was, for the next 40 years, a dictator: a fascist, nationalist, Catholic, military general who ruled until his death in 1975. After the civil war the Nationalist government started their revenge upon former Republicans… This included Republicans themselves, mere sympathizers to the Republicans, or even family members or descendants of Republicans. (Here, Republicans are liberal.) Now, this punishment came in many forms socially, both from the ruling fascists and between the Spanish people. Many “Republicans” couldn’t find a job because employers were either too afraid to hire them because of possible consequences, or didn’t want to hire them simply because of their past political views. Problems also existed with the police, as many “Republicans” were jailed or forced into exile. The Catholic Church played a pretty large role in the power of Franco both during and after the war as well, as there was no separation between Church and State. It is said that the Church ran orphanages during Franco’s rule where children of “Republicans” were sequestered and raised there, often suffering physical and sexual abuse. Your past political association also affected your food rationings. A republican past meant you were hungry. One night my friend Tomás commented that his Grandpa always eats his baguette bread dipped in wine, because not too long ago, all there was to eat was bread and wine. Women lost all the rights they were previously guaranteed in the more modern 1931 constitution. All political parties and political activism were outlawed during Franco. It was illegal to speak any language other than Spanish, which was specifically oppressive to the bilingual regions. In Catalonia they speak Catalan, in Galicia, Gallego and in Basque Country, Basque. There was even a law saying that no more than three people could talk in a group on the street at once. If there were four, you were yelled at and threatened by the police. It seems the sum of the story is: if your family was Republican, you suffered during Franco’s rule. If you were Nationalist or neutral, you lived just fine during his rule.

Upon his death in 1975, Spain made a pretty quick transition to democracy. At the time there was a really strange social-political agreement between the people of Spain and the government to “forget it” in order to move on quickly to democracy. Unlike the cultural-historical documentation on Nazi Germany and the Dirty War in Argentina, the Spanish Civil War and Dictatorship is still left unspoken within the family and the school system and not as well documented or well-known because of his unofficial pact of silence. It wasn’t until 2007 that the Spanish government formally denounced Franco and his regime. Along with denouncing the regime, the government promised to help dig up mass graves and put names to the thousands of unidentified bodies buried around Spain during the Civil War and the post-war times. I say “help” because the process is currently being carried out mostly by college student volunteers.

There were, and still are, many supporters of Franco. Franco and the Catholic Church worked together as a ruling entity during the dictatorship, and therefore religious people lived quite comfortably during the dictatorship. Throughout numerous weekend stops to the bar down the road with Tio Tony (“Uncle Tony,” Manuel’s uncle), I have discovered that he is one of many Franco supporters. He says Franco lifted up Spain, and even sports a photo of Franco on his cell. I read in a BBC article (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/5192228.stm) that 50% of Spaniards admit they haven’t spoken about Franco in the home, and 35% say they haven’t talked about it at school. When talking to teachers at my school, they admit that Franco and the civil war is not studied, and if it is studied, it’s a very brief overview that doesn’t speak of the horrors of the war or of the fascist regime.

Now, why is it that Franco remains unspoken, not studied, and not dealt with personally or within the Spanish family? There are honestly thousands of factors that would contribute to this social silence but I think there are still lots of living supporters of Franco and his ideology, which makes it a touchy subject to teach in school and to talk about within the family. Also, I'd kind of assume there is still a strange after-affect of fear lingering in society. Forty years is a long dictatorship and it affected a lot of people negatively while it affected others positively. Also, the “forget it” law passed after Franco died has held strong…. I am super curious to see if this unspoken war will soon appear in textbooks and museums and other public places. If it does, it will be fascinating to see how it is spoken about and what will be considered the "official" text-book history of what happened.

The most interesting and gossipy of all? Hitler was, rumor has it, once quoted calling Franco "crazy."

Cheste

A couple of weeks ago I headed to Cheste to visit my old host family from when I was in Spain in 8th grade. I thoroughly enjoy keeping in contact with old contacts. It's such an experience to go back and see people I met when I was only thirteen years old, all who remember me as "THE American girl that stayed with Maria Jose for a week nine years ago." My time there is marked by Maria Jose's baby cousin who was born the first time I was there and is now big nine year old girl! How strange... Time flieeeeessssssssss... and flies... and flies...! And the most surprising? To find a couple still dating from when they were 15 years old...