Day 12
Our red-eye
flight from Crete took a couple hours to drop us off in Barcelona where we
quickly transferred to reach Seville. We landed early in the morning and took a
shuttle bus into the center. The hostel was not difficult to find, but it was a
good walk from the main sites. We arrived well before check-in time so we had
to wait, but I used that time to ask the receptionist a bunch of questions
about the city. We grabbed an unhealthy breakfast from a mini-market that was
not nearly as helpful as the ones in Greece ending up with crackers and
pre-packaged pastries with a mystery creme filling. Our room was ready an hour
early so we decided to take a nap because we were both exhausted.
Around noon we headed off and right away realized that it was significantly hotter than it ever was in Greece. It was so hot that I went out of my way to stay in the shade from the buildings above whenever possible. The older heart of the city was full of plazas, trees, and shops. We passed by the cathedral before walking all around the Alcazar (castle) looking for the entrance and stopping through the university building that used to be a huge cigar factory. The building had several courtyards with fountains and broad staircases along with some bustle from students at work.
Upon reaching the Alcazar, we realized the entry fees had gone up significantly in just a year since my travel book was published. It was about 10 euros, as much as the Acropolis in Athens, but to see these sights and take in the history and culture was the main reason we were here. Although the outer facades and rooms built well after the Christian reconquest of the city were not impressive, the gardens and the Moorish sections of the palace made it well worth the entry fee.
For some crucial historical background, Muslim tribesman from North Africa crossed into Spain in 711 and quickly swept control away from the Visigoth Christian inhabitants. The invaders were eventually stopped at the Battle of Tours in France and left to establish Muslim Spain known as Al-Andalus. Over time, Muslim unity and power faded and the Christian princes in the north began a campaign to reclaim their former territory. The initial successes of the Christians were temporarily halted by two more waves of Berber invasions, but by the 13th century they gained the upper hand. It was not until 1492, after the marriage of Isabella and Ferdinand united Spain, that Granada, the last Muslim-ruled city in Spain, was reconquered bringing an end to over 7 centuries of warfare. This military tradition was then aimed at the New World as conquistadors plundered and enslaved the Native Americans.
The vast gardens, a Spanish staple, displayed a variety of rich colors and flora complimented by beautiful fountains. The middle section was separated by a wall with an arched walkway and included a waterfall spitting from the wall above and a hydraulic organ fountain that played a tune every hour based on the flow of the water. Then we entered the Moorish courtyards and rooms that immediately struck us with the quintessential allure of delicate architectural and culture that was the treasure of southern Spain. We walked slowly through the rooms taking pictures from all angles and then lingered for an hour to take intricate details and curves surrounding us.
Having spent several hours, it was now late afternoon so we decided to return to our hostel catch a flamenco show. We chose one that seemed professional yet reasonable and trudged our way back toward the city-center. Flamenco is a dance native to Andalucia that was born out of struggles and passion of the Roma community. There were five performers: one played guitar, two of them clapped and sang, and two of them danced. The show started slowly with instrumentals followed by soul-stirring song, and finished with a crescendo of clapping and dancing. The two dancers, one girl and one guy, were full of expression and energy and their movements and tapping were very impressive. The whole performance seemed partly improvised as they shouted out things like "baile" and looked to each other for what would come next. That night, we grabbed some pinchos and beer followed by an Egyptian kebab sandwich that we split on the way back to our hostel.
Around noon we headed off and right away realized that it was significantly hotter than it ever was in Greece. It was so hot that I went out of my way to stay in the shade from the buildings above whenever possible. The older heart of the city was full of plazas, trees, and shops. We passed by the cathedral before walking all around the Alcazar (castle) looking for the entrance and stopping through the university building that used to be a huge cigar factory. The building had several courtyards with fountains and broad staircases along with some bustle from students at work.
Upon reaching the Alcazar, we realized the entry fees had gone up significantly in just a year since my travel book was published. It was about 10 euros, as much as the Acropolis in Athens, but to see these sights and take in the history and culture was the main reason we were here. Although the outer facades and rooms built well after the Christian reconquest of the city were not impressive, the gardens and the Moorish sections of the palace made it well worth the entry fee.
For some crucial historical background, Muslim tribesman from North Africa crossed into Spain in 711 and quickly swept control away from the Visigoth Christian inhabitants. The invaders were eventually stopped at the Battle of Tours in France and left to establish Muslim Spain known as Al-Andalus. Over time, Muslim unity and power faded and the Christian princes in the north began a campaign to reclaim their former territory. The initial successes of the Christians were temporarily halted by two more waves of Berber invasions, but by the 13th century they gained the upper hand. It was not until 1492, after the marriage of Isabella and Ferdinand united Spain, that Granada, the last Muslim-ruled city in Spain, was reconquered bringing an end to over 7 centuries of warfare. This military tradition was then aimed at the New World as conquistadors plundered and enslaved the Native Americans.
The vast gardens, a Spanish staple, displayed a variety of rich colors and flora complimented by beautiful fountains. The middle section was separated by a wall with an arched walkway and included a waterfall spitting from the wall above and a hydraulic organ fountain that played a tune every hour based on the flow of the water. Then we entered the Moorish courtyards and rooms that immediately struck us with the quintessential allure of delicate architectural and culture that was the treasure of southern Spain. We walked slowly through the rooms taking pictures from all angles and then lingered for an hour to take intricate details and curves surrounding us.
Having spent several hours, it was now late afternoon so we decided to return to our hostel catch a flamenco show. We chose one that seemed professional yet reasonable and trudged our way back toward the city-center. Flamenco is a dance native to Andalucia that was born out of struggles and passion of the Roma community. There were five performers: one played guitar, two of them clapped and sang, and two of them danced. The show started slowly with instrumentals followed by soul-stirring song, and finished with a crescendo of clapping and dancing. The two dancers, one girl and one guy, were full of expression and energy and their movements and tapping were very impressive. The whole performance seemed partly improvised as they shouted out things like "baile" and looked to each other for what would come next. That night, we grabbed some pinchos and beer followed by an Egyptian kebab sandwich that we split on the way back to our hostel.
Day 13
We slept in and then I began to look ahead in our itinerary to figure out the next several days. After making some inquiries, getting to and back from Morocco looked like it was going to be more difficult than originally hoped and I wrestled with how to approach this issue. After a couple hours, I was losing hope that it would fit into our itinerary, but after discussing it with Hans, we decided to go for it and figure things out as we went. I bought and cooked us brunch while Hans continued to journal and upload photos. Just in time we discovered that the cathedral close very early so we hurried back to the center to finish the sights.
The cathedral had a massive sanctuary with mighty soaring pillars. The tomb of Christopher Columbus was guarded by four iron soldiers. Frustratingly, both the main altar and the reliquary which were regarded among the finest in Europe were both closed. My enjoyment was jaded by the frustrating limitations of the day, but climbing the bell tower to look over the church and the orange-tree courtyard with the city sprawling beyond was a great view point.
We left the church heading towards the river and walked around the bullring then down to the Golden Tower. This watchtower helped guard the ships loaded with treasures from the New World coming up the Guadalquivir into the heart of Seville. Inside was a naval museum containing models of the ships from Columbus' first voyage. Next, we continued south to the city park surrounding the Plaza de Espana that was framed by a massive cresent-shaped building. There was a central fountain flanked by a waterway with row boats passing under the arches of several bridges.This plaza was built to showcase the glory of Spain for the 1929 world fair held in Seville. It is likely that this project helped to bankrupt the country contributing to the Spanish civil war before WWII. The building was stunning in its design and detail that exhibited the fusion of styles that make Spain so dynamic and was so large that it could not fit into a panorama shot.
To finish the day, we again lingered as the sun set taking in the square from different perspectives. We slowly explored the streets looking for a good food or flamenco offer, decided to seek direction at the hostel, then found our way to a bar with a free show after using a "little maneuver from the Battle of Taanab." With that quote from Star Wars, I will take this opportunity to mention some of the saying that were abused on our trip. "Why didn't you say so before...I did say so before; It's over, I have the high ground; My friend doesn't like you...I don't like you either; Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see; That's a good sales strategy; Let's go away for a while, you and I, on a Holiday; dropkick...; Neo...da-nah-nah-nah-nah...sporin; and Dude, no."
The show was notably less professional and less intense than the other, but it was still full of emotion and it was good to have another perspective. While we were watching and talking, I was scoping out the scene as normal and was noticing a lot of interesting dynamics. When I told Hans about some of these things he told me I needed to go into the army because of the way my mind works confirming my notion that I would have been a good soldier if I was not an ardent pacifist. The only observation of note was that there were two girls who kept staring at us...eventually this played itself out as they approached us and told us they interested in where we were from because they heard us speaking English, which is actually fairly rare in southern Spain. Turns out they were part of a six-credit masters ESL program where all they did was travel around in Spain for three weeks, spending most of their nights drinking with their professor. Quite a demanding educational program.
Day 14
The next morning we packed up, check-out, and asked about getting to the bus station. The hostel worker told us it was much quicker to take the city bus, so we did. It was a good walk to get to the stop, several minutes before the bus came, and then it was painfully slow in traffic and stopping everywhere. We arrived just at our bus just at departure time and ran in figuring we would catch it, but it was not there. No, it was not a time change, it had actually left early. I had never seen a bus even leave right on time before, not to mention early, so needless to say we were frustrated with the situation and ourselves for somehow missing another bus. The next one did not leave for over four hours which would really kill us considering we were already short on time. I fumbled around in the ticket lines trying to gather information from people who mostly did not speak English and eventually formulated a plan. We would switch our itinerary by taking the soon departing bus to Ronda, running through there in a couple hours, then make our way down to the coast for one of the last ferries across to Morocco that day.
The next morning we packed up, check-out, and asked about getting to the bus station. The hostel worker told us it was much quicker to take the city bus, so we did. It was a good walk to get to the stop, several minutes before the bus came, and then it was painfully slow in traffic and stopping everywhere. We arrived just at our bus just at departure time and ran in figuring we would catch it, but it was not there. No, it was not a time change, it had actually left early. I had never seen a bus even leave right on time before, not to mention early, so needless to say we were frustrated with the situation and ourselves for somehow missing another bus. The next one did not leave for over four hours which would really kill us considering we were already short on time. I fumbled around in the ticket lines trying to gather information from people who mostly did not speak English and eventually formulated a plan. We would switch our itinerary by taking the soon departing bus to Ronda, running through there in a couple hours, then make our way down to the coast for one of the last ferries across to Morocco that day.
That is how
things played out. We drove for the first time through the beautiful
countryside of Andalucía. The landscape was arid, but still had a lot of green
with an occasional white-washed hilltop town. We arrived at Ronda, what I had
chosen as the most beautiful and dramatic of these towns, and wasted no time in
making our way to the old town. We aligned our exit strategy by buying our
train tickets and stored our luggage across the street at a hotel.
Unburdened, we walked to the bullring, considered the most beautiful and dangerous in Spain, to the Puente Nuevo, the visual highlight and crossing point into the old town. This bridge feels like it must be from some fantasy world as it spans over a 400 ft. deep chasm with a waterfall descending from its foundations. The sheer cliffs on either side assure a once-and-done fall, and the room below the bridge surface was actually used as a prison and torture chamber because of this glaring possibility.
We got several views from the top of the bridge and chasm below before venturing into the old town and finding a path down one side of the chasm for a head-on view of the bridge. This was a truly magnificent scale, and if we had more time we would have so loved climbing around the chasm because there were iron ladder rungs driven into the rock allowing you to climb down further. But alas, time constraints forced us to be less adventurous so we walked along the path under the bridge and then back up to the old town. We walked around the cobblestone streets through twisting rows of white buildings and found a small plaza mayor with a church and town hall before working our way back to the bridge, to the hotel to retrieve our bags, and onto our train which of course was quite late...whatever is most inconvenient, so shall it be.
The train sliced through the beautiful countryside running along a gorge most of the way to Algeciras, or, as Hans liked to say, “Algae Circus”. After arriving at the station, we crossed the street to the bus station and hopped on the shuttle bus to Tarifa that went every half hour. The bus climbed up into the hills and we saw a broad mountain rising from the sea that we figured was Gibraltar, the tiny peninsula jutting out from Spain still considered a British territory. However, as we entered Tarifa and saw the coastline below us, we realized we were looking across the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Neither of us thought it was possible to see so clearly across, but it seemed that on a clear day, anyone could monitor all activity on the Straight from a lookout.
We were dropped off at a shack away from the center, so we asked directions and walked quickly toward the port. This town was full of extreme sports enthusiasts and shops as apparently it is a great place to windsurf. We soon found an office for the ferry company we were looking for (for some reason the only company to run a ferry direct to Tangier port rather than the new massive commercial port far to the east called Tangier Med) and bought tickets for a ferry that was scheduled to depart in five minutes. Tightening our packs as we left, we ran down the hill to the dock and were the last ones to board. There were not any great observation areas so we settled for a small open-air deck in the corner often pounded by black smoke from the exhaust. The customs form and check was done on board and it was not very tedious since so many people cross the Strait regularly. The journey took about 35 minutes. Tangier was set on a promontory jutting out before the coast headed south with sprawling resorts expanding to the east.
Unburdened, we walked to the bullring, considered the most beautiful and dangerous in Spain, to the Puente Nuevo, the visual highlight and crossing point into the old town. This bridge feels like it must be from some fantasy world as it spans over a 400 ft. deep chasm with a waterfall descending from its foundations. The sheer cliffs on either side assure a once-and-done fall, and the room below the bridge surface was actually used as a prison and torture chamber because of this glaring possibility.
We got several views from the top of the bridge and chasm below before venturing into the old town and finding a path down one side of the chasm for a head-on view of the bridge. This was a truly magnificent scale, and if we had more time we would have so loved climbing around the chasm because there were iron ladder rungs driven into the rock allowing you to climb down further. But alas, time constraints forced us to be less adventurous so we walked along the path under the bridge and then back up to the old town. We walked around the cobblestone streets through twisting rows of white buildings and found a small plaza mayor with a church and town hall before working our way back to the bridge, to the hotel to retrieve our bags, and onto our train which of course was quite late...whatever is most inconvenient, so shall it be.
The train sliced through the beautiful countryside running along a gorge most of the way to Algeciras, or, as Hans liked to say, “Algae Circus”. After arriving at the station, we crossed the street to the bus station and hopped on the shuttle bus to Tarifa that went every half hour. The bus climbed up into the hills and we saw a broad mountain rising from the sea that we figured was Gibraltar, the tiny peninsula jutting out from Spain still considered a British territory. However, as we entered Tarifa and saw the coastline below us, we realized we were looking across the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Neither of us thought it was possible to see so clearly across, but it seemed that on a clear day, anyone could monitor all activity on the Straight from a lookout.
We were dropped off at a shack away from the center, so we asked directions and walked quickly toward the port. This town was full of extreme sports enthusiasts and shops as apparently it is a great place to windsurf. We soon found an office for the ferry company we were looking for (for some reason the only company to run a ferry direct to Tangier port rather than the new massive commercial port far to the east called Tangier Med) and bought tickets for a ferry that was scheduled to depart in five minutes. Tightening our packs as we left, we ran down the hill to the dock and were the last ones to board. There were not any great observation areas so we settled for a small open-air deck in the corner often pounded by black smoke from the exhaust. The customs form and check was done on board and it was not very tedious since so many people cross the Strait regularly. The journey took about 35 minutes. Tangier was set on a promontory jutting out before the coast headed south with sprawling resorts expanding to the east.
During the
short journey between continents everything changed. The city looked worn down
and lacking any planning. The people had darker, more weathered skin and spoke
Arabic. Things were less organized and were governed by a different set of
cultural norms. It seemed time stood still during our journey to Tarifa then to
Tangier because it worked out that there is a two-hour time change backward
during the summer.
Glad to be
away from money scavengers, we explored the streets as the sun set. To our
surprise, we discovered that there was only one main street with tourist cafes
and fruit or vegetable stands. It seemed to be at a low-time with few tourists
in sight. We bought some dates and nuts in a shop then walked up the street out
of the old city to a church on the hill top catching a partial glimpse over the
old city. It was difficult to find a way back into the old part, which showed a
lack of consistent street planning. By the time we returned, darkness had
fallen and the streets were nearly abandoned. We realized that during Ramadan,
the people would fast during the daytime and wait until the sun went down to go
home to eat with their families.
We left an
overpriced restaurant and found a hole in the wall and stumbled through
communication with the man that we could get soup, bread, and tea for very
cheap. Because Morocco was colonized by the French, many of the local people
speak French in addition to Arabic but most do not speak English. He brought over
two bowls of steaming pea soup that was very good and I copied a Moroccan man
who put chili powder in the soup to make it scrumptious. He brought over the
tea just as my mouth was screaming from the spice. I instantly recognized the
taste from my time in Egypt and Jordan where the tea is served very sweet and
with mint leaves.
Hans and I
wanted to see more of the old city, so we wandered through the dark and empty
streets with all the buildings closed up feeling like members of a strike
squad. There were two young men standing outside and they asked what we were
doing and told us the streets were dangerous at this time and that we should
stay to eat with them. We decided against it, told them we would be careful,
and found our way through the twisting streets to the fortress we had seen from
across the city. We passed under the main wall and out onto the old battlements
that included some huge canons facing the harbor. After taking in this
nighttime perspective, we headed back to the main street and entered another
restaurant where the waiter offered a sample dish of the many traditional foods
that the people ate during Ramadan. There was stuffed fish, couscous, sliced
potatoes, dates, and hard-boiled eggs.
As we ate,
there was a call to prayer on the television showing the words in Arabic with
nature scenes as the background. This came in the middle of an Arabic show
where all the main characters were ladies dressed modestly yet with colorful Bollywood-esque
style while several men were depicted as silly or stubborn providing comedic
relief. I found this a valuable perspective into the changing culture where
women were growing in their privileges and standing often becoming
well-educated professionals, while the men are often holding on to the ways of
the past and may be seen as lazy or stubborn.
After
finishing we headed back to our hostel amidst streets that were populated again
by locals who came out after eating at home. We braved our bathroom containing
a Turkish squatter toilet with a hose for flushing. The shower was filthy and
freezing because there was no heat, but I felt good afterwards. There was a
terrace on the roof from where you could see most of the other buildings had
terraces allowing you to partially navigate the city by climbing around the rooftops.
We were tired and it seemed late because of the time change, so we decided to
go to bed and wake up early to explore more of the city in the morning.
Day 15
Having no
tour book for Morocco, I had no idea what was there and where to go, but we
forged a new path and eventually saw signs directing us toward the Kasbah. I
was excited because we would get to “rock the Kasbah” as confusingly proclaimed
by the Clash. The buildings seemed to be getting older were painted according
to street. There was blue, red, green, and orange streets decked with arches,
hanging carpets, plants, ornate doors, and lots of cats. We were glad we
decided to explore more because this was the most beautiful part of the old
city and it reminded us of Jerusalem. Then we arrived at the Kasbah, which
turned out to be the Arabic name for citadel, composed of an inner gate and
wall at the highpoint of the old city just like a Greek acropolis.
Unfortunately, there was not really anything to climb up on or go inside, so we
soon headed back to the hostel to grab our packs and made our way back to the
port to catch a ferry back to Spain.
The young
woman at the ticket booth was an example of the evolving culture that I
mentioned in relation to the TV show. We chatted for a bit and I learned that
she spoke excellent English, was single, a college graduate, and a descendent
from the traditional Berber people. I asked if she would have an arranged
marriage and she responded “No, we are not like what you think. Many people in
Morocco are now open-minded like the rest of the world.” I asked if her parents
were an arranged marriage, and she said yes. I found it interesting how she
seemed to label the Arabic/Islamic traditions of the older generations as
closed-minded. It is likely that people practiced arranged marriage because
they believed it was best in their context, not simply because they rejected
other ideas. I would have liked to push her on this oversimplification, but we
had a ferry to catch.
That morning
it was hazy and cloudy so we definitely could not see across the straits. We
crossed in much the same way we had passed before and we were pleasantly
surprised to be greeted by a free shuttle bus back to Algeciras. This time we
were unable to see the mountain across the sea but we did identify Gibraltar.
One board, I met a mission man with his family who were on a vacation/missions
trip supporting an organization that helps recent migrants from North Africa
who are struggling to start a life in Spain. We talked about culture and
missions, so it was nice to connect about the recent work being done.
We arrived
at the port of Algeciras, so we had to find our way across the streets to the
bus station. This was an industrial port town with little of interest so all we
stopped for on the way was to grab two wonderful falafel gyros. Unfortunately,
we had to wait for an hour and a half for the next bus to Malaga. Hans went out
shopping with no success while I stayed at the station holding our bags,
reading, and observing some of the classic characters including a guy who sat
down next to everyone to joke about something before asking for a cigarette.
The bus to
Malaga was hot enough for me to sweat making it difficult to sleep. Upon
arrival, we learned that we had another 80 minutes until our bus left for Granada,
so we decided to quickly venture into the city-center. It took much longer to
reach the center than we thought meaning that as soon as we reached the
Cathedral, we had to turn back. Unable to leave our packs at the station, our
frantic walk was exhausting and would leave our legs sore for the next several
days. While limited, this venture did give us an opportunity to take in the
feeling of a modern city in Spain and gain perspective on popular culture.
Hans and I
acknowledged that Spanish women were one of the most strikingly and
consistently beautiful female populations in the world with tanned skin and
prominent features. Revealing, ripped, or draping clothes, glasses, piercings,
tattoos, and unique hairstyles featuring one shaved side of the head were all
in style. There were tons of groups of young people walking or loitering in the
streets not paying attention to those around them. They were usually loud and
tangibly resisted their socialization into a “professional” lifestyle. In
Greece, there was 60% unemployment for people under 30 and, while the economic
climate in Spain was less severe, this was manifested through a growing
sub-culture, particularly among the youth. This group questioned authority and
the establishment resulting in anarchy-themed graffiti covering the subways and
buildings; since education no longer seemed to lead directly to a job, they resisted
it along with conformity to related patterns of behavior; having lost hope in
the “system”, they seemed to value relationships and interactions with a
diversity of people very highly. This is a poignant example of how connected
economic and political conditions can be with the development of culture.
We reached
our bus and traveled through beautiful countryside that was growing greener as
we climbed in elevation with the Sierra Nevada’s rising in the distance. We took
a local bus into the center and hopped off near our hostel after catching a
glimpse of the Cathedral. We checked in and found a wonderful mini-market where
we got all the fixins and ate in the shaded square where thousands of birds all
of a sudden starting going crazy at dusk. Hans and I debated equipping
ourselves with armor and swords from local shops in order to fend off the avian
apocalypse. We printed our ticket reservations for the Alhambra and then found
a street full of bars and Moorish-style shops. We bought some kaffiyehs then
got a drink with free tapas at two different bars before returning to our
hostel. Back in our room we had a long
laugh when the ladder on the bunk-bed loudly crashed to the floor after I
pushed it with my foot while asking Hans if it could be removed. We had our
answer likely at the cost of disturbing the sleep of others.
Day 16
In the
morning, we walked up through the city to the Alhambra where we had an entry
time of 10am into the Nasrid Palaces (the highlight of the sight). We were
supposed to have a half-hour window to visit the palaces in an effort to
control the over 3 million people who visit the sight every year. However, Hans
and I quickly noticed there was no easy way to identify and push visitors
through so we lingered in the halls of the Moorish palaces for hours. The first
of the great courtyards had a long pool with a fountain and seven delicately
pillars on either side meant to represent paradise. The most famous courtyard contained
the original fountain propped up by 12 lion statues surrounded by
intricately-carved pillared walkways that resembled the halls of elves. We
stood at different places throughout this courtyard taking in the overwhelming
amount of effort behind the artwork and waiting for hordes of tourists to pass
by so we could take pictures. Throughout the palaces, it was incredible how
every surface was beautiful and unique including walls, floors, and ceilings.
After exiting
the Nasrid Palaces, we visited the palace of Carlos V, which was a two tiered
colonnade surrounding an open circular courtyard (like a small coliseum). Hans
and I took some more disruptive jumping time-shots before visiting the small museum
with Bobadil the Moor’s sword on site then exiting to visit the Alcazar. The
towers and ramparts still mostly intact on this old castle perked our sense of
adventure as we imagined being stationed there hundreds of years ago. We
lingered on the tower that most protruded itself out into the valley and city
below for half an hour to take in one of my favorite 360 degree views. There
were panorama shots aplenty with the castle ruins and the palaces behind framed
by rolling hills, the white-capped Sierra Nevada’s in the distance, the
white-washed city built in tiers on the slopes below and the wonderful
Andalucian countryside beyond. There was also the flagpole where the flag of
Spain was raised after Granada was captured by Ferdinand and Isabella in
January 1492 signifying the end of the Reconquista.
On our way
out of the Alcazar we wandered about this main area of the Alhambra complex
through fountained gardens, a Moorish bathhouse, and an old convent that was
turned into a luxurious hotel. We then crossed to the upper part of the complex
containing a vast, organized gardens with trickling pools, shaped hedgerows,
and massive roses. We approached to enter the Generalife palaces when the guard
informed us that our visitation window had expired so we could not visit. We
were confused because we thought there was only a time limitation on the Nasrid
Palaces, but there was also a morning and afternoon division. Since we had seen
all the highlights, my frustration was limited but Hans was furious as the this
misfortune was piled on top of all the others we had already experienced. He
wanted to climb over walls and sneak in, but I convinced him it was not worth
it so we made our way out of the Alhambra.
The twisting
alternate path back down had drainage troughs cut all the way down fed by a
spring, so we found some leaves and sticks and enjoyed the epic race as they
floated down the trough and passed impending obstacles. Once we reached the
cobblestone streets, we stopped in at a couple shops and found a guy on the
streets who wrote our names in Arabic script on parchment before returning to
the city-center. Needing to rest and refuel to continue on our long day, we
found our mini-market and indulged in another feast in the shaded square near
our hostel. There were two girls eating nearby who seemed to be talking about
us, so I stared at them until they addressed us. They were both American
college students who were hired as escorts to a group of high-school students
that were on a several week tour of Spain apparently focused on learning the
Spanish language. Being paid by a tour company to travel while you supervised a
group of students sounds like quite the gig.
After
resting our full stomachs, we visited the Capilla Real or royal chapel where
Ferdinand and Isabella were entombed. The chapel contained a large painted
altarpiece and carved reliefs of the royal family as displayed before burial
with steps leading down to the iron-caskets below. We returned to the Arabesque
street to look at more wares and then found the old gate marking the entrance
to the Aybazin or Muslim quarter. We made our way up the winding streets lined
with houses, cafes, and churches. Using our map we found a church with a
lookout that we paid to climb up and it was worth it for one of the best views
of the town and the Alhambra perched on the opposite hill as the sun began to
set.
Unable to do
anything halfway, we decided to climb all the way up the hill to San Miguel
Alto. We paused for a couple different lookouts as the lighting changed before
rising out of the town and up the dirt path to the church where many locals had
now gathered with their dogs to watch the sunset. We sat on the wall as night
fell, the moon rose, and the lights of the city came alive. I tried to soak in
the complexities of Granada as the darkness stirred new feelings while thinking
about the words of local poet Federico Lorca who was assassinated by
nationalists during the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War.
“Your elegy,
Granada, is spoken by the stars,
which from
the heavens perforate your black heart.
It is spoken
by the lost horizon of your valley,
it is
repeated solemnly by the ivy that yields
to the
silent caress of the old tower.
You, city of
dreams and of the full moon,
which
harbored gigantic passions of love
that have
since died, rest on red hills
with the
sorrowful accent of the sweet nightingale
among the
aged ivy of your ruins.”
Yet the
night was only just beginning. Hans and I descended back through the streets
with a sequence of lively crowded squares followed by quiet, dark alleys.
Eventually, we were back to the warm glow of the main Moorish street where we
gorged on a large pizza and a beer before scouting out the teterias (tearooms)
before settling on one to relax in late into the night. There were several
shadowy rooms divided by carved wooden screens each with their own low table
surrounded by seats cushioned by an assortment of embroidered pillows. We sat
in the main room at a table across from the bar and ordered apple flavored
hookah along with hand-pressed teas containing nectarine, hibiscus, ginger, chamomile,
mint, and pomegranate loaded with sugar cubes. We slowly sipped and smoked
during our lazy conversation allowing ourselves to be lulled into leisure by
the swelling fragrances and winking lanterns.
Day 17
Being fed up
with missing buses, we gave ourselves extra time to get up, eat, and take a
local bus to the bus station, but the traffic was terrible making our hearts
pound. We arrived at the station a couple minutes before departure time so I
sent Hans to get the tickets while I held the bus until I arrived by standing
outside acting stressed saying that my friend was in the bathroom. Hans came a
couple minutes after departure and it turned out that we needed to buy tickets
on the bus because we were late, but we were off. The bus was hot because the
AC was broken, so we were sweating as we slowly climbed up in elevation to
hills covered with olive trees and into Cordoba. We walked into the old city
and located the Alcazar, which we debated going into because it looked lame in
comparison to others we had seen. The rooms by the entrance built later by the
Christians were very disappointing, but I received a jolt of delight when I wandered
out into the extensive palace gardens full of colorful flowers packed closely
together. After strolling through, I continued up to the ramparts to stumble
upon Hans who seemed quite pleased. There was a great lookout tower and a dark
pigeon-infested room with a powerful Gothic-style vaulted ceiling where we
lingered for a good while trying to take timed shots after we discovered that I
could blast Hans with rays of light streaming from one of the window slits.
Many of the
other sights seemed to close early, so we walked through the Jewish quarter and
caught a glimpse of the old Sephardic synagogue (one of 4 remaining in Spain)
before slipping into the Sephardic museum just before it closed. One of the
workers mentioned that there are more French tourists to Andalucía than
English-speaking tourists. This explained why many people at sites or in
hostels did not speak English well unlike in Greece where everyone seemed to
speak English. The museum was housed in a restored Jewish house and was designed
to promote awareness of Sephardic culture, so they allowed us to visit at our own
pace without being pushed out. There was exhibits on the Inquisition, Jewish
practices, gold weaving, and we both surprised to find out that the hand symbol
containing an eye, known as Hamsa, has been incorporated into Jewish
(representing the hand of Miriam), Muslim, and even Christian traditions in
much of the Middle East and North Africa. I had always understood these totems
of “the all-seeing eye” to be a pagan superstition used to thwart evil, but
this is another example for how much culture, religion, and worldview are
intertwined and even inseparable.
By the time
we got out we were very hungry, but we realized that everything was either
closed or closing early because it was Sunday. We looked for a reasonable place
to eat, but the only thing open was a tourist restaurant with expensive
entrees. With a lot of daylight left, we wandered around Cordoba to get a feel
for the city and to find areas to explore. But we were exhausted, and just as
hope of finding a meal seemed to fade, we were rescued by a Subway. Never have
I been so excited to “eat fresh” as we both savored our reasonable 12’ hoagies.
Next, we meandered in the orange tree courtyard of the Mezquita before crossing
the long bridge over the Guadalquivir River that dated back to Roman times.
Fortunately, this slower day allowed us to go to bed early and catch up on
sleep.
Day 18
Our bus for
Madrid was leaving around 10:00 in the morning, so we had to quickly execute
our plan to check out of our room and visit the Mezquita for free during the
8:00 morning visit before running back to the hostel to grab our packs and
running to the station to catch the bus. The Mezquita, far and beyond the
highlight of Cordoba, is a massive Cathedral built over and incorporated into a
breath-taking medieval mosque. This mosque is renowned for its countless rows
of delicate red and white striped double archways supporting massive indoor
space that would have seemed out of this world to any Christian visiting this
site during the European dark ages. At the front of the church is the beautiful
gold-adorned space of the old mosque’s Mihrab facing east toward Mecca (and
Jerusalem). The space is full of unique chapels and halls where the fusion of
styles is breathtaking. You simply need to look at my pictures because no
description will do it justice.
Upon being
ushered out at 9:00 wishing we could remain longer, we followed the plan and
arrived at the bus station in plenty of time only to find out that the station was
packed and our bus was already full and we would have to wait 4 hours for the
next bus. We tried to sneak on by putting our bags under the bus and handing
our tickets to see if the driver would skim over the time, but naturally he saw
it and told us we were on the wrong bus, so we acted surprised and frustrated
and got our bags. We considered taking the train to Madrid, but dismissed that
idea when we found out it cost 80 euros a person. We walked back into town and
this was one of many times throughout the trip where we stopped at a toy store
to check for Hans’ mini-figures, but they didn’t have any, so we decided to drown
our sorrows by shoving our faces. There was an amazing market where we used a
shopping cart and bought several bags worth of food then sat down in the park
for our largest meal yet. We talked for a while and I had to lay down because I
was too stuffed to move before deciding to find some internet access. It took
directions from several people before we found an internet café where we spent
nearly an hour transferring photos, emailing, and looking ahead. Feeling like
we had taken advantage of our time we headed back and caught our long bus to
Madrid because there was no direct route to Toledo.
Leaving Andalucía
for central Spain, we drove through the countryside of La Mancha that is known
for its rolling plains and windmills featured in Don Quixote. Upon arrival, we
had to quickly get our bearings and transfer to another station by taking the
subway in order to catch a bus to Toledo. Over the next couple of days we would
be traveling in several places Hans had visited before after our semester in
Jerusalem. The old city of Toledo is majestically perched high on a hill above
the river and the surrounding countryside, but the bus station was at the
bottom, so we climbed up to the top enjoying the views as the sun began to set.
A strange lady checked us into our surprisingly nice hostel and Hans got an inconspicuous
photo of her by pretending to be taking pictures of the Lego characters he was
fooling around with. The hostel had an awesome rooftop terrace where we
indulged in the beautiful rooftop panorama.
Hoping to
get a feel for the city and map our route for the morning, we wandered through
the city as night fell. We really enjoyed the different vibe of the quiet city
at night and there were sweet laser lights shown on the ground to inform us
when we were entering the Jewish quarter and more framing the façade of a
church so it looked like the illuminated Dwarven door into Moria. Before bed we
ordered a super-large pizza to hold us over and to serve as our breakfast in
the morning and grabbed some beers while we waited.
Day 19
In the
morning we retraced our steps back to the Jewish quarter to visit one of the
three old synagogues in the city, which together with the one in Cordoba are
the only Sephardic synagogues remaining in Spain. It contained a large main
hall with intricately carved walls and ceilings that resembled Moorish art, but
was markedly unique showing the distinctive Jewish culture that existed. The synagogue
also functioned as a museum giving a summary of Jewish history with many
artifacts including one of the ancient mother-goddess statues that we had
become familiar with at JUC. We attempted to skim through the museum before
making our way back to the center of town stopping at several shops along the
way looking at swords. Hans had bought a sword on his last trip here that was
supposed to be a replica of El Cid’s sword, but when he showed the sword in one
of the many sword shops in Toledo, I mentioned that the blade seemed too long
and advanced for the 11th century.
The
Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo is massive and is hard to get a good
perspective of because it is smushed by the buildings surrounding it without
any open square usually present around Cathedrals. During the middle ages,
Toledo was the military and religious center of Spain giving it a very
intimidating stature that complimented its physical position. The Cathedral was
built to show the might of Spain and the Catholic Church and continues to
intimidate to this day because of its high visiting fee. This Cathedral was
also the seat of the Bishop of Toledo who is elevated in position above the
other bishops in the same way the bishop of Rome is elevated as Pope. The gothic
ceiling soared high above, there was a massive altarpiece, several El Greco
paintings, and an intricate apse of sunlight statues adorning the walls. In the
reliquary was the Great Monstrance of Arfe that took seven years to complete, contains
over 200 kilograms of gold and silver, and is said to contain the first gold
brought back by Columbus from the New World.
We exited
the church and headed up the hill to the Alcazar to visit the massive military museum
contained inside. There had been a stronghold built on the hill since Roman
times, but the current building was built in the 16th century, after most of
the castles in Spain built during the Reconquista, so it looks more modern. We
had about three hours before we needed to board our bus so we moved fairly
quickly through exhibits where we could have spent all day. The displays and
information were overwhelming including: vast collections of assorted weaponry
and cannons, flags, figurines, descriptions of all the wars in Spanish history
after the Catholic Monarchs, models of fortifications, breakdowns of different unit
tactics, and artifacts from the new world. We were both disappointed that the museum
did not cover the Reconquista and there were no swords old enough to compare
with the curiously rapier-like craftsmanship of El Cid’s sword, although in
Madrid we did see a comparable hilt from a couple decades later.
After less
than 24 hours in Toledo it was time to grab our packs and descend the hill down
to the bus station and return to Madrid. Once again, we had to transfer
stations in Madrid where we switched back and forth using up our couple minutes
of internet before boarding our bus up to Salamanca. The countryside was not as
beautiful as Andalucía although we did catch a very short glimpse at the ridiculously
well-preserved and formidable walls surrounding the town of Avila. In the
outskirts of Salamanca there were a few wonderful glimpses across the river to
a city with several imposing buildings jutting out from the rooftops. We instantly
noticed that the city was livelier because it is still one of the premier
university towns in Spain.
We walked into
the old city as darkness began to veil our surroundings. We strolled around for
a while to get a feel for the city and marveled at how many impressive
churches, universities, and town hall buildings there were all packed into a
relatively small area. It took us a while to find our hostel because the
address was inexact, but as we came down the street the sign for our Erasmus
hostel lit up as if to greet us. Erasmus was perhaps the most important
intellectual during the Renaissance because he traveled across Europe spreading
the newest ideas through writing and speech. He traveled to Salamanca because
it was the intellectual center of Spain for centuries during the middle ages.
After
unloading our stuff, Hans and I walked to the famous Plaza Mayor which is
considered the most beautiful in Spain. The square is completely surrounded by
a uniform frame of buildings with underpasses at the entryways. When we emerged
into the square it did not disappoint. The square was glowing as there was a
light between each of the thousands of windows on the buildings framing the
outside. There was a lively student band playing and rousing the audience with jubilant
energy and there were hundreds of people sitting in the square and at the cafes
along the outside. We soaked in the vibes of the plaza and naturally took
several timed shots before locating an affordable bar just off one of the
underpasses where we sat for a beer and a generous portion of jamon. This dry-cured
Spanish ham is considered one of the country’s finest delicacies. It was a
wonderful way to finish the evening while taking in the energy of the moment,
but Hans became quite exhaustedly giddy from the alcohol since he had felt sick
that day so had eaten very little.
Day 20
In the
morning, we eventually located the partner establishment where every inch of
wall and ceiling space covered with decorations. Here we received a free
English-style breakfast of tea, toast, and jam leaving something to be desired.
We made our way to the historic and still functioning university of Salamanca
that was originally founded in 1134. Unfortunately, visits to the historic
campus where not free but cost over 10 euros. We debated going in, Hans decided
against it but offered to spot me a few euros to make me feel better about
visiting and so that I could take pictures while he ran around the rooftops of
the city. Although nothing stunning, I was glad I toured the university because
it gave me a different historical perspective and I was walking on stones that
many great Spaniards had graced before me. I paused in several preserved classrooms;
one had wooden desks where students throughout the centuries had carved their
names. The highlight was the old library, but I could only see it from a
plastic enclosed viewing area. This library, featured in the wonderful
documentary “Germs, Guns, and Steel”, was where many of the early maps and
descriptions of the New World were held including Cortez’s account of the Aztec
conquest. It was interesting to see how misshapen the early maps where because they
had no idea what was beyond the discovered islands and coast.
After
leaving the university I walked around the city center before entering the
Cathedral nueva. Add this to the list of beautiful churches in Spain with
another lofty ceiling and very complex vaulting shaped like an intricate
flower. Not seeing Hans, I searched for the entrance to the bell tower where I
a paid a fee to access a network of passageways straight out of Assassin’s
Creed. You first climb up winding staircases stopping at a couple old guard
rooms where they had displays of relics and information related to the church
including a small crucifix that belonged to El Cid. There was a balcony that
looked over the more intimate, Romanesque Cathedral vieja that was replaced by
the new Cathedral built in the same complex. Continuing to climb you also
emerge onto a catwalk along the wall high above the Cathedral nueva for a
top-down view of the sanctuary and close-up inspection of the ceiling revealing
some significant cracks and damage in the upper levels from the powerful Lisbon
earthquake of 1755.
The next
stop in the climb was to emerge onto the open air of the Cathedral roof. This
place offered the best views of Salamanca in all its grandeur. There were
several paths along the roofs allowing you to both examine the architecture and
decoration on the exterior of the Cathedral along with the cityscape from many
angles. Still the excursion was not finished as I entered the bell tower and began
the long ascent to the top. I found Hans on his way down after lingering at the
top for quite a while taking timed shots of him jumping and climbing around the
belfry. The view from the top was obstructed by the walls and wiring, so I
returned down to the roof for another sweep of the horizon before making my way
down and exiting with Hans.
As our time
of departure approached, we grabbed our bags from the hostel and walked through
the Plaza Major on the way out to compare the experience with the square at
night. It was beautiful but certainly more magical at night. We stopped at a
market to eat lunch before boarding the bus, but when we arrived at the station
I discovered that I understood the wrong time for the only bus going to Segovia
that day. We missed it requiring us to take the next bus to Madrid. We were
becoming more natural at rolling with the punches and focusing on the next
move. This misunderstanding may have turned out for the better because,
although it could have gave us more time in Segovia, we were not sure how we
would get from there to Hoyo de Manzanares where Hans’ friend Karsten lived.
In addition,
I had discovered from my travel book that the world-renowned Del Prado art
museum has free admission for the last two hours of each day, so this allowed
us a two-hour visit that night. We struggled with the complicated metro to get
into the city center then walked to the museum and entered the extremely long
line that continued to grow around the building. Soon after 6:00, the line
streamed through the entrance fairly quickly and we were among the masses that
had flocked into the building to see classic pieces of art.
Most of the
exhibits were paintings and I enjoyed the vantage of history and the
progression of art forms that was unveiled as we progressed from room to room.
Even without stopping much to examine any paintings closer, we still only
breezed past less than half of the collection. There were the many works by
Velasquez including many of his depictions of buffoons or midgets. We also saw
collections by Goya, El Greco, and Raphael. Many rooms were filled with
illustrations of battles, processions, and palaces along with hundreds of
portraits of royalty and other nobles from the age of Absolutism in Europe. My
teaching of art as a component or representation of history in my classroom
gave me a solid information base to work from and I both gave Hans some of the
historical context for these works and helped point out the symbolism,
especially the growing secularism and civil power being portrayed.
Exhausted
from our early start, heavy exertion, and fast-paced visiting throughout the
day, we reclaimed our packs rested for a bit on the lawn outside where Hans
came along to meet me. Unsure of how much we would be able to see in Madrid, we
pressed on by walking down some of the main avenues of the city and continuing
into the extensive gardens of Buen Retiro Park. We paused by a peaceful memorial
to the 191 victims who died in the 2004 terrorist bombings at Atocha Station.
There was a stream with several foot bridges winding around a small hill with a
path that swirled up and around the hill to the top overlooking more of the
park. On the hill were olive and Cyprus trees, one for each of the victims.
People were relaxing in the grass among the trees. I was struck at how
different and appropriate this memorial was in comparison to others I had seen.
For example, to commemorate the 9/11 attacks, we have built a taller “Freedom
Tower” to demonstrate our triumph of democracy and have spent many millions
creating an extensive memorial project and museum among the World Trade
complex. I found the quiet, unassuming, simple, and natural composition to be
more helpful to the process of grieving and moving forward.
We continued
walking through the park and came to one of the main hangout places in the city
around the monument to Alfonso XII. The monument capped by a statue was flanked
by a semi-circle colonnade placed along the lake at the center of the park.
Many people were boating or kayaking on the lake, young people had come to meet
friends, and vendors were selling their wares. Then we walked down a
statue-lined promenade to exit the park, return to the metro,
and made our
way to the terminal for local buses. Without making any two-way contact with
Karsten, we struggled to use a pay phone to call him and Hans got cut off just
after he confirmed we were coming. We boarded the 611a night bus for Hoyo,
which was about 35 minutes.
Piecing
together pieces from his memory from his visit years earlier, Hans decrypted
where to get off, located the small Plaza Major, and gave us a heading to find
the given address. We found the apartment building but did not know how to find
the correct door. Hans was whispering and then squealing “Karsten” outside one
apartment where he thought he heard his friend, but was mistaken. Eventually,
another resident helped us and we were greeted by Karsten’s wife Mary and their
two kids Liam and Bruce. Karsten had gone to the bus stop to pick us up, but somehow
we missed him. When Karsten returned, Hans and him wasted no time “catching up”
by staring at each other, quoting inside jokes, strumming sumptuously
unresolved chords on the guitar, and laughing. Mary made us some tasty food and
I talked and joked around with Liam and Bruce. It was decided that Karsten
would visit Segovia with us the next day, he found cheap train tickets, and
(after a troublesome process) decided he would print the purchased tickets in
the morning at the church where he worked.
Day 21
We got up
early and ate breakfast in the kitchen with the kids before saying goodbye and
leaving for the early bus to Madrid. Running behind schedule, Hans hastily lead
us to the bus stop where he thought Karsten would meet us, but he wasn’t there.
The bus came and the driver and passengers got frustrated as we tried to stall
at the door waiting for Karsten. When decision time came, we boarded the bus
and hoped we would meet Karsten at the station. He was not there, so we decided
to wait for the next bus to arrive in 20 minutes. Sure enough, he ran into the
station and down the steps to the metro beckoning us to follow him. The
transfers from station to station always take longer than we thought. He told
us how the printer didn’t work so he tried at two peoples houses unsuccessfully
before racing to the bus stop (evidently at a different stop) and since he did
not see us he waited for the next bus.
Now our
train departure time was approaching so we prepared to absolutely book it from
the metro stop to the station. This was one of the most physically exerting
experiences in my life as we bounded up 6 soaring flights of stairs and
sprinted several hundred yards. Our muscles were screaming for oxygen so badly
we could hardly move by the time we got to the train and Karsten tried to
explain without breath that we had been unable to print the tickets and
(against their official policy…under the strenuous circumstances) they scanned
the tickets from his phone and allowed us to board as the train pulled out of
the station.
On the high-speed
train from Madrid, it would only take about half an hour to reach Segovia
station. From there we were shuttled into town and we walked to the bus station
where we would be able to store our packs in a locker. Historic Segovia was
still a good ways off, so we started walking glad that everything worked out in
the end. Unfortunately, we only had four hours before we needed to board our
train back to Madrid so we didn’t have time to wander. As the street curved to
the right we caught our first glimpse of the massive aqueduct running right
through the town that is Segovia’s most famous monument and the best preserved
Roman aqueduct in the world. We passed under the archways of the aqueduct to
the other side for a more unobstructed view of its breadth and to welcome
Karsten into the world of ridiculous timed shots that got more intense with
three people.
Compelled by
time, we headed up the cobblestone path flanked by fascinating old churches,
shops, and other buildings until we emerged into an open square with a
wonderful view of the Cathedral. Segovia is a little-known treasure packed with
awe-inspiring sights that many visitors to Spain miss. The Cathedral is one of
the most unique and magnificent in Spain. There are several layers on the
exterior each decorated by delicate spires bearing resemblance to a drip-drop
sand castle. There is also a mighty bell tower that soars high above everything
else, but it is not accessible to visitors.
We decided
to bypass the Cathedral and make for the Alcazar that was a favorite sight of
Hans and Karsten. We stopped at a mini-market to buy a picnic lunch for three
that we ate in the park under the shadow of the powerful façade of the Alcazar
and entertained some youths with a free-for-all bread sword fight.
The castle
was one of the most impregnable structures I have ever seen. It was surrounded
on three sides by sheer cliffs. On the approach side there was a deep chasm
separating the entrance from the city spanned by a 25 ft. drawbridge before
running up into the nearly hundred ft. high battlements of the castle keep.
Underneath the castle was a cistern for water to be stored. There were several
soaring towers that gave the castle a commanding 360 degree view and position
of defense. I don’t know if anyone even tried to assault that.
Inside the
castle was a courtyard surrounded by beautifully decorated medieval rooms. This
used to be one of the royal residences so there was a throne room, receiving
hall, dining room, banquet area, chapel, and bedroom. There was artwork painted
directly on the wall of all the rooms including a record of all the kings in
the banquet area. Then were emerged onto the battlements on the backside of the
castle where the cliffs were highest and we could look down on the birds flying
below. There was an armory showcasing all sorts of weapons and a museum on the
opposite side of the courtyard. Finally, we climbed up to the top of the
keep for the best available views over Segovia. We allowed ourselves to linger
here for some time before exiting and crossing back through town to the
Cathedral.
The inside
of the Cathedral was majestic, but these awe-inspiring Gothic Cathedrals were
becoming a common sight during our time in Spain so we did not feel rushed by
time. I think Spain may be the victor in a competition for the most impressive
array of churches in a single country. On our way out we forged a new path to
bring us out along the top of where the aqueduct begins its span across the
lower part of town. Hans and I stood on the wall overlooking the edge basking
in the allure of yet another commanding position while Karsten nervously stood
below. When it was time to leave, when retrieved our packs, caught a shuttle
back to the train station where Karsten tried to scan the tickets from the
phone, but the lady made us print them out using one of the ticket printing
machines before gliding back to Madrid where we parted with Karsten.
It was about
5:30, which gave us enough time to head back down to the Del Prado for another
free two-hour visit. Hans had decided to visit the neighboring naval museum so
we agreed to meet up afterwards. He had been interested in the exhibits on the
Spanish Armada and the Philippines where he had backpacked for a couple weeks,
but was thwarted when the guards charged him an entrance fee, made him wear his
pack, and closed the museum an hour earlier than was listed. Meanwhile, I
joined in the queue and soon set about my task of visiting the remainder of the
exhibits.
There were
more big name paintings to see, including, one of my favorites, Hieronymus
Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights.” I had taught this painting in class to demonstrate
the uneasy feelings about the Church and the condition of the soul during the time
of corruption and crisis in the Catholic Church in the years leading up to the
Reformation. There is also the “Third of May” by Francisco Goya depicting
Spanish captives being executed by occupying French troops under Napoleon. I
also used this in class in contrast to the famous portrait of a young Napoleon urging
his troops forward from a rearing horse to point out the many faces of the
French Revolution and its effect on Europe. The contrast of the cold discipline
of the French troops vs. the desperate emotion of the captives is made more poignant
by the light cast on the Spanish figures by a lantern at the center of the
scene. All in all, I really enjoyed the richness of this museum and seeing in
person many images that I had used in my teaching Power Points.
Hans had not
appeared before the guards ushered us out of the building, so I waited for him
to appear in the lawn. We both needed a good night’s sleep so we headed straight
for our hostel. This was the biggest hostel that we stayed in the whole trip
and lots of people were hanging around downstairs. Lacking energy, we walked
around to find something to eat and drink on a bench before returning to
navigate the maze of rooms upstairs to our 18-bed mixed dorm room, took a
shower, and went to bed early.
Day 22
In the
morning we made for the Puerta del Sol to possibly meet up with Daniel, a
Spanish acquaintance that I had made while traveling in Bulgaria and had shown
interest in traveling with us for a bit, but it had fallen apart due to
complications. Since he did not show up, we started our walking tour by viewing
the statue of the bear reaching into the Madrano tree that was the symbol of
the city. We continued down the main boulevard stopping to eat churros con
chocolate at the most famous churros venue in the city before arriving at the
Plaza Mayor which was bigger than the one in Salamanca, but not nearly as
enthralling. We navigated the streets to experience a couple other historic
plazas before bumping into the royal Palace complex. I got in free with my
international teacher card, so along with a couple reduced rates making the
card a fiscally worthwhile investment.
I had been
surprised how at almost all of the sites we had visited throughout the trip, we
had been able to take pictures freely, but we were not allowed inside of the
chapel. Most of my pictures from here were the compliments of Google images.
There was a massive all-white open square in front of the palace entrance
skirted on two sides by the armory and pharmacy with a gate closing in the
square. The main section of the palace was entered via a grand staircase with
statues demonstrating the power of Spain. We visited several rooms that were
each a different color scheme and were surprisingly ornate. Next we spent over
an hour in the armory that had beautiful suits of royal army from throughout
the centuries along with several huge long-barreled guns that seemed to be less
useful in battle than interesting to look at. Hans had decided to meet up with
Karsten and his family in Hoyo for the afternoon before returning in the
evening to meet up and catch our sleeper train to Barcelona. So we parted ways
and I forged ahead determined to see all the sites of interest.
I walked
down to the Plaza de Espana with a large fountain, throngs of shops, and
several interesting buildings in the background. Next, I located an ancient Egyptian
temple that had been transplanted from Aswan to save it from destruction due to
construction of the high dam. It was small, but a curious find in the middle of
a Western European city and a reminder of my time in Egypt. After city in shade
to rest and eat lunch I walked through a park, down a hill to a rose garden,
and across the railroad tracks to a small chapel that housed the tomb of Goya
and one of his most astounding works painted on the ceiling. This scene
depicting the preaching of Saint Anthony of Padua is hailed for its mastering
of perception as the images look accurate and alive despite being painted on
different angles and shapes of the arches, vaulting, and dome of the chapel ceiling.
Outside of the city center, the chapel was almost empty and it was a peaceful
place to rest my back as I looked up at the ceiling.
Hopping on
the metro, I popped out at the bull fighting arena, the most prestigious in
Spain, built in the neo-Mudejar style. I was hoping to get a tour of the
inside, but it was closed for the day because there was going to be a motocross
extravaganza in the arena over the weekend. I headed back to the hostel to pick
up my pack, grabbed something to eat, and went to the Reina Sofia Museum of
contemporary art for the free visit. There was a long line that moved slower
but I was not as interested in this art. There was a lot of weird, sexual, and
nonsensical art that made me feel irritable. I felt like the art was being
praised for being edgy, non-conforming, and demonstrating internal confusion.
Very little was pleasing to look at and had little historical importance, but I
am glad that I saw world renowned examples of this genre of art. Certainly the
most famous piece was Picasso’s massive “Guernica” that was adapted as an anti-war
protest following the atrocious bombing of the city of Guernica in northern
Spain by the Nazis during the Spanish Civil War.
Unlike the
Del Prado, I had no problem fitting everything I wanted to see within the two
free hours and I exited early to wait for Hans who I expected to meet inside
the museum. I waited long past our agreed meeting time range and began to get
nervous that something went wrong. I walked around the museum looking for
another entrance where he could be waiting but did not see him. Just like in
Greece, when I decided that it was of no use and that I had to go to make our
train, he showed up evidently stressed. We took off running and he explained
that he had terrible luck with the buses and metro being hopelessly delayed and
that we might now have problems making our train on time because they had
closed the metro line that we needed to get to the station. We would now have
to go out of the way and transfer three times. As the departure time of our
train approached, it was frustrating knowing there was nothing we could do but
wait. We could not believe we were late again to the same freakin’ train
station. Again we laid it all on the line sprinting up the steps and to the
station, but are bodies were more worn down before and it was to no avail. We
missed the train.
Missing our
connections was really starting to get old but Hans was livid because he placed
most of the responsibility on himself. We decided that the only thing to do was
to take an overnight bus that would get us to Barcelona by morning. Since we
lost our money from the train tickets, Hans insisted on paying for my bus
ticket and our metro trips. We transferred to the bus station and waited there
for our bus that was departing at 1am. Beyond exhausted, we both slept for the
entire trip and woke up in Barcelona.
Day 23
Dropped off
in far from our hostel and exhausted, we had to decipher another metro system
and city map to get to our hostel. Unfortunately, we were way too early to
check in so we dropped off our packs and sat in the small park outside for a
long time as I tried to read the tour book and strategize our visit. In
Barcelona, nearly all the museums are free on Sunday, which was tomorrow so we
would wait to see many of the sights and use the day to walk around. We headed
down to the Naval Museum and looked at its model of the city and exhibit on the
important city port that was expanding to be one of the largest in Europe and
the Mediterranean. Then we strolled down coast and noticed that the city was
very clean, well-spaced, and had a unique combination of vibes as a modern,
historic, young, and beach city.
There was a
promenade along the coast lined with docks for small recreational boats. Ahead
there was a grandstand and a lot of commotion and markings along the water. We
found out that Barcelona was currently hosting the 2013 Aquatic World
Championships and there was outdoor long-distance swimming event going on. There
was a group from the US and many of the European countries that was cheering on
their country. As we walked around the grandstand for a view from the other
side, they announced nearly 70 candidates from a huge variety of countries
including the Middle East and Africa. These atypical contestants were not able
to keep up with the rest of the field in this early heat but they represented
their countries on the world stage.
We walked
into the historic center of Barcelona and wandered around for a while. There
was a statue of Count Berenguer III who was a local hero, but my Age of Empires
campaign memory told me that he was an adversary of El Cid who was the main
hero of central Spain. This highlighted the division between Catalonia (east) and
the rest of Spain. The history and culture of this region has long been
distinct from much of Spain and even has a different dialect or form of Spanish
than the rest of Spain. What Americans know as Spanish is actually Castilian
Spanish, which was the language of the Catholic Monarchs that united most of
Spain and therefore was the language spread in the New World. However, in
northern Spain there is Basque and Galician and here Catalan was spoke. In most
of the museum’s there were Castilian and Catalan descriptions side by side;
they were similar but may have been distinct enough that it would be hard to
understand the other. In fact, much like with Quebec in Canada, there is a
significant movement in Catalonia advocating political separation from the rest
of Spain.
Wherever you
are in Spain, you feel a profound sense of culture. Because there was little
idea of a united Spain until the 16th century, each region of Spain has a
unique culture with different architecture, cuisine, practices, and language.
The differences in style and design were richer and more evident from place to
place than the US or most countries. Their history of struggle with the Moors
and the fusion of cultures seems to have created a sense of pride and emphasis
on culture lived out in society. While many places I have visited seem to cater
to or get washed down by tourism by blending in with a Western cultural mush,
Spain had more integrity to stick to its distinctiveness. Barcelona was a
strong example of this because it felt very different from the rest of Spain in
many ways.
Eventually,
we entered the Cathedral that was a peak example of high Gothic architecture as
the tall, narrow pillars, windows, spires, and pointed archways gave an already
high ceiling the impression that it was reaching toward the heavens. This was a
complete accomplishment of the goal of drawing churchgoer’s eyes out of the
world around them toward the holiness of God in heaven. There was an elevator that took us to the roof
where we got an incredible 360 degree view of the city that was a hodgepodge of
old and new co-existing beautifully. And far in the distance rose the spires
and construction cranes of La Sagrada Familia, the famous church designed by
local great Anton Gaudi and that was incredible despite being far from
completion.
That view
was enough to make us want to visit La Sagrada, so we made our way back to our
hostel, stopped to watch two guys creating massive floating bubbles with ropes,
checked into our room, did some wash, reserved our tickets online, and headed
off. From underground at the metro station, you emerge right under the shadow of
the massive church. There were really long lines but we got to skip it because
of our reservation, but since I had been unable to print them we had to use our
confirmation number at the entrance. The tickets were a steep 13 euros each but
much of the profits was used to fund the continuation of construction. As soon
as we entered the inside of the church, we were instantly struck with wonder
and glad we corked out the money to visit.
The interior
glowed with iridescent colored light from the stained glass windows all
covering the walls. The ceiling soared far higher than any other church I had
seen as the whole central nave reached to 150 ft. The whole interior seemed
alive with an outlandish natural energy reminding me of Avatar. There was an
exhibit that revealed how Gaudi’s designs were usually based on the dimensions
and beauty of nature exemplified by the tree and branches appearance of the
columns. There were a couple layers of seating and walkways along the wall and
huge spiral staircases used to reach the upper levels that reminded me a little
of a tree house. The crescent of pillars forming the apse was incredible and
there was a canopy of organic-looking lights that was suspended above the
altar. The main doors at the rear were bronze-cast and covered with words from
the languages of the world coming together to form the words of the Lord’s
Prayer. At each entrance there is an extensive mural of statues carved in an
abstract, almost stoic fashion depicting the Nativity and the Passion of
Christ. The completed spires fly way overhead, but the central spire that has
not been started is planned to rise 560 ft. Once again, you will just have to
look at the pictures to get even a hint of the full grandeur.
Before
leaving we went down to the lower level where there was a mass happening in
this more intimate chapel where Gaudi was buried off to the side. Next, we took
the subway the Park Guell, which was planned to be a massive luxury housing
area on a hill overlooking Barcelona completely designed by Gaudi with curving
paths, mosaic benches and statues, and diverse gardens. To help visitors climb
to the hill, there was a sequence of about 6-8 massive escalators straight up a
side-street leading to a park entrance. Hans bought some exotic juices that he
had also had in India including guava, passion fruit, and guanabana. He would
buy about a liter of juice every day because he thinks it’s a great way to
hydrate while getting essential vitamins and minerals. We probably looked so ridiculous
to people passing by us sitting along the street eating with our hands from a
massive spread of whole foods while drinking out of a massive juice box like
cavemen (not that they had juice boxes).
We walked up
the walking path with gardens on either side until we reached a lookout point
with a large cross over the city. All of Barcelona was laid out before us, so
it was a great way to understand the dimensions and points of interest in the
city. We could see right down the avenues of center city with the new sector to
the left and another hill on the right that blocked the view of the port. Down
the hill a ways was a residential building with the whole roof and side covered
in graffiti of anarchy and marijuana…a hub for young non-conformists to stick
it to the man. We lingered to enjoy the great view as the sun set and we talked
with some of the people there before returning to our hostel for the night. Unfortunately,
we missed several statues and structures built by Gaudi well down the hill in
the lower part of the park. Before bed I was working on the computer and met
two college girls, referred to as Mexico and Argentina, who were completing an assignment.
When Hans and I went to bed there was someone who had moved all our stuff to
other beds, Hans reclaimed his bed while a grabbed an open one. However, Hans
got woken up and had an argument about which bed was his before realizing that
we were supposed to be assigned beds within the room, but we were never told.
Day 24
The hostel
had a simple all you can eat breakfast with cereal, toast, muffins, and juices.
We ate with the two girls who we were talking to about our plans until another
kid, referred to as Canada, showed up. Despite being from Indiana, he pretended
to be from Canada and made a lot of dumb know-it-all jokes to annoy us
surprisingly quickly. When touring as a group came up in conversation we made
it clear that we were doing different stuff than they would be planning to not
be stuck with that annoying jabber. We rode the subway, took a funicular, and
then boarded a cable car for a long ride up to the top of the hill that divided
the port from the city.
At the end
of the line was Montjuic Castle, a free hangout spot for city-dwellers
featuring huge cannons, extensive battlements, and sweeping coastal views. I
wasted no time mounting canon to gaze over the port below before planking and
balancing for several photos. The land side of the fortress has a sequence of
walls and firing positions that provided interlocking layers of defense always
keeping the enemy in an area open to fire from within. In the yard there was an
archery competition as dozens of guys fired volleys of arrows down the range as
we watched from the wall above. We planned for me to walk down the hill to the
art museum of Catalonia while Hans fooled around longer in the castle to meet
me in a couple hours. On the way down I lost a good amount of time because the
most direct route on the map worked perfect until I was blocked from crossing
the street to the museum by a huge locked gate and the fence around the gardens
forced me to backtrack way back and around. First of all, why is the gate accessing
the museum and city beyond closed? Secondly, if you are going to only have one
entrance open to a massive garden, shouldn’t there be a sign posted informing
people that was the only exit?
Eventually,
I arrived at the museum to find out it was closing in about an hour (earlier
than listed) meaning I would need to seriously rush through to see what I was
interested. This museum was awesome for a history-minded fellow because all of
the exhibits were categorized by period of history and then laid out chronologically.
The evolution of art through the dark ages to the 20th century played out
gradually in front of my eyes. Most of the items came from the region,
especially the frescoes and woodcuts from the dark ages. These images were flat
with no sense of depth or perspective and almost all of them were religious
focusing on the crucifixion and depictions of the saints. During the late
middle ages of the 13th and 14th centuries, the figures became more precise
with richer color and better spacing. The Renaissance brings the first
understanding of depth and perspective, the prevalence of classical and secular
themes, and a sense of life and emotion in the figures. These components
improve and become more complex into the Baroque period of the 17th century
that used exaggerated motion and expression to produce more drama and grandeur.
The scenes become more focused on key figures and used great attention to
detail to bring out meaning. After this progression is complete, art spans out
into many movements each with their own focus or style giving a wide-array of
contemporary art.
With enough
time to complete the progression without being able to analyze any individual
works more closely, I was pushed out by the guards and met Hans after several
minutes outside. From the front of the museum there was a great view down one
of the main boulevards with opens squares, fountains, and a grand staircase
down the remainder of the hill. We walked to the Naval Museum for our free
visit where we inconspicuously avoided Canada, Argentina, and Mexico who
happened to be exiting the museum at that time. The main attraction inside was
a full-scale model of the Venetian flagship of Don Juan of Austria who
commanded the Holy League in their decisive victory over the Ottoman Navy at the
Battle of Lepanto in 1571. I was intrigued by a section on the Catalan Atlas
because I used this as a primary source in my class to demonstrate the
development of African civilizations. After teaching this to Hans and analyzing
the map, we noticed they had flipped one panel of the map upside down, so we
informed the steward. We had earlier noticed an error in one of the
descriptions, so we felt like accomplished historians to be noticing errors in
a museum.
After
leaving the museum, we wandered around the historic center some more walking up
and down La Rambla, the famous pedestrian street. We again saw our friends on
the street along with a Hindu parade celebrating Krishna with colorful banners
and random percussion. Next we grabbed lunch from a market then visited a
church that is regarded as one of the most uniform from the middle ages because
it was completed in just 60 years. This means the specific stage of Gothic is
consistent throughout the space giving it a simplistic beauty. Since it
was Sunday we lingered in the sanctuary before heading to our last
museum before closing time.
We had
planned on going to the Picasso museum, but the line was huge, so we looked for
the city history museum. We watched a quick film that outlined the stages of
development from Roman times up to modern day before descending to the lower
levels to walk on pathways above the ruins of the Roman city. After emerging
from the ruins we were soon swooshed out of the museum and stumbled upon a jazz
band jamming on the street with quite a crowd. We were exhausted from standing
all day so we headed back to our hostel for a quick rest before venturing out
to the beach.
We took the
subway part way before having to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately, there
we got to see another side of the city with a really nice park where people
were biking, dancing in a pavilion, and playing Ping-Pong along with a huge
fountain with a golden chariot statue on top. Unfortunately, the park
authorities of Barcelona love locking the entrances to parks, so again we had
to go out of our way to exit the park before continuing on our way. By the time
we got to the beach, night had fallen and the area came alive with lights and
people who came to drink in the bars and cafes. We sat near an inappropriate
drunk guy who soon fell asleep and two girls who were sitting nearby came over
to talk. They were both from the Czech Republic, one was in Barcelona living
with several other girls in a flat trying to get a job in translation while the
other was visiting her. We fired questions at them about Czech culture and
politics while showing how few of their fellow countrymen were known in America
outside of some hockey players. The water was beautiful with the low moon
shimmering across the ripples and Hans and I had a moment before we left where
we waded in the ocean because it would be the last time in the foreseeable
future that we would be in the Mediterranean. Hans was very sentimental about
leaving and again couldn’t believe it. Since the subway had closed, we walked
with the girls all the way back to their apartment before continuing back to
the hostel, but of course we could not get back without almost getting stuck in
another huge park with the exit closed. Luckily, I found that the bars at one
point in the fence were wide enough to squeeze through, so we emerged
victorious from our bondage.
We had to
get up early in the morning, so I only slept two hours. There was a crazy full
shuttle bus that we had to force our way in the line to get onto before arriving
in the airport and waiting for our flight to Paris. Our time in Spain had been
crazy as we squeezed so much into our 12 days, but we were so glad for all the
sights we visited and the memories that were created. It was time to meet up
with Pat for a new adventure in two of the greatest cities in the world.
