Pitingo

yesterday's forgotten entry:

Día de la Cruz was much better than expected. There was something going down in almost every plaza (think, one or two plazas per city block). All of the little girls were clad in flamenco dresses, as well as many older women. Plaza de Larga featured anyone and everyone doing some sort of flamenco. Mirador de San Nicolas was full of hippies, as usual, ignoring the rest of the world. It was pretty eventful, and not half as debilitating as Semana Santa. 

I'm raising my kids in Spain, so they have to dress like this. 

today:

Going to see Luis Buñuel's "El río y la muerte" tonight. I'm not sure what it's about, but he was a weirdo so it should be interesting. 

Día de la cruz

Today is día de la cruz, which is when lots of people decorate large crosses with flowers and ask for money and play music and do flamenco and stuff. There might be a little more to that, but this is all I've gathered. Like the traditions of many religious (Catholic) holidays here, the whole affair seems a little sacrilegious to me. To walk around with a cross in one hand, and a box for change in the other? Like my friend Katie put it, "...and I was like, you want money for dressing up your cross? So what. Jesus died on a cross." That said, I'll probably walk around and admire it and maybe drop a euro in someone's money tin, because IT'S SO PRETTY.

here's a photo I didn't take of día de la cruz in the Albaicín:

http://www.andaluciaimagen.com/Plaza-Larga-el-dia-de-La-Cruz--Granada_35452.jpg 

Today is also mother's day here. Friday was also labor day. And yesterday was the big game between Real Madrid and Barcelona. It's like a 4 for 1. 

Me duele la nariz

I've been blowing my nose for like, 2 weeks now. It hurts, it hurts,

and the skin around it is raw. There's no such thing as a soft tissue in Spain,

for your mental notes.

"The apparition of these faces in the crowd

petals on a wet, black bough." (In a Station of the Metro, Ezra Pound)

---these words have been running through my mind all day. thank you james longenbach.

and happy birthday dad! I miss you!! 

reaching social security now!

broma!!

"We've been pompous ever since Columbus couldn't work a compass"

The writing's on the (kitchen) wall. Europe lovez Obamz.

and Spain loves Christopher Colombus.

fun fact!: morocco was the first country to support america's independence. my friend tarik told me this proudly, after which i offered thanks on behalf of my african and native american ancestors. bust! i'm five years old.

thoughts today:

- it's snowing pollen, which is my second greatest fear, after swine flu. but keeping the flu "in perspective"...

- i came up with a great thesis question the other night, after a long conversation about language. unfortunately, i'm an idiot and only wrote down, "the ownership of language". i'll never remember what it was. i guess i at least have a topic.

- i went through 6 packs of tissues yesterday. time to cut the holistic medicinal practice of breathing in the steam of boiling water in order to cure my congestion. it's not working, host mom.

- the birds in Granada sing all day long.

goals today:

- window shop at yokohama? yoksana? whatever the boutique is called, i'm finding it hard not to spend my money there.

- take my book of Lorca poetry and my english-spanish dictionary down to the park. be patient with it.

- write a page of my final project paper. 

- send my pile of snail mail. 

- go to Sacromonte tonight and see a flamenco show. be kidnapped by river gypsies and be forced adopt their culture and lifestyle of singing and dancing and riding in caravans. become the next Carmen Amaya of flamenco.

Goals

I consider this blog failed, in ways. I've done a bad job at updating and have provided a pretty broken portrait of my life here in Spain. And at the same time, I'm not sure I had a specific goal in mind when I started this blog, so it had nothing to fail at really, so much as passively exist.

That said, Spain was a blast. Not that I'm leaving yet, but with 2 weeks left I've begun pre-retrospective meditation. I'd like to think that my time here was spent productively, an immersion engendering some sort of cultural enlightenment, like that I should spend more time eating and less time worrying, but I think I already knew that. On a whole, I'd say Europe isn't all that different from the U.S., aside the rich FASCINATING western history. My 5 days spent in Morocco this past week affirmed my suspicions. I felt, for the first time in a while, absolutely foreign in a foreign land, where women are only seen in the streets shopping or moving from one indoor location to another. It was uncomfortable to see only men, everywhere- populating the cafes and bars and leisurely walking the streets. However, I've never been so catered to in my life. Moroccans are an incredibly hospitable people. I was invited to tea and dinner on countless occasions during the 5 days and to my amazement, they eat more than Spaniards (a great break from Spanish cuisine). Confirms my other suspicion, which is the less that people have, the more they are willing to give. I guess that's less of a suspicion and more of a kind of fact (generally), like the parable of the widow's offering.

So, like I said, didn't do all that much. I mean, I traveled a lot, saw a ton of Spain, met a lot of people, learned a lot of Spanish, etc. But I have little to show for it. And I tend to count my productivity in tangible quantities. wah wahhh.

I have two weeks left in Granada, during which I'll volunteer a lot a ROMI, finish my independent project, and play. This involves more flamenco watching in the caves of Sacromonte and exploring all of the tourist-friendly activities I have yet to accomplish here. Afterwards, I have tentative plans to spend a day in Bath, followed by 5 days between Northern France and Brussels with my dear friend Monica. Then, I head back to Madrid and travel again around Southern Spain with my mother. Por fin, I will arrive either in Paris or Geneva to spend my last 4 or 5 days, taking in all of the Europe I can get and avoiding swine flu. Then I arrive home, which I'm sure I'll be ready for. I miss a lot of things about home, including having a relatively independent life. I'm sure I'll be ready.

But back to my not failed yet not successful blog, I've decided to update every day for the next two weeks. These entries might not be updates, so much as fleeting thoughts or things I come across. Goal? 

No pasa nada...

...is the way of life in Andalucía. It means, more or less, "don't worry about it, nothing happened, whatever..." A people less worried than Andalusians may be hard to come by. 

So, as a picture's worth a thousand words,

stories from Castaras:

My bed

Annie's bed

Bar hopping. There were two in Castaras.

Breakfast! There are no stores in Castaras but men that deliver food by truck. 

We love the bread man.

False advertising. It took us 3 hours. But then, I guess we scaled a couple mountains on the way. 

This water runs through the village fountains, but we drank it straight from under that rock. 

Us. From the left, Annie, Leigh, Me, Katie.

Me with a tree branch seemed to be a running theme on the trip.

Sorry everything's underlined. I can't get rid of it.

Strange foliage.

Being lame!

This is Leigh after we slid down a mountain, and I could not understate "slid down a mountain" any more. But that was my bright idea. 

We made it to Notaez...We made it to Notaez...I can't believe we made it to Notaez

Kind of like Eden.

Katie tried to pet it. It wasn't having it.

Notaez!

We must've passed this flock of sheep like, 10 times. The shepherd gave no directional help. I think he might've been laughing at us. 

"And Castaras would be back that way."

We made a friend.

Lost again. And giving up.

You can see Africa from here

Last last weekend's trip to Sorvilan:

The small pueblo of Sorvilan, population 261

The treacherous 2 1/2 hour ride there. Some of us had our eyes closed. A blind man appeared out of the fog with a walking stick. It felt profound in some, shallow way.

The view from our abode. You can see the coast of Africa from here (when it's clear of fog).

Hola Enrique. We stayed at his 400? year old house in Sorvilan and he cooked for us. He also led us on a hike through the mountains to the Mediterranean for about 3 hours, and showed us all of the vegetation that grows there, which is basically all of the vegetation in Europe. There are about 100 microclimates in the immediate region which allow every sort of plant to grow. I picked some rosemary, thyme and lavender for my sister, and subsequently lost it, back from whence it came. Next time, Erin.

The sun came out, por fin!

"Come down from the mountains, you have been gone too long..."

That would be Annie and I. 

...more on my death hike through Cástaras to come.