Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The City is Burning
What do Spaniards do for St. Patty´s day? Just about all of them party, some go to that Irish pub down the street, some even to Ireland. But the same weekend as St. Patricks day is also the Fesival de Las Fallas in Valencia.
Las Fallas is a longstanding tradition in Valencia, an ancient city on the southwestern coast of Spain. They build huge paper machet sculptures, sort of like floats, that tell stories. They´re massive, colorful, must take months to think up and build, and at the end, they burn.
It may sound trivial at first, but its actually a culturally rich festival. Groups of 20-100 men women and children dressed in ancient roman clothing parade through the streets singing, dancing, and followed by a marching band. Everyone and their mother has fireworks, noisemakers, or just things that blow up. Its not a rare sight to see a three year old lighting and tossing a firecracker into the middle of the street.
Most of the roads in the city are blocked off to make room for the hoards of people pushing, stampeding to see the Fallas. There are 385 total in the city, one at each major intersection.
Everyday at 2 pm they would have a fireworks show loud enough to cripple your ear drums and maybe make you think you´re in a war zone. Its hard not to cringe and flinch at gunpowder exploding right below your feet.
Finally, at midnight on Monday night they have the biggest firework show of them all, and they light the first Falla to burn. The crowd resembles Times Square on New Year´s Eve. Nobody even so much as thinks of St. Patrick. The whole crowd is enthralled, ooing and ahhing at the colorful explosions in the sky. And finally, the chain reaction of explosions works its way to the top of the sculpture and fire erupts.
Everyones got a little pyromaniac in them.
The heat tans your face, and the crowd makes you sweat, but the sight distracts you from feeling any of it. It seems like a lot of work to spend 364 days building these massive, impressive sculptures just to burn them. And maybe to some it seems a little wasteful- but until you go for yourself you won´t understand the magic of Las Fallas.
Las Fallas is a longstanding tradition in Valencia, an ancient city on the southwestern coast of Spain. They build huge paper machet sculptures, sort of like floats, that tell stories. They´re massive, colorful, must take months to think up and build, and at the end, they burn.
It may sound trivial at first, but its actually a culturally rich festival. Groups of 20-100 men women and children dressed in ancient roman clothing parade through the streets singing, dancing, and followed by a marching band. Everyone and their mother has fireworks, noisemakers, or just things that blow up. Its not a rare sight to see a three year old lighting and tossing a firecracker into the middle of the street.
Most of the roads in the city are blocked off to make room for the hoards of people pushing, stampeding to see the Fallas. There are 385 total in the city, one at each major intersection.
Everyday at 2 pm they would have a fireworks show loud enough to cripple your ear drums and maybe make you think you´re in a war zone. Its hard not to cringe and flinch at gunpowder exploding right below your feet.
Finally, at midnight on Monday night they have the biggest firework show of them all, and they light the first Falla to burn. The crowd resembles Times Square on New Year´s Eve. Nobody even so much as thinks of St. Patrick. The whole crowd is enthralled, ooing and ahhing at the colorful explosions in the sky. And finally, the chain reaction of explosions works its way to the top of the sculpture and fire erupts.
Everyones got a little pyromaniac in them.
The heat tans your face, and the crowd makes you sweat, but the sight distracts you from feeling any of it. It seems like a lot of work to spend 364 days building these massive, impressive sculptures just to burn them. And maybe to some it seems a little wasteful- but until you go for yourself you won´t understand the magic of Las Fallas.
Friday, March 16, 2012
El Rastro
Madrid is famous for a lot of different things, but perhaps the most fascinating is the weekly outdoor flea market- El Rastro. Its the kind of place you can find anything. Clothes, posters, furniture, congo playing minstrels etc.
You know its Sunday when you get on the green line and its packed at 11 am. For those who don't know the Rastro it might be confusing. But once everyone gets off at the same stop it becomes very clear.
Its a familiar sight- the doors to the train open and suddenly a swarm of people pour out of the doors. Theres a slow and steady stampede from the metro doors, down the hallway, up the stairs, up the escalators, out the metro mouth, and its funnels right into the tight pack of slowly moving people meandering through the curvy streets.
Another time and place and it could be the crowd getting off to go the a Sox game at Fenway.
Its a tight squeeze in the market, but worth it to find all the little things you never even knew you needed. A must do for all madrilenos, whether here for a semester abroad with Suffolk University, or just here for a week visiting.
You know its Sunday when you get on the green line and its packed at 11 am. For those who don't know the Rastro it might be confusing. But once everyone gets off at the same stop it becomes very clear.
Its a familiar sight- the doors to the train open and suddenly a swarm of people pour out of the doors. Theres a slow and steady stampede from the metro doors, down the hallway, up the stairs, up the escalators, out the metro mouth, and its funnels right into the tight pack of slowly moving people meandering through the curvy streets.
Another time and place and it could be the crowd getting off to go the a Sox game at Fenway.
Its a tight squeeze in the market, but worth it to find all the little things you never even knew you needed. A must do for all madrilenos, whether here for a semester abroad with Suffolk University, or just here for a week visiting.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Primavera
Just yesterday I would consciously cross the street in pursuit of the sunny side, trying to keep warm. Yet the warm weather always sneaks up on you. Already I find myself looking for the shade, taking off my jacket, and dreaming of a place to go swimming.
Madrid's most famous and largest park, Retiro, is a perfect place for all seasons. It requires some bundling of clothing in the winter, and certainly a lot of cold drinks in the summer, but this time of year, wonderful, bright, sweet-smelling spring, you can go with just the clothes on your back. Its a liberating feeling. No bag to worry about. No big jacket to lug around. No sweltering heat weighing you down. Just you, the blooming flowers, and the pleasant sunshine.
Retiro's great for just walking around, sitting on the grass playing some cards, talking with your friends, but you can also do one of my favorite things- take a little row boat out on the man made lagoon in the middle. Its a beautiful sight, watching all the boats meander through the water, in no rush no go nowhere. Ducks lazily floating along, also lacking the sense of urgency imposed upon us by the weekdays.
Springtimes a great time for cleaning, for life as usual, but its also a great time to slow down, as the Spanish do all too often. Stop and smell the flowers if you will. And there is no better place and way to do just that than the rowboats in Retiro.
Madrid's most famous and largest park, Retiro, is a perfect place for all seasons. It requires some bundling of clothing in the winter, and certainly a lot of cold drinks in the summer, but this time of year, wonderful, bright, sweet-smelling spring, you can go with just the clothes on your back. Its a liberating feeling. No bag to worry about. No big jacket to lug around. No sweltering heat weighing you down. Just you, the blooming flowers, and the pleasant sunshine.
Retiro's great for just walking around, sitting on the grass playing some cards, talking with your friends, but you can also do one of my favorite things- take a little row boat out on the man made lagoon in the middle. Its a beautiful sight, watching all the boats meander through the water, in no rush no go nowhere. Ducks lazily floating along, also lacking the sense of urgency imposed upon us by the weekdays.
Springtimes a great time for cleaning, for life as usual, but its also a great time to slow down, as the Spanish do all too often. Stop and smell the flowers if you will. And there is no better place and way to do just that than the rowboats in Retiro.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Los Educados
There is a place in Madrid I particularly like to go. Its great for all times of day- but the sunset is the best. Its more or less a cliff, facing West, overlooking the river, and its a large park with benches and grass and lots of people. Its called Parque de Las Montanas.
There is also an 'Egyptian' temple there. At least a mimic of one. I've never gone inside the actual museum part of it, but just the shallow pool lit but the last minutes of golden sunshine is a sight worth paying for. It reminds me a little bit of the reflection pool in Boston now that I think about it.
This place is great for all occasions. One can go there to read and relax alone. Maybe with a significant other for the sunset. With some friends to sit and play cards. Or even with you mom when she's visiting (yay!) Its very versatile.
The other night I was there, yes with my mom, and also with my friends. We sat on the grass for awhile, watch the sun slowly melt into the horizon, cherishing those mystically hypnotizing moments. When the spell was broken we began to walk home.
Passing by a bench we all immediately caught the sight of an older Spanish man sitting upright, well-dressed, on a park bench. It was only a 'sight' because of his three dogs sitting equally postured next to him. The most well behaved dogs I have ever seen. Sitting peacefully, respectfully, backs straight, just looking at the world around them, taking it all in.
We couldn't believe it.
Que educados! I said to the man- a word I had been saying to use since i learned it in Spanish class the other day. It means well-behaved, educated, polite... You get the idea.
So the conversation was sparked and he told us that the dog in the middle was the mother, and the two on either side were her daughters. My sentimental mother (redundant terms I suppose) was immediately touched.
"Tell him I'm your mom!" she said to me.
So embarrassing- but thats how it goes with mothers these days. So I told the man she was my mother, although I'm sure he had inferred that awhile ago.
Just goes to show you can find anything in Madrid- including little dogs better behaved than some adult humans.
And for those of you who find yourself here in Madrid, I strongly encourage a trip to Parque de Las Montanas.
Big Ears
Last semester I took an introductory class on the European Union- a term I had heard often, but didn't really know much about. If you ask our Professor, the kids who took that class now know more about the union than many, and indeed most, Europeans.
A key concept we discussed was that of identity- how do you define and identify yourself? This is a huge component to European success and cohesion because if people don't feel European, they won't act European- they'll act in a way which benefits their country first. European identity had been doing quite well before the global economic crisis, but its harder to be so open-minded and accepting of foreign cultures in a recession. Money in your pocket tends to make you more idealistic.
So today waiting for a bus ride home from Toledo I met a couple on holiday from Holland. Of course I had to ask about their perception of the Union and how European they feel. Their answer was that they feel 'reasonably' European, but counterintuitively, they feel more European during the crisis because they feel like they have to prove the strength and cohesion of Europe as a whole. An interesting and rare opinion, especially from Northern European countries which tend to be net lenders of money, not receivers.
We went on to talk the whole bus ride back from Toledo- I'm sure the other people on the bus despised us and our invasive English. But we talked about work, politics, travel- the whole deal. The man turns out to be a teacher for people with learning disabilities- a hard job. He is a tall man, and I couldn't help but notice his ears were even big on him. On me they may have reached my shoulders. He went on to tell me his secret of teaching. He listens. Speaks as little as possible. Thus, he learns a lot through teaching.
I guess that's why he has such big ears.
As we were parting ways he gave me some good advice. In my studies, he said, I should talk to the people on the street as much as possible- often times they have more insight, despite less formal education, than the politicians and rulers. He told me that I would learn a lot more this way. And of this he is a prime example.
Its a good day when you learn something. One of those days that gives you a little more faith in humanity. And maybe a little more European identification as well.
A key concept we discussed was that of identity- how do you define and identify yourself? This is a huge component to European success and cohesion because if people don't feel European, they won't act European- they'll act in a way which benefits their country first. European identity had been doing quite well before the global economic crisis, but its harder to be so open-minded and accepting of foreign cultures in a recession. Money in your pocket tends to make you more idealistic.
So today waiting for a bus ride home from Toledo I met a couple on holiday from Holland. Of course I had to ask about their perception of the Union and how European they feel. Their answer was that they feel 'reasonably' European, but counterintuitively, they feel more European during the crisis because they feel like they have to prove the strength and cohesion of Europe as a whole. An interesting and rare opinion, especially from Northern European countries which tend to be net lenders of money, not receivers.
We went on to talk the whole bus ride back from Toledo- I'm sure the other people on the bus despised us and our invasive English. But we talked about work, politics, travel- the whole deal. The man turns out to be a teacher for people with learning disabilities- a hard job. He is a tall man, and I couldn't help but notice his ears were even big on him. On me they may have reached my shoulders. He went on to tell me his secret of teaching. He listens. Speaks as little as possible. Thus, he learns a lot through teaching.
I guess that's why he has such big ears.
As we were parting ways he gave me some good advice. In my studies, he said, I should talk to the people on the street as much as possible- often times they have more insight, despite less formal education, than the politicians and rulers. He told me that I would learn a lot more this way. And of this he is a prime example.
Its a good day when you learn something. One of those days that gives you a little more faith in humanity. And maybe a little more European identification as well.
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