A Hike in Spain

     Most of my entries regarding Peru involved hiking in some way or another, and although I am a terribly slow hiker I really do enjoy it. Someone suggested a hike around Escorial, a tomb/basilica/seminary/school/ summer home for the king, considered one of the best manifestations of architectural prowess in Spain. However, I did not know that at the time that we passed it, and failed to give it the proper attention that it deserved. (I don't think that I will ever be cultured enough to recognize a masterpiece if I'm not directly notified of it) 
     After passing Escorial we wended our way through a forest that was beginning to hint at fall, and slowly worked our way upwards. Although Madrid is situated in a desert-like area, you couldn't tell that there was a lack of water in this area. 

     We reached the top, and although the view wasn't as spectacular as any hike we did in Peru it was still nice to be up so high, and to be so far outside of the city. While writing this entry I feel a surprising twinge of longing for Peru. (the only time I have really missed it other than now is when thinking about my host family) I had started to take for granted its breathtaking vistas that are visible and astonishing whether you climb for 45 minutes or for two days. I began to think that any climb in any part of the world would result in the same beautiful view, but I find now that I am wrong, and this makes me appreciate my summer experience even more. However I feel very lucky any time that I am able to see a landscape from above, and this one was quite nice. 

Galicia

(I know I'm going out of order on these posts, but I like to write about whatever tickles my fancy at the moment.)

     Our latest school trip was to Galicia, an area in the Northwest of Spain that boasts deep Celtic ties due to its proximity to Ireland. Also, the climate and the physical features (so we were told) are akin to those in Scandinavia  Although, never having been to Scandinavia, I am unable to verify that,  I can say that Galicia was the most beautiful and different part of Spain that I have ever seen. There were waving hills that became massive rock cliffs which dropped into the unrepentant and violent Atlantic and beaches of glittering mica. 

     First we went to the Tower of Hercules, climbed it, and left. Afterwards we drove into Coruna, a city in Galicia, and explored. While there, a couple of us went to the beach and "waded" (got soaked) in the rollicking waves that would both barely touch your toes and submerge you thing deep if you stood in one place for over a minute. That night we stayed in cabins in the country side, and saw traditional Gallegan dancing.
     The next day we saw the church of San Andres. Every Gallegan is required to make a pilgrimage here at least once, or else they will be reincarnated as lizards and insects (which is why you are encouraged not to step on lizards and insects in this area). 

     At San Andres you can also make a wish by tying a piece of cloth around a tree or a fence, which will come true once a strong wind blows and it falls. None of us had spare pieces of cloth, so we used the baby wipes that I carry on trips (proving once again how eternally useful they are).

     Finally, they took us to the top of a hill that flowed into the ocean, a nice change of pace from the usual of just seeing museums, palaces, and cathedrals. 

    Finally, we went to Santiago de Compostela, a church that is the end of "El Camino de Santiago", a pilgrimage that people from all over the world undertake. It started out hundreds of years ago as a way for people to absolve themselves of their sins, and continues to serve that purpose today, as well as provide adventure. Also, jailed convicts can serve the final throes of their sentence by doing the pilgrimage. We weren't allowed to spend much time in the church, as it was during mass, but they did take us up to the roof!

Sevilla

     After a jaunt around Granada we found ourselves in Sevilla, a city in Andalucia, where we toured more cathedrals and palaces of Spanish royalty. The cathedral was absolutely gorgeous, but I again did not have my camera (this time because the battery alternated between saying it was half full and almost empty... I optimistically decided that it was half-full, which was blatantly wrong). Thus no cathedral pictures, but the palace had some interesting features that are worth sharing.    
     Sevilla (or Seville in English) has a Mediterranean feel, illustrated by the vegetation surrounding the palace. 

     Due to the sweltering weather (it was about 90 in September) the first thing one comes across upon entering is a shaded mosaic room used for midday siesta escapes. As in the Alhambra, the mosaic stones are all hand placed in the most meticulous of manners. 

     The gardens are all lush despite the heat, and are apparently the perfect spot to raise a peacock family.

     The palace also sported Alhambra like ceilings, painted in gold and the deepest jewel tones. 

     The bedrooms were quite amazing as well.  The prince's quarters had no windows as a measure of protection. It was oblong, so that there would be room for troops to guard him, and between him and his army stood a mere sheet for privacy.  It was is this palace that either a Spanish or perhaps French heir to the throne died by heart attack whilst making love, forcing the retiring king to come back and rule for many more years. The women's quarters were heavily decorated with huge windows and patios, an apparent attempt at recreating Eden. This was because the women were not allowed to leave the palace, but the ruling family tried to make the building so beautiful that the women would never leave  by choice rather than force. The beauty within the palace can be seen in this inside patio that had been built over but then unearthed in later years. 

     Despite the resplendence of the palace I was most intrigued by the dungeons- the king, infatuated by his lover, honored her request to convert the dungeons into a bathing pool, as it was the area in the palace least subjected to the scorching heat of summer. The pool is shallow, but longer than some swimming pools, and at the end there are three holes- one for hot water, one for warm, and one for cool. 

     I enjoyed this part of the tour the most because the pool was created as a manifestation of the king's love with but one woman in mind, yet hundreds of years later the story is told to people all over the world who come to marvel at its innovation. 

Granada

     As part of our program travel to various parts of Spain, after attending a thorough lecture. Our first trip came only a week after our arrival -and before our real classes even began- and took us to the Southern areas of Andalucia and Granada. Spain consists of 17 autonomous regions, each which has a very distinct culture. Granada is infamous for being the last area that the Moors held, and that Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand had to retake before Spain was complete. Thus one finds a very strange mixture of European and Arab influences in the art and architecture of Granada. 
     Our most significant stop there was the Alhambra, a fort/palace resplendent with ancient art and years of history. (We also saw the church where Ferdinand and Isabel were buried, which was the most amazing part of Granada, but I forgot my camera and thus will not talk about it here) We saw it first at night while walking to dinner, where it sits peacefully in a grove of trees, watching over the city. 

     The next day, we took a tour to end all tours and were educated on the significance of every. single. inch. of the Alhambra.  The architecture of the whole thing was very thought out safety wise- here you can see that this building was designed so that an attacker could only view a certain number of windows at a time, and thus  would have a harder time laying siege on the building. 

     Everything in the Alhambra was handmade and hand carved, including huge wooden walls covered in the most intricate designs, only slightly weather-beaten. 

     The Arab influence in the Alhambra was quite obvious, and the water features were gorgeous. The Alhambra also offered the best view of the city, where the white buildings peek out of the surrounding vegetation. 

     The Alhambra also sported a series of exotic gardens that had almost as many fountains as it did plants, a welcome respite after an hours long walking tour. 

     

Next Adventure, First Week of Classes

     After a summer of skedaddling around the US to see some of the people I was pining for while in Urumbamba,  I embarked on my last big traveling adventure for a while, a semester studying abroad in Madrid, Spain. Upon arrival at our four bedroom (although modest) city apartment Annie (my roommate) and I introduced ourselves to our host mother, Maria Jesus, host father Blas (a butcher), and host sister Aitana, who is our age and full of sage advice regarding Spanish malls, teens, culture, and men. The next day we arose at 7 (1 in the morning American time) to attend an orientation where we were harangued for 3 days with salient facts regarding the culture, as well as admonitions against all of the bad things that we could possibly do in Madrid, as well as the world. The embassy was also kind enough to visit and outline what we should do in case of an international emergency, but ended with the final note that if we were to land in jail they could not get us out, but would visit every ninety days upon request. 
       After two weeks of being abroad, classes finally began. More harrowing than taking four classes in a foreign language was registration, which opened at 8:30 a.m. and was first-come-first-serve. Feeling ambitious as well as apprehensive about not getting the classes we wanted, Annie and I arrived at the school at 6:30 a.m. only to find that we were 21 and 22 on the list of eager beavers who were already there, the earliest who had trekked to the school in the wee hours of the morning and arrived at 3:30 a.m. 
      As Duke students, we have three classes in Spanish with only other Duke students, and one taken with the local Spanish university members. Five minutes into our university class and the differences were already striking. We had been carefully instructed in our hours of orientation about proper classroom etiquette. While stretching in class is viewed as a sign of disrespect, eating is prohibited. We Americans were also confronted on our first day with an elevated sense of fashion and wisps of cigarette smoke that none of us possessed. The class was (and is) clearly delineated between Americans and Spaniards- we arrived early and crowded nervously into the front desks, while the natives arrived on time and sat in the back. 
     The professor strolled in, and we collectively leaned forward in a futile attempt to understand everything she said, as well as in hopes of displaying our obvious respect for her. She talked for a bit, and upon mentioning something about Abercrombie finally opening a store in Spain (it was an advertising course), and the room erupted. The Americans sat in silence as the students in the back spoke excitedly to each other. We waited for the uproar to cease but it didn't; they talked and talked and talked while we waited for the teacher to get angry, or at least shush them. Instead, she stood patiently in front of the room until it died down a bit ad she began to speak again. After this happened a few times, it was apparent that this was a norm, for this class at least. I no longer felt like our (American) refusal to always dress nicely for class or to refrain from consuming a meal during a Powerpoint rendered us disrespectful students, but rather that it was interesting how the Spanish education system cherishes such different rules from our own. Hopefully we will soon be able to navigate these new rules gracefully and without the obvious and defining air of gringos. 

So. Cold.

     Our last four days in Urumbamba- full of expectations of fun, goodbyes, and frantically chasing after loose ends. At noon on this Saturday I thought that I would be in the plaza, eating ice cream and watching the jungle hippies do their yoga, or perhaps buying the photo album that I am going to fill with pictures as a thank-you gift to my family. Instead I am huddled under the covers, shivering, as ice cold rain falls outside and the wind seeps through the unheated house (houses in Urumbamba do not have heat or air conditioning, and the weather is mild enough that they are (usually) unneeded). It is winter here, and their dry season. Thus far the nights have been a bit chilly but the days sunny and hot. And then, a few days ago, it started to rain. 
      It hasn't stopped since. 
     There are periods of an hour or two where it lets up, and everyone scurries to where they need to be. The locals are all absolutely shocked at the forecast, especially since the rain is expected to continue into Wednesday. The mountains that surround the town are shrouded in icy white clouds, and Chicon, the glacier we climbed to, has apparently appeared to expand to twice its size and descended down the side of the mountain due to the sudden onslaught of snow. There is also snow on the ground 20 minutes away in an area in which snow is a foreign concept... kudos global warming. 
     We were also supposed to help build a school Friday but could not due to the rain. On a personal note, I am on my 4th day of not showering because the cold weather along with cold shower water disallows it. Inside it is so cold that the water in my water bottle is too frigid to brush my teeth with (I powered through in the name of dental hygiene, though). Sometimes I fill my water bottle with hot water and take it to bed with me. 
      Four more days... I will miss my host family dearly, but I also have spent the past month looking up recipes for American food that I miss... four days til home and I'm back with the family! 
      

Watia

     As I was sick for the past week I was not able to partake in either Corpus Christi (a festival of Saints, though on this day I had seven different types of meat for lunch- fish eggs, guinea pig skin, salted pork, unsalted pork, sausage, cow, and chicken) or the much revered Inti Raymi (festival of the sun), where citizens dress up and dance throughout the ruins of Saqsaywaman (one of our first field trips, one of my first blogs), and give services in Quechua, the native language. However I am glad to have stayed home and taken part of the building of the traditional watia (wah-tee-uh), a sort of adobe and dirt oven. Families build their watia during the festival of Inti Raymi, and cook a special sort of potato (they have countless different kinds here) and other foods.

     Ours was constructed in the back yard- Papi dug a sort a shallow hole in the backyard, and then broke adobes with a pick into small pieces (for some reason EVERY SINGLE person in Urumbamba has a pick and extra adobe bricks, of which their house is usually constructed). He then had me and the host brother help him construct a circle of large adobe pieces, and then a row of smaller ones on top of that. First, however, he constructed the door by skillfully making an adobe arch. Eventually I became afraid of breaking the little house (my right ear has ceased to work since last Monday, and my balance is very off because of it) so I contented myself carrying broken adobes to Papi and playing photographer.

     The taller and more precarious it became, the further I stayed away, but the resident niece, Karelly took over my spot. Eventually Papi and Eduardo balanced rocks into a rounded top, and we all threw dirt on it to seal in  the crack . Then, a fire was started within the structure and potatoes were set next to it to bake in the sun.

     After the fire had burned the watia black, the potatoes were thrown into the door, and the destruction began. First, a shovel was used to push the top stones down onto the fire and first layer of potatoes, and the second layer of potatoes was put in. Then dirt and more stones, and this time, chicken covered in corn husks. More dirt was thrown on, more rocks thrown down, and finally 2 bananas were placed very close to the top. The entire thing was smothered in even more dirt, so that all heat and smoke was trapped inside.

    After a short amount of time, everything was carefully unburied. We ate, and though I could not taste anything due to my illness, I could tell it was delicious.