Buenos dias, chicas y chicos. Writing essays in Spanish is very tiring, so I figured I would take some time to think in English. Much easier.
It all started on the top of a double decker bus in Dublin. The infamous Alex Reinhard had met me in the Dublin airport and we were on our way to delight in all of the spoils of Ireland, the land of our ancestors. We expected a lot out of the Emerald Isle, and we weren't dissapointed.
My first stop in Dublin was the Shelbourne Marriott Dublin, a Rennaissance Hotel (quick shout out to Mr. Eric Reinhard, the man who made it all possible). The room was the swankiest I have ever seen, and probably will see for some time. Apparantly, the Shelbourne is somewhat of an institution in Dublin. The Irish Constitution was signed there. Heads of State stay there. Politicians rub elbows in the downstairs bar. And now, it played host to the Reinthay Reunion Tour '08. Congratulations boys (also: breakfast was incredible).
Thanks to my roomate's habitually rediculous connections, we met some great Dublin locals who showed us around town. On St. Patty's we pulled a fairly standard Reinthay move and snuck into the Guiness Brewery completely on accident ("Wait a sec, these arrows are pointing the other way..."). A great start to a great day. The beer was cold and fresh, and from the top of the building you can see the city proper, the president's house, and the ocean. We listened to some live local music (the Auburn Marching Band also showed up at one point) as we toured the inner workings of the most famous brewery in the world. Everyone, everyone was in a jolly, "oh my God I'm actually here" mood. How could you not be? Drinking Guiness from the tap in the capital of Ireland on St. Patrick's Day is hard to beat.
Other incredible Irish memories: walking through St. Stephen's Green, Temple Bar district, touring the National Gallery, late night frisbee on the streets of North Dublin, and, of course, the Jameson Distillery (and all its fallout. Sine Metu)
After somehow making our 6am flight, the Reunion Tour continued, this time heading for Frankfurt, Germany. We sampled some of the local cuisine (frankfurters and apfel vine) in a charming plaza in the museum district and stood atop the former tallest building in Europe, the Maintower.
At first, the city and our timing seemed a tad dissapointing. We had arrived on a religous holiday and all of the famous museums were therefore closed. But life, once again, had something more important in store for us, as we were privy to a Good Friday service inside St. Bartholomeaus' Cathedral (one of the few buildings in downtown Frankfurt to survive WWII). Later, we watched as the Pastor lead the singing congregation along the riverfront to pray.
In the evening, we sampled some of Germany's famous "dicotec" culture and made our way to Cocoon Club. There was pulsing house music, eight euro jagermiester drinks, and a spaceship in the middle of the dance floor. That about says it all.
As I read this I realize just how fortunate I was to have such an amazing opportunity. The cities were amazing and the company was better still.
Next up: The Mathay family takes on Pais Vasco. Coming Soon!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
It's always sunny in Andalucia
Ahhh Andalucia, land of Flamenco dancing and bullfighting and Muslim architecture and wailing gypsy guitar. Our little group of twenty KU students made the treck down to Spain's sunny underbelly the first week of March, visiting three cities crucial to anyone's understanding of the region: Cordoba, Granada and Sevilla. We also saw how olive oil is made, que interesante.
Cordoba was the capital of the Muslim dominated south of Spain during the tenth and eleventh centuries, and at one time was the largest and most culturally advanced city in the Western World. Here Muslim's, Christians and Visogoth's all lived and prayed together in "relative peace", and the many crosses, cresents and stars of abraham dotting the city skyline reflect this. It is also home to La Mezquita de Cordoba, a completely unique mosque that is filled with hundreds of pillars supporting hundreds more red and white arches, creating the affect of walking through some spiritual forest of palms. This effect is partially ruined, of course, by the big, fat gothic cathedral that the conquering Catholics plopped right in the middle during the Reconquista, but still- very impressive. Other interesting tidbits: I ate Rabo de Toro (Bull's Tail) with Gazpacho, I had either the third or second best breakfast of my life in El Hotel Conquistador, I managed to avoid the crazy gypsies selling herbs and fortune tellings during lunch.
On to Granada, home to both Spain's most famous castle/palace, the Al-Hambra, and also one of its largest universites (only fifty thousand students). Translation: Two days full of incredible memories of palaces and cathedrals and gardens and views; two nights of which I remember very little. One of my favorite moments of this whole european trip, though, happened just inbetween the "phases" of Granada; sitting in the Mirador San Nicolas, watching the sun as it set behind the city and the beautiful castle/palace, listening to an old gypsy play his guitar and sing.* Words do it little justice.
Finally, we concluded our excursion with a run through Sevilla, land of the worst spanish speakers in the world. They don't pronuciate literal hal thei word, maki i really har to understan. A friend of my roomates described learning spanish in Sevilla like learning english in Glasgow. Imagine! Anyway, I also got to tour the third largest Cathedral in the world, get my picture taken with Chritopher Columbus' (alleged) bones, and walk through the gardens of Fernando and Isabella, the first rulers of Spain. Also, outside of Sevilla our group stopped in the ancient roman town of Italica, where I walked through its coliseum and fresco-lined ruines. I realized later it was the oldest thing built by man that I have ever seen.
It's funny how it sometimes takes being away from something to discover what it really means to you, but on the plane back to Santiago there was a general feeling that we were all going home. I love life, especially here.
Much has happened since my return, but this is a heavy test week and there is much to do. More to come, more to come!
Nos vemos pronto.
-Patrick
*do not buy his CD. Surprisingly, it doesn't work. Gypsies...
Cordoba was the capital of the Muslim dominated south of Spain during the tenth and eleventh centuries, and at one time was the largest and most culturally advanced city in the Western World. Here Muslim's, Christians and Visogoth's all lived and prayed together in "relative peace", and the many crosses, cresents and stars of abraham dotting the city skyline reflect this. It is also home to La Mezquita de Cordoba, a completely unique mosque that is filled with hundreds of pillars supporting hundreds more red and white arches, creating the affect of walking through some spiritual forest of palms. This effect is partially ruined, of course, by the big, fat gothic cathedral that the conquering Catholics plopped right in the middle during the Reconquista, but still- very impressive. Other interesting tidbits: I ate Rabo de Toro (Bull's Tail) with Gazpacho, I had either the third or second best breakfast of my life in El Hotel Conquistador, I managed to avoid the crazy gypsies selling herbs and fortune tellings during lunch.
On to Granada, home to both Spain's most famous castle/palace, the Al-Hambra, and also one of its largest universites (only fifty thousand students). Translation: Two days full of incredible memories of palaces and cathedrals and gardens and views; two nights of which I remember very little. One of my favorite moments of this whole european trip, though, happened just inbetween the "phases" of Granada; sitting in the Mirador San Nicolas, watching the sun as it set behind the city and the beautiful castle/palace, listening to an old gypsy play his guitar and sing.* Words do it little justice.
Finally, we concluded our excursion with a run through Sevilla, land of the worst spanish speakers in the world. They don't pronuciate literal hal thei word, maki i really har to understan. A friend of my roomates described learning spanish in Sevilla like learning english in Glasgow. Imagine! Anyway, I also got to tour the third largest Cathedral in the world, get my picture taken with Chritopher Columbus' (alleged) bones, and walk through the gardens of Fernando and Isabella, the first rulers of Spain. Also, outside of Sevilla our group stopped in the ancient roman town of Italica, where I walked through its coliseum and fresco-lined ruines. I realized later it was the oldest thing built by man that I have ever seen.
It's funny how it sometimes takes being away from something to discover what it really means to you, but on the plane back to Santiago there was a general feeling that we were all going home. I love life, especially here.
Much has happened since my return, but this is a heavy test week and there is much to do. More to come, more to come!
Nos vemos pronto.
-Patrick
*do not buy his CD. Surprisingly, it doesn't work. Gypsies...
Also, another word of caution to readers. Most of the following was done under the direction of Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises and Kerouac's On the Road, two literary staples of travel in northern Spain. If anything appears objectionable or misguided, I would suggest you talk with them. Lord knows I've never been accountable for my own actions.
A todos mis amigos y familia: dejadme paciencia y os daré el mundo.
As many, many of you have noted in your emails and skype conversations, I don't update this blog as often as I should. Indeed, in the time between my last post and the current one I have travelled though eight cities in four countries. As happens so often in my life, I have dug myself quite a hole. However, as I stumble through writing these next few blogs, please know that there is always more to come, and I would ask you to remember the words of Alexander Dumas: "All human wisdom is summed up in two words- wait and hope." I'm just taking some time to be super-wise.
Venga, Ciao
-Patrick
As many, many of you have noted in your emails and skype conversations, I don't update this blog as often as I should. Indeed, in the time between my last post and the current one I have travelled though eight cities in four countries. As happens so often in my life, I have dug myself quite a hole. However, as I stumble through writing these next few blogs, please know that there is always more to come, and I would ask you to remember the words of Alexander Dumas: "All human wisdom is summed up in two words- wait and hope." I'm just taking some time to be super-wise.
Venga, Ciao
-Patrick
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Barcelona
Barcelona. The most ridiculous place I have ever been, hands down.
We took a cab from the airport through the doggiest part of town to find our hostel, aptly titled “The Ideal Youth Hostel.” We shared the typical eight-person, one unisex bathroom suite, enjoying both the showers (no water on the sixth floor) and turndown service (you bring your sheets to your next room). The pictures of bleeding babies in Africa and HIV positive mothers giving birth that lined the walls of the lobby were a nice touch, like saying “So you think you’ve got it bad here, you selfish white boy?”. Ideal indeed.
Architecturally, the city has a different feel than any other place I have visited. From the streetlamps to the building tiling, everything is curvy or wavy or somehow different from what you’d expect. Nowhere is this more evident that in the city’s crown jewel, the famous La Segrada Familia temple. It is still another 30 to 80 years away from completion (which is so typically Spanish. “When will it be done?” “Meh, 30 years, 80 years, who knows…”) but it already is one of the most beautiful buildings in Europe. Honestly, the architect, Gaudi, had to be of the most unique minds of the 19th century to create something like that. I am definitely coming back when (if) it’s completed.
The Picasso Museum was awesome. The arrangement of the paintings allows you to follow his pregression from still life to avant guard to the advent of cubism. To all those who think Picasso is a hack who cannot paint "for real": 1) go to this museum. 2) turn off NASCAR. The building itself is worth the trip.
The Barcelona nightlife is absolutely absurd. Do go to the dock area, do not talk to the arab guys trying to sell you beer. Bad things happen.
One of the best things about Barcelona is its location. It’s nestled in between two mini-mountain range things that afford spectacular views of the whole town and the Mediterranean. Parc Guel, with its Guadi architecture and perfect view, is a must see.
My next trip will be to Andalucia, the stereotypical Spanish province to the south. Lots of “ole!” and killing bulls. We’ll see how it goes.
We took a cab from the airport through the doggiest part of town to find our hostel, aptly titled “The Ideal Youth Hostel.” We shared the typical eight-person, one unisex bathroom suite, enjoying both the showers (no water on the sixth floor) and turndown service (you bring your sheets to your next room). The pictures of bleeding babies in Africa and HIV positive mothers giving birth that lined the walls of the lobby were a nice touch, like saying “So you think you’ve got it bad here, you selfish white boy?”. Ideal indeed.
Architecturally, the city has a different feel than any other place I have visited. From the streetlamps to the building tiling, everything is curvy or wavy or somehow different from what you’d expect. Nowhere is this more evident that in the city’s crown jewel, the famous La Segrada Familia temple. It is still another 30 to 80 years away from completion (which is so typically Spanish. “When will it be done?” “Meh, 30 years, 80 years, who knows…”) but it already is one of the most beautiful buildings in Europe. Honestly, the architect, Gaudi, had to be of the most unique minds of the 19th century to create something like that. I am definitely coming back when (if) it’s completed.
The Picasso Museum was awesome. The arrangement of the paintings allows you to follow his pregression from still life to avant guard to the advent of cubism. To all those who think Picasso is a hack who cannot paint "for real": 1) go to this museum. 2) turn off NASCAR. The building itself is worth the trip.
The Barcelona nightlife is absolutely absurd. Do go to the dock area, do not talk to the arab guys trying to sell you beer. Bad things happen.
One of the best things about Barcelona is its location. It’s nestled in between two mini-mountain range things that afford spectacular views of the whole town and the Mediterranean. Parc Guel, with its Guadi architecture and perfect view, is a must see.
My next trip will be to Andalucia, the stereotypical Spanish province to the south. Lots of “ole!” and killing bulls. We’ll see how it goes.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
also, it should be noted that my roomates and I successfully exploded two eggs in our kitchen yesterday, covering both ourselves and every surface of la cocina in yolk and boiling water. Everyone is fine after a little burn cream from el hospital and some delicous tortilla espanola. Word to the wise: do not boil eggs in the microwave, even in europe.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Saving my soul in the Catholic Mecca
Man, this post is going to be long. I really need to get on these.
A while ago our group toured the north coast of Galicia, the province of Spain where I'm living (ask anyone here, though, and it is the "Autonomous Community of Galicia". They have their own language and culture and don't like being lumped in with the uberneo-cons from Madrid much). One of the things I remember the best was how incredibly green everything was, like Oregon on steriods. We first went to San Andreas de Texiedo, where the Apostle Andrew (Andreas) is buried. The people of Galicia are tradicionally superstitous, and this cite is a perfect example of it. Mar, our program director and a native Galician, told us about the attidude here about witches and other supernatural goings-on: "Crees en brujas?," pregunta un hombre. "No, no creo, pero existen," responde la mujer (for all the monolinguals:"Do you believe in witches? No, I don't believe in them, but they exist").
Anyway, so after winding through these tiny country roads and stopping in a few quiant country towns we arrived at San Andreas' town. It is no wonder the Romans thought they were at the end of the earth when they showed up a few thousand years ago. The land literally stops. Galicia is home to the highest cliffs in Europe, and Saint Andrew is buried right at the top of one of them. There is an incredible view of the sea, and the town is surrounded by farmland separated by criss-crossing hedgerows. There are cows all over, making it necessary to be very careful when you walked off the paths. We also had to be careful not to step on any bugs or frogs because the could be the souls of catholics that never came to San Andreas. I'll explain:
So although both the Apostles James (Santiago) and Andrew are buried here, Santiago got an incredible gothic cathedral that pilgrims from all over the world visit while Andreas is buried in a little chapel at the end of the world. Andrew is undestandibly a little pissed, and God agrees, so He makes it a rule that all good Catholics have to make a pilgrimage to San Andreas' tomb too, otherwise they will return as "bichos" (little creatures, like bugs or frogs). Therefore, the town is known as the Catholic "Mecca", as all good catholics are obliged to travel there once in their lives. Thus, my mortal soul is saved. Thank you, KU Office of Study Abroad!
We spent the rest of the day in two other typical Galician towns. Lunch: baguette with freshly sliced cheese, freshly picked apple, and a bottle of red wine. On the beach. Dinner: Cervesa and a cigar on the main plaza of some medieval city. Things could have been worse I guess.
Since then I have also been to Barcalona, but that kind of rediculosity requires a lot of energy to describe, and I am very tired. Hasta Luego.
A while ago our group toured the north coast of Galicia, the province of Spain where I'm living (ask anyone here, though, and it is the "Autonomous Community of Galicia". They have their own language and culture and don't like being lumped in with the uberneo-cons from Madrid much). One of the things I remember the best was how incredibly green everything was, like Oregon on steriods. We first went to San Andreas de Texiedo, where the Apostle Andrew (Andreas) is buried. The people of Galicia are tradicionally superstitous, and this cite is a perfect example of it. Mar, our program director and a native Galician, told us about the attidude here about witches and other supernatural goings-on: "Crees en brujas?," pregunta un hombre. "No, no creo, pero existen," responde la mujer (for all the monolinguals:"Do you believe in witches? No, I don't believe in them, but they exist").
Anyway, so after winding through these tiny country roads and stopping in a few quiant country towns we arrived at San Andreas' town. It is no wonder the Romans thought they were at the end of the earth when they showed up a few thousand years ago. The land literally stops. Galicia is home to the highest cliffs in Europe, and Saint Andrew is buried right at the top of one of them. There is an incredible view of the sea, and the town is surrounded by farmland separated by criss-crossing hedgerows. There are cows all over, making it necessary to be very careful when you walked off the paths. We also had to be careful not to step on any bugs or frogs because the could be the souls of catholics that never came to San Andreas. I'll explain:
So although both the Apostles James (Santiago) and Andrew are buried here, Santiago got an incredible gothic cathedral that pilgrims from all over the world visit while Andreas is buried in a little chapel at the end of the world. Andrew is undestandibly a little pissed, and God agrees, so He makes it a rule that all good Catholics have to make a pilgrimage to San Andreas' tomb too, otherwise they will return as "bichos" (little creatures, like bugs or frogs). Therefore, the town is known as the Catholic "Mecca", as all good catholics are obliged to travel there once in their lives. Thus, my mortal soul is saved. Thank you, KU Office of Study Abroad!
We spent the rest of the day in two other typical Galician towns. Lunch: baguette with freshly sliced cheese, freshly picked apple, and a bottle of red wine. On the beach. Dinner: Cervesa and a cigar on the main plaza of some medieval city. Things could have been worse I guess.
Since then I have also been to Barcalona, but that kind of rediculosity requires a lot of energy to describe, and I am very tired. Hasta Luego.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Back from Portugal. It was quite an experience.
Two cars, nine Americans, no map. hmmmmm. After driving a quick two and a half hours south we reached the city of Oporto, the second largest metropolitan area in Portugal. We had a set of directions from GoogleMaps and a general idea of where we were going ("Portugal is south, right?"), but, somehow, it all sort of fell apart. Our car missed the first exit, which didn't really matter because the other group followed the directions perfectly and wound up somewhere in the Portuguese ghetto. After stopping at a gas station in the boonies we got more directions and a map, but it still took us a good three hours to figure out the one-ways and get to the hostal.
Anyway, once we were there things got much better for some of us. The guys' room was on the fourth floor and had a balcony; the girls room was on the ground floor and we still aren't sure whether it was a real hotel room or a cellar.
The first day we took a boat tour down the river that runs through the center of the city. The hills on both sides create steep grades of multi-level apartment buildings and shops and restaurants. Many of the buildings have fronts made out intricate tile designs. There are several massive bridges that cross the river, and at one point we could see the sea crashing against the dyke. It was an awesome afternoon. There really is something to be said for sailing in the same waters as sixteenth century explorers.
That night we went out to the discotecs in "la zona industrial" of the city. It was very fun, and very expensive. That is all I will say about it here.
The next day, after much rest, we made our way to the beach. It felt strange to be looking back in the direction of the United States, like someone slapping you in the face and pointing at a map. "You are HERE!" But it was also beautiful and the sunset was one of the best I have ever seen.
Later we went to an exhibition on DaVinci in the Palacio Crystal, and finished the night with a McDonalds dinner. It was the swankiest McDonalds I had ever been in, complete with chandaliers and stained glass and mirrored walls. I ordered a Royal with Cheese and a beer. The beer was great; the Royal was not.
We made it back without any serious problems. And the Jayhawks won. Life is good.
Two cars, nine Americans, no map. hmmmmm. After driving a quick two and a half hours south we reached the city of Oporto, the second largest metropolitan area in Portugal. We had a set of directions from GoogleMaps and a general idea of where we were going ("Portugal is south, right?"), but, somehow, it all sort of fell apart. Our car missed the first exit, which didn't really matter because the other group followed the directions perfectly and wound up somewhere in the Portuguese ghetto. After stopping at a gas station in the boonies we got more directions and a map, but it still took us a good three hours to figure out the one-ways and get to the hostal.
Anyway, once we were there things got much better for some of us. The guys' room was on the fourth floor and had a balcony; the girls room was on the ground floor and we still aren't sure whether it was a real hotel room or a cellar.
The first day we took a boat tour down the river that runs through the center of the city. The hills on both sides create steep grades of multi-level apartment buildings and shops and restaurants. Many of the buildings have fronts made out intricate tile designs. There are several massive bridges that cross the river, and at one point we could see the sea crashing against the dyke. It was an awesome afternoon. There really is something to be said for sailing in the same waters as sixteenth century explorers.
That night we went out to the discotecs in "la zona industrial" of the city. It was very fun, and very expensive. That is all I will say about it here.
The next day, after much rest, we made our way to the beach. It felt strange to be looking back in the direction of the United States, like someone slapping you in the face and pointing at a map. "You are HERE!" But it was also beautiful and the sunset was one of the best I have ever seen.
Later we went to an exhibition on DaVinci in the Palacio Crystal, and finished the night with a McDonalds dinner. It was the swankiest McDonalds I had ever been in, complete with chandaliers and stained glass and mirrored walls. I ordered a Royal with Cheese and a beer. The beer was great; the Royal was not.
We made it back without any serious problems. And the Jayhawks won. Life is good.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Portugal
So tomorrow I am going to Portugal. I talked with the two portugese students in my grammer class and they told me all about Oporto and the wine country surrounding it. As the name betrays it is the home of Port wine, and the vinyard offers daily tours. Very excited.
There are eight of us in all, which means renting two tiny cars. Appartantly, the Portugese are crazier drivers than the Spanish, which I find hard to believe, but I guess I will see for myself soon enough.
I learned how to say "Where is the bathroom?" in Portugease/Spanish. "Donde esta la WC" meaning "Water Closet" in english.
Tonight a few of my american friends and a friend from argentina are coming over for dinner. We will be having the standard college student fiest: spaghetti and red wine. I guess some things really don't change, no matter where you are.
Ahora mismo tengo que salir. Hasta pronto.
There are eight of us in all, which means renting two tiny cars. Appartantly, the Portugese are crazier drivers than the Spanish, which I find hard to believe, but I guess I will see for myself soon enough.
I learned how to say "Where is the bathroom?" in Portugease/Spanish. "Donde esta la WC" meaning "Water Closet" in english.
Tonight a few of my american friends and a friend from argentina are coming over for dinner. We will be having the standard college student fiest: spaghetti and red wine. I guess some things really don't change, no matter where you are.
Ahora mismo tengo que salir. Hasta pronto.
Today I am officially a resident of the city of Santiago. After looking at a few places around town, I decided to live in a five bedroom flat in the new zone of the town. It is a pretty nice place, complete with all the modern amenities, including a kitchen, two bathrooms, and four Spanish roommates! The two I have spent some time with are great, and I think that my Spanish will improve mucho (es necessario. Ellos no hablan ingles). There are still some things that take a little getting used to, like the entire town shutting down from two to four for siestas, but I am getting more comfortable with the city now that I am out of the hostal. Classes are great too, and I get to walk right in front of the nine hundred year old cathedral when I go to north campus every morning. Those church bells are always, always on time.
The food here is great. We get fresh seafood everyday, the specialty of Galicia being octopus (el pulpo), and the little bocadillo shops around town offer some pretty good sandwich-type things for relatively cheap (cheap in Euros, that is…). I am in completely love with La Tarta de Santiago, this little almond cake covered in powdered sugar, so much so that the nice ladies that hand out free samples in the streets won’t give me any more until I buy something. Oh well, still delicious. I’ve tried a ton of new food, my favorite place being this Brazillian bocadillo place, owned by the nicest Brazillian man and his wife. And no, I have not been to either McDonalds or Burger King since being here (Santiago is actually trying to put a warning label on one Burger King burger like the labels they have on ciggarettes. Apparantly, the Spanish government determined that it alone has more calories than is healthy for a human to consume in an entire day)
All for now, and I will try my best to get more of these up. We are pilfering wireless from someone in our building and it only works on the other side of the piso, so it happens when it happens I guess.
The food here is great. We get fresh seafood everyday, the specialty of Galicia being octopus (el pulpo), and the little bocadillo shops around town offer some pretty good sandwich-type things for relatively cheap (cheap in Euros, that is…). I am in completely love with La Tarta de Santiago, this little almond cake covered in powdered sugar, so much so that the nice ladies that hand out free samples in the streets won’t give me any more until I buy something. Oh well, still delicious. I’ve tried a ton of new food, my favorite place being this Brazillian bocadillo place, owned by the nicest Brazillian man and his wife. And no, I have not been to either McDonalds or Burger King since being here (Santiago is actually trying to put a warning label on one Burger King burger like the labels they have on ciggarettes. Apparantly, the Spanish government determined that it alone has more calories than is healthy for a human to consume in an entire day)
All for now, and I will try my best to get more of these up. We are pilfering wireless from someone in our building and it only works on the other side of the piso, so it happens when it happens I guess.
What a city. I really don’t think any words or pictures can do this incredible place justice, but I’m going to try anyway. I arrived in the Santiago de Compostela airport last Friday, after flying about eight and a half hours to get to Madrid Barajas. After making our connection, our group of about twenty students had about a fifteen minute bus ride into the city and we were able to see a little bit of the countryside. One word: green. Galicia gets more rain than anywhere else in Spain, and it definitely shows. Everywhere moss and grass tries to overtake the footpaths that criss-cross campus and the city proper. Ivy makes its way up forty foot palm trees, which cross branches with sixty foot pines. Where else does that happen? And people keep reminding me this is the middle of January…
The city is split into two sections: the old historic zone dating back to the middle ages and the newer zone surrounding it. Walking around the old zone is, to use the cliché, like stepping back in time. Restaurant owners display the days catch in the windows (we are only 30 km from the Atlantic), and artisans play their instruments in the narrow, winding cobblestone streets. These streets, turned into canyons by the four and five story apartments lining them, could at any time open up into huge city squares containing fountains or gardens or statues.
As for the cathedral, it is the one thing I don’t know how to describe here, besides saying that it is very, very big and very, very old. Ernest Hemingway called it the most beautiful he ever saw. I guess there is a reason Santiago is the third holiest site in Christianity, behind only the Vatican and Jerusalem.
That is all for now.
The city is split into two sections: the old historic zone dating back to the middle ages and the newer zone surrounding it. Walking around the old zone is, to use the cliché, like stepping back in time. Restaurant owners display the days catch in the windows (we are only 30 km from the Atlantic), and artisans play their instruments in the narrow, winding cobblestone streets. These streets, turned into canyons by the four and five story apartments lining them, could at any time open up into huge city squares containing fountains or gardens or statues.
As for the cathedral, it is the one thing I don’t know how to describe here, besides saying that it is very, very big and very, very old. Ernest Hemingway called it the most beautiful he ever saw. I guess there is a reason Santiago is the third holiest site in Christianity, behind only the Vatican and Jerusalem.
That is all for now.
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