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May 31, 2006
Adios, Cádiz...
The last few weeks in Cádiz were some of the busiest weeks but also certainly some of the best. I had final essays to wrap up for independent studies, and three tests for courses in the Cádiz University. They all turned out well and I was pleased with the final grades, which brings to an end my undergraduate college career.
When I didn’t have my head in my notes, trying to absorb as much information as I could for ambiguous final exams, I had some great opportunities to spend time with local and European friends. Last Thursday the Spanish grammar course class got together with all the other grammar students from other levels for a barbeque on the beach. (But barbeques apparently aren’t allowed anymore on the beaches, so it was just sort of a potluck.) I realized that that class, which was small and met 8 hours a week, had actually gotten to know each other pretty well, and I probably had taken that class for granted. Those from my class planned together then one last time before I left, which took place Monday night at our teacher Teresa’s place. That was another good time to share stories, plans, and then, goodbyes. Most of the other students were staying until the end of June for the normal testing dates. There was also the visit to Jose’s family’s house on Sunday, and a visit with German friend Tobias yesterday at his apartment with some ice cream and coffee.
It’s been interesting that I came expecting to learn something about Europe with the Erasmus students, but not nearly as much as I would learn about Spain. I suppose that has been the case, but I didn’t expect to be able learn some things about Spain through of discussions and comparisons in conversations with other Europeans.
Learning certainly has no end either. I was learning things about Cádiz up to the day I left (like where the famous Torre Tavira was). On the plane from Madrid to New York I ended up next to a really interesting character named Andrés Dominguez. He was born in 1926, and began writing poetry when he was young. His art and political perspective led him to France during the civil war, but he was captured, returned, tortured, and found his way out again, this time to Argentina. The rest of his life he would spend mostly out of his home country, with significant time in Chile (where he met Pablo Neruda), Bolivia, and the last twenty two years in the US. He continues to write and also teach some in the Spanish literature department at New York’s Columbia University. Since the Franco dictatorship ended in 1975, he has been back and forth between Madrid and New York to visit his siblings and friends there. Between his travels and conflicts with governments, he seems just as much a historian and a political analyst as he is a writer.
I’m writing from the New York airport as I wait for my connecting flight to BWI, where I’ll meet my parents and travel home to Lancaster, bringing nearly five months of travel to a close. My talk with Andrés brought together a number of things that I have been thinking and learning about since coming to Spain, and at the same time opened up the experience of a new person, with new ideas and stories. There is a world of unique people and experiences to be encountered. One chapter closes and another begins, but there’s always a greater understanding to be discovered ahead...
Posted by Derrick at 01:18 PM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2006
Andalucía and the Collision of Kingdoms
A reflection for an independent study, Civilization of Spain.
Andalucía and the Collision of Kingdoms
Andalucía y la Colisión de Reinos
Posted by Derrick at 10:56 AM | Comments (0)
May 17, 2006
A world in movement
A reflection for my independent study, Voces: Immigration Stories.
Posted by Derrick at 11:03 AM | Comments (0)
May 12, 2006
A vacation with my fiancé
On Monday May 1, I rode a bus overnight to Madrid. It was a long and restless night as I had expected. We pulled into the Méndez Álvaro bus station around 7:00 in the morning, and as soon as the doors were opened, I was on my feet and hurrying to find the T1 arrival area in Barajas airport. The flight from Philadelphia that I had waited for a few long months was finally on the ground. I watched dozens of people walk through the door with wide eyes and big smiles as they met their people. Then it was our turn. Rebekah came into the room, I called out her name and we were finally together!
Our bus to return to Cádiz didn’t leave until 3:00, so we spent some of our first hours catching up in the airport and then exploring the city. We looked for what appeared to be a park on the metro’s map, but ended up being an industrial area. We eventually moved along to the bus station to begin the long bus ride back to Cádiz. After lots of conversations we made our way into the Tacita de Plata at around 10:30 or so in the evening. Although it was raining some, we were anxious to stretch our legs so we walked part of the way back to Antonio and Isabel’s house. We met my host parents, who were somewhat startled that I would bring my fiancé who was tired from travel and carrying a heavy backpack through the rain to get there. Anyhow we cleaned up, ate some light food and called it a day.
The next few days we spent in Cádiz exploring the city and talking about how many classes I could afford to skip. It was a relaxing time to share together, but we certainly did a lot of things too: visiting the Santa Catalina fortress, walking along the beaches, in the plazas and parks, eating churros with hot chocolate, visiting the museum, meeting host family members, taking in some flamenco, and other activities. On Saturday we took a fun little trip over to El Puerto de Santa María on the boat El Vapor de Cádiz.
The following morning we took a train to the famous Andalucian city of Granada. A quick historical note: in 1492, the Italian Columbus sailed west for Spain and found himself in what he thought was the Indies. That same year the Catholic king Ferdinand of Aragon and queen Isabella of Castile had two other significant kingdom achievements: their Inquisition expelled the Jews from the country and they took control of Granada the last Muslim stronghold of Al-Andalus. The moriscos were the Muslims who stayed and were Christianized, others left and others were killed.
A half millennium later, this history is still told through the architecture throughout the city, and most impressively in the famous Alhambra. Rebekah and I spent the better part of our Monday exploring the different parts of the ancient “red castle.” We began by seeing the oldest part section, the Alcazaba (13th century) which has a great view of the city and the surrounding Sierra Nevada mountains. We continued into the Casa Real, the Palace from the Nasrid dynasty which was filled with halls, fountains, pools, and incredibly detailed designs along the walls and ceilings. Of the later Christian additions, the most significant is the palace of Carlos V. It doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the architecture of the Alhambra, but it’s still an impressive Renaissance work. Up the hill is the Generalife, which is a beautiful gardens area maintained in the ancient Moorish style.
On Tuesday we took some time to explore other corners of the city, including the Albaicín. This neighborhood has some original houses that apparently date back to the 15th century. It was historically an Arab quarter, but today is largely inhabited by gitanos, or gypsies. We took in the two designated look-out points which give another impressive view of the Alhambra, city and mountains.
Rebekah and I decided to move towards Madrid the next day and took the five-hour bus to the capital city. We dropped off our things at a hostel, got a bite to eat, and set out to explore the city some. I had just made contact with the first and cheapest place I found, and we were surprised that it happened to be just a few blocks away from the Royal Palace. Although the large park that sits down the hill behind the Palace was closed for the evening, we had a great view of the sunset from the Palace patio.
The next morning Rebekah and I pulled our things together took our metro ride to the airport. We said our “see you in less than three weeks,” and she made her way to her gate. Until my bus would leave at 3:00 in the afternoon, I tried to entertain myself by walking in the Gran Retiro park and seeing the glass palace and other monuments and buildings there. A long ride back to Cádiz brought our ten-day adventure to a close.
Posted by Derrick at 09:37 AM | Comments (0)
May 05, 2006
Rebekah's here!
Posted by Derrick at 02:24 PM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2006
Día del Trabajador
On May 1, 1886, labor unions in Chicago organized to protest excessive hours and unsafe working conditions. Two days later, the police violently put down the strike, killing two and wounding others. A rally followed, which also ended in violence, and policemen and civilians alike died in the confrontation.
May Day is celebrated internationally as a legal holiday commemorating the Chicago workers who died in the protest. I remember how in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, the working children’s organization I was with participated in a march on May 1st. When we arrived at the center plaza, some of the organizers of the day’s events were calling out to remember the Chicago martyrs. I didn’t remember hearing the story before and found it strange how other countries would commemorate protest victims in the U.S., while the U.S. chooses to celebrate Labor Day in September.
After looking into it a little, I learned that in 1887 President Cleveland wanted to distance the Labor Day holiday from the socialist and anarchist organizers in Chicago’s Haymarket riots. It seems that in general, that decision successfully hid a tragedy that many other countries recognize as a symbol for the struggle for justice for working people.
Today I understand that the U.S. immigrant population has proposed a 24-hour strike to demonstrate the economic weight that immigrants carry in “a day without an immigrant.” I’m not sure how many immigrants will feel like they can jeopardize their jobs for a change in national awareness or policy. At the same time, I hope that whatever happens might happen peacefully and successfully encourage the nation to be less concerned about protecting the English national anthem and more concerned about economic and social justice.
Posted by Derrick at 05:46 PM | Comments (0)
A weekend at the fair
Every spring Andalucía begins to celebrate the year’s fairs. Sevilla holds one of the most famous and earliest, and from there each town takes their turn celebrating their week-long fair. The roots of the fairs celebrate the year’s livestock, and today the tradition of bullfighting and the display of fine horses are still an important part.
On Saturday, I went with a local friend to Puerto de Santa María for the afternoon to see what a feria, the Andaluz fair, is like. The fairgrounds are typically a little outside of town, and we took a short bus ride leaving behind the quiet town and arriving at the event that brought thousands from the Puerto and beyond.
They was energy and color everywhere, from the big fair doorway that stands at the fair entrance, to the elaborate flamenco dresses that they women wore, to the decorations on the horses and carriages. You might say there is are traditional and modern halves to the fairground. The traditional side is lined with tents that serve the local tapas and wine while people try to dance the sevillanos to the live music. Apparently the sevillanos are somewhat complicated, but the inexperienced and experienced alike join in the dance, which looks something like a mix between flamenco and a line dance (at least to someone who really doesn’t understand the dance world). The “modern” half of the fair includes all the rides, games, and snacks like cotton candy and donuts. In either half, every corner is filled is people, music, and the air of the feria.
The bullfight of the week was on Sunday afternoon. I had bought my ticket in advance, but the turnout was small and made the 12,000 seat stadium look pretty empty. Apparently the Puerto’s Plaza de Toros is the second largest in Spain. The summer bullfighting season begins in June or July, and more turn out for those weekly events. For the fair, the bullfights of the day would be a little different than the typical style where the bullfighter stands in the center with his red cape. Instead, Sunday’s event was on horseback, so the bullfighters would need to be masters of two animals at the same time.
The match begins as the bullfighter rides his horse out to the center and they release the crazed bull who races around the ring. The bullfighter wears him down by running back and forth and soon begins to stab these decorated batons into its back. It doesn’t take long for it to become a bloody event, but the idea is for the bullfighter to kill the bull with ease and style. He tries to finish the bull off by using a sword into his back at the end of the match. If the bull still doesn’t fall, the bullfighter dismounts his horse, gets the bull to stand still and bow his head, the bullfighter sticks the bull in the back of the head and the bull collapses. According to the applause of the audience and the judgment of the balcony of directors, they may award an ear, two ears, or at best, two ears and a tail for the bullfighter’s performance.
Outside the stadium is some graffiti that reads “¡Toreros Asesinos!” and “¡que vivan los toros en el campo!”: “Bullfighters are assassins!” and “Let the bulls live out in the field!”, respectively. I might have to agree. I understand that bullfighting has been outlawed in Barcelona’s province, but in most of Spain the tradition is still alive and well. It’s certainly an icon for Spain, and that doesn’t seem like something that they would give up easily.
Posted by Derrick at 05:44 PM | Comments (0)