A Few of My Favorite Things

Now that we've been back a while, I can admit to being completely nostalgic for a few things from our previous life, right? Here goes, in no particular order:

Carrer de Lleo, Our Street

I always loved walking home, seeing all the same people going about the same business on our block. It's just not the same kind of community in a car-culture. I wonder if the neighbors miss me as much as I miss them?

Never Knowing What You're Going to Get

When we first arrived in Spain, I was longing for familiar foods like burritos, but I quickly became a fan of trying dishes I previously never considered food items, such as Rabo de Toro (Bull's Tail):

Weekdays Between 6pm and 9pm

This is when the neighbors come out on the plazas to have a beer or a chat or a kiddie game of street ball. The whole world slows down, lets the day go and actually enjoys time outside with friends. It's a beautiful thing.

Totally Un-P.C. and Sometimes Just Wrong

I once wrote about how the Spanish can seem offensive when viewed through an uber-politically correct American lens, but sometimes their awkward humor is just down right funny. I loved seeing odd uses of the American language, such as the following name for a clothing store. Do you think Granny realizes what she's posing under?

Celebrating Barsa

Clearly, if you read this blog, you know we are devout Barsa fans. Watching every game at BJ's 100 Club with all of these crazy fans was definitely the highlight of every week. We still stream the games live from our laptops, but jumping up and down by one's lonesome just ain't the same.

Sunday Paella

Is there anything on earth more tasty-looking? I don't think so.

For my birthday is this weekend and I'm making myself a big pot of paella to help cure my Spanish-homesickness. The Sunday Paella tradition lives on...!!!

 Note: This list does NOT include any of our dear friends we miss terribly. Come visit!

'A Wonderful Nightmare' in Sevilla

A few weekends ago in Sevilla, we were getting a taste of the southern Spanish culture before heading back to the States. The city's bullring just so happened to be across the street from our hotel and when in Sevilla...

I've seen a corrida once before, in Pamplona, while hiking the Camino de Santiago:

 From this dusty road, we wandered into this frenzied party. Someone passed me a calimocho (vino con cola), put their arm around my neck and then, I was swaying back and forth, along with the entire stadium of people, faking the lyrics to a traditional song.

The thrilling, beautiful world of colors, culture, history and passion, swept me away. I remember being awe-struck by the purity of the man versus beast theatre happneing below and captivated by the warm embrace of my fellow fans:

Six years later, in Sevilla, it was an entirely different scene - no shade in the sweltering Sunday heat, no padding on the concrete benches, no singing, no drinking and well, a few more years of contemplation on the tradition. 

I think Ernest Hemmingway summed it up best when he described the spectale as "a wonderful nightmare."

I am still drawn to the simplicity of the setting - an architecturally beautiful ring full of people all waiting to see a spectacle of man versus beast. 


And then the angry bull, suddenly, comes charging into the ring:

The ritual begins with several torreros, who taunt the bull with their bright pink capes in an attempt to tire him out: 

Things then turn gruesome. A horseman with a large spear comes parading out on a blindfolded horse and stabs the bull repeatedly. It is cruel. Seeing this for the first time (sober), Ted and I almost left.

Once the horseman has done his business, another man appears, holding two short spears, which he sticks directly into the bull's neck with one swift, precisly timed movement.

The bull, now visibly bleeding, is in the center of the ring. The matador, in a sparkly outfit, approaches, ready to perform the final act. 

He completely controls the tired bull, twirling it in circles with his flashy cape. There is indeed something beautiful in the moving shapes and shadows as they go about their macabre dance. After several minutes of show, a sword appears in the matador's hands, and with one motion, he drives it into the bulls heart.

Hopefully now, the torture is done, and the bull drops dead to the ground. If the crowd thinks the matador did a good job (whatever that means), they will wave a white flag called an 'oreja', an ear to show their approval. 

The crowd goes wild and quickly, a team of horses sweeps the dead animal away with men brushing up the dripping blood:

I don't ever need to see another bullfight, but they were experiences I will never forget. 

To Make: Paella!

It seemed fitting that before my dear friend Caterina left Barcelona to work as a chef in a Pyrenean mountain lodge - I miss her already!!! - a group of us got together to make a giant Catalan paella in her honor.

Each region of Spain has it's own take on paella and Catalonia isn't especially well-known for it's particular version but I can't get enough!

 The following recipe is a combined effort of many of Caterina's friends remembering how their Catalan mother / grandmother used to make it. I was a very happy observer in this undertaking.

One thing everyone agreed upon: only fresh seafood will do. Don't bother otherwise.

Seafood per person

2 large prawns in shells

3 mussels

3 clams

1/4 lb squid

Other than the seafood, the remaining ingredients are easy to find:

Ingredients (for 6 people)

3 cups of white short-grain rice

6 cups of fish stock

olive oil

6 cloves of garlic, minced

2 onions, chopped

24 oz of chopped tomatoes in juice (canned or fresh)

2 tbs of red bell pepper paste

Handful of peas

1/4 cup chopped parsley

(optional: one chopped carrot, red pepper, green pepper, if you are feeling healthy)

Note: they tell me saffron is just for color and tourists. Who knew?

First, soak the mussels and clams in salty water so excess sand dissolves. Throw away any shells that don't close once in water, but then reopen them with a knife once they are clean.

Next, chop the squid into thin, bite-sized strips. You may have to use scissors for the tough parts:

In a large pan, heat the olive oil and add the onion (and carrot / peppers). Once soft, add the can of tomatoes with juice and the squid strips. Stir this mixture for about 15 minutes until the squid soaks up all the juices. 

In another pan, stir-fry the un-peeled shrimp until they turn an appetizingly pinkish-orange color and set aside:

Next, add the peas, rice and parsley to the squid and let heat for a moment. Then add fish stock, clams and mussels and stir until the rice gets completely cooked. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Finally, arrange the seafood in an beautiful pattern and viola! 

The paella was surprisingly easy to make and more delicious than anything I've been served in a restaurant. As for Caterina, she is the best too!

Spanish Indignos Revolt

So begins the revolution....

They're calling themselves indignos (indignant people)...

...and Generation Tahir:

They're normal people, fed up with the disengaged Spanish government and it's inability to do anything about the unbelievable unemployment rate (41% for young workers) among other economic crises. They're camping out in Plazas across Spain, demanding the government do more:

Ted and I, along with friends from Oakland, Rebecca and Martin, went down to Plaza Catalunya last week to check out the scene. We couldn't help but smile to see so many people, united, peacefully demanding the government change, do something to help it's people.

But yesterday, the peace was abruptly broken at 7AM when the "acampada" in Plaza Catalunya was stormed by helicopter squads and attacked by policemen armed with rubber bullets and pepper spray. Sirens and screams could be heard all over Ciutat Vella - it felt like the entire city was under attack.

Police claimed they needed to clean the Plaza before tonight's Barca / Man U game, but this only enraged the protesters and prompted many more to join the fight. They barricaded exit roads and came at the police from all sides:

Photograph: Emilio Morenatti/AP

By 2PM, the police had surrendered and made a strategic, speedy exit. More people descended upon the Plaza, with groups setting up on the streets, blocking traffic and any further attempts to disassemble the camp:

This morning, the indignos responded to the attack by scrubbing the Plaza and refortifying the camp:

Photograph: LaVanguardia
The people, determined to maintain peaceful demonstrations until their voice is recognized by the government, are inspiring. Viva la revolucion!

Views from Asturias

Asturias 

(northeastern Spain near Galicia),

is mostly rolling green hills and the occasional happy cow...

But also has beautiful old cities by the beach....

Water flows freely...

 As does the sidra, an alcoholic beverage made from apples which is poured like so:

Or like, so, if you have a porcelain Asturiano man siting on your table:

Our friend, Jano, invited us to his hometown of Gijon, for the weekend:

In Gijon, people of all ages gather in the plaza to share sidra...

 And more sidra...

And nobody goes home until the wee hours of the morn. This is the lively scene at 4AM, when I was ready for sleepy time:

  But the next day, if you're lucky, Jano's Mom will serve you up a hearty lunch. Here we're eating Fabada, a traditional stew of many pig parts, white beans and a kale-like vegetable. !Riquisima!

We had a great time with the Silva family in Asturias.

!Gracias por todo!

Easter in the Country

Last weekend, we were invited to the country, to Terra Alta, a beautiful rural region, two hours south of Barcelona, to spend Easter with friends - Nuria and Pau - and their families. 

Upon arrival in Gandesa, we realized why Nuria goes to her pueblo so often: the lush green flora, dramatic mountain landscape and tranquil country roads make Terra Alta a true Medeterrian Paradise:

We were greeted by her exhuberant father, who gave us a tour of the world though his liquor collection:

And by her mother, who made several traditional meals rivaling only those my grandmother's Texas cooking. Unfortunately, we didn't snap any photos of the squid with white beans or slow-roasted chicken or home-made lasagna with beschamel sauce she made. Cheers to Senora Cid-Puey!

The next day, we headed to Pau's family house in Horta de Sant Joan, a town famous for it's beauty but also for having hosted Pablo Picasso for several months in 1898 when he and a friend lived in a cave and painted like madmen. This could have been the view from their cave:

Before arriving, we stopped off in a nearby medieval town, Valderrobres, to see a traditional Good Friday procession of Nazerenos:

As soon we saw these white cone hats, Nuria and I were ready run for the hills:

Nazarenos pre-date the KKK by a thousand years, but they still have a dominating, oppressive presence, especially, when the scary creatures start banging very loudly, in unison, on large drums:

Fortunately, we had a nice, cozy house to go home to. This is Pau, his mother and his 91-year-old grandfather:

On Easter morning, there were no colored eggs or hunts of any kind, but the Bunny did come:

And we ate him!

During the reminder of the five hour lunch, Ted received more hazing by the Fortuno brothers, Pau's father and uncle, who appreciated that the American knows a thing or two about home-made liquors:

Later, we wandered around the medieval streets of Horta,

And realized why the young Picasso stayed here so long.

Sunday also happened to be the day of Horta's Annual Fast Painting Contest, which may or may not have anything to do with Picasso. Every year, hundreds of painters set up their easels around town and paint from 9am-6pm:

I could have stayed all day, watching the painters work and admiring Horta's beauty. Picasso once said, "Everything I know, I learned in Horta."

This is the view from Pau's kitchen window:

And this is "L'Horta de Saint Joan" by Pablo Picasso.

It was a wonderful weekend and one Easter we'll never forget!

Bones Pasqües! 

I moltes gràcies a l'Cid Puey-família i la famíliaFortuno-Estrada per un cap de setmana bonic.